Sticks (Black Addiction #2) (5 page)

“So, you going to tell me why you had to fly out the door like the club was on fire the minute we’d finished the formalities? If I had to guess, I’d say it had to do with a certain blonde guitar player who looked pretty pissed.”

I’d assumed that I’d be getting twenty questions when I eventually got home. It’s not like they hadn’t seen A: Kenzie call me an asshole and B: Me bail on the band the minute the launch was over. If Rusty and Angie were here, I’d be catching heat from them too, so I should be thankful it was only my best friend who was doing the grilling.

“Yeah, well. You’d be right, my friend.” My head fell back against the couch. “Kenzie and I had shit we needed to discuss. It couldn’t wait.”

“What kind of shit? Is she okay? Does she need help or something?” True to form, Max was concerned about Kenz and the situation. He had always been a smooth bastard, his nice guy routine getting him more than his fair share of pussy. He genuinely cared too, it wasn’t just an act.

“
Okay
is not a word I can use tonight. And as for helping, nothing you can really do.” Or anyone for that matter. Hell, I could barely get my head around it and I’d had hours.

“What the fuck, Joe. What the hell is going on?” Max dug a little deeper, his need to know more from a place of concern than because he wanted to shoot the breeze. “And don’t tell me
nothing
. Obviously there is
something
and it’s serious because you haven’t even made a crack about how good her tits looked tonight.”

“You looked at her tits?” My head swiveled fast to face him. Max didn’t like to double dip and him knowing Kenzie and I had history should have put her in the no-go zone. “Dude, don’t fucking go there.”

“No, I didn’t
look
. But usually that would be the first thing out of your mouth, so I would say my point has been more than illustrated.” He rolled his eyes, the needling used to get me to talk. “What gives?”

“So. Kenzie.” I paused between each word wondering how the hell I was going to say it out loud. “Is pregnant.” Yeah didn’t sound any better hearing it from my mouth rather than letting it roll around in my brain. It still felt like a dream. Clearly the issue on whether or not we’d slept together had been put to rest. Ironically this was not the kind of proof I’d wanted, Max knowing there was no way on earth I’d ever joke about this.

“Holy shit. Are you serious?” Max’s eyes peeled back in disbelief, the same what-the-fuck I’d been wearing for the last few hours.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” The memory of my reaction in the not too distant past. “But it seems like I have super swimmers or something because even though I didn’t finish inside her, we still made a baby.” My fingers worked their way up to the bridge of my nose and gave it a squeeze. The headache that had taken up residence, the least of my problems.

“Please tell me you know you can still get a girl pregnant even if you don’t finish inside her?” The bastard’s voice rose in disbelief. Like the information should have been fucking obvious.

“C’mon, dude. What are the chances? I pulled out, there should have been like a zillion-to-one possibility of it happening.”

And if the chances had been bigger they should be sign-posting that shit. Like instead of these dipshit infomercials trying to sell steam mops and Sham-Wows, a PSA should be circulating. Don’t do drugs, stay in school and oh, even without the happy ending you can still be rocking a baby nine-months later.

“Well, it looks like your number came up, didn’t it.” Max stated the fucking obvious. No, seriously. Surely I had more chance of being struck by lightning.

“Yep.” My head nodded, my eyes clocking him from across the room. “And before you ask, she’s keeping it. We’re going to do this together.”

Or so was the plan. I had no clue of how this was going to work but I’ll be damned if I was walking away. Fuck. That. I was a man and I took care of my business, even if the business wasn’t planned, and if I was honest, scared the fuck out of me.

“How is that going to work?” Max echoed my exact thoughts as he pushed a little further.

If it had been anyone other than him on the other side of this conversation, I’d have probably told them to go fuck themselves. A whole lot of none-of-your-business tossed in for extra measure. But with Max, I knew he had my back, his concern for me warranted in this instance, as I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

“Dude, don’t even start.” My head shook for as much my benefit as it did to illustrate the point. “She seems to have it figured out though so we should be fine. I asked her to marry me but she shot me down.”

“Joey!” His voice echoed off the walls. “A chick is going to have your kid and you’re going on tour in a couple months. Not to mention you threw in a proposal which she probably knew was offered under duress. No wonder she turned you down. Shit isn’t
fine
my friend.”

“Dude, my mind is already in fucking free fall. Please don’t jump on my case as well. I thought I was doing the right thing. I seriously can’t even think right now.”

“Joe, you know I love you like a brother, but this is the big leagues my friend.” There was no humor in his voice as he rose to his feet and got up in my personal space. His eyes so fucking serious I had to wonder whether or not he would take a swing. “You
cannot
fuck this up. That kid needs you to bring your A game, and if you can’t do that then you are going to have to be honest with Kenzie. Need I remind you about the useless oxygen thief that is my brother?”

The reminder wasn’t needed. Phil, the older brother of the guy in front of me, had sown his wild oats and then taken a hike. Didn’t even know for sure whether or not his kid had been born. Just gave his ex-girlfriend a see-ya-later and good luck. Bastard not only turned his back on his responsibility but then twenty-five years after the fact decided he wanted to play daddy. Cue the-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it when the daughter he abandoned ended up being Alison Williams, the girlfriend of our guitarist. There wasn’t enough it’s-a-small-world-after-all to get us over that shock.

“I’m not Phil, and I have no fucking plans on bailing.” My ass lifted off the couch as I met him eye-to-eye. “I’ll do whatever needs doing, and my kid is not going to be tossed aside because I wasn’t ready. I’m
not
that guy.”

Not exactly sure where all of that had come from, but I meant every single word. I wasn’t ready. But that was my problem and I’ll be damned if I let Kenzie do it alone. Or worse, let my kid grow up thinking his or her dad didn’t give a shit. Oh hell no.

“Good.” Max gave me a nod, the answer coming out of my mouth what he wanted to hear. “Go get some sleep, you’re going to need it. Well talk more tomorrow if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks, man.” Not sure sleep was going to happen tonight but getting out of these clothes and horizontal sure seemed like a good idea.

“Night,” Max called out as he followed his own advice and headed to his room.

“Goodnight.”

My feet slowly ambled to my bedroom as my brain went through the scenario for the fifth billionth time. Yeah, sleep wasn’t happening. Not tonight anyway.

Ugh.

I felt like shit.

Not sure if it was my momentous announcement to the father of my unborn child or the late night that subsequently followed that caused the feeling of utter crap I was dealing with today. Either or both could have been to blame as to why I was unable to close my eyes and get to sleep last night.

Oh trust me, I tried. Counting sheep, warm milk, masturbating—all of which did nothing but mildly entertain me during the hours while I lay awake in bed. Actually, that’s a lie. The masturbating wasn’t bad.

So it was official. Joey Shaw, my not-so-bright-friend-with-benefits, and I were going to raise this baby.

Together.

But not together.

Sure the particulars hadn’t been ironed out—at least we had a few months for that—but for the most part we seemed to agree. The baby deserved two loving parents, who for better or for worse, weren’t going to be a couple.

It was for the best.

“Hey, Kenzie, you feeling okay? You don’t look so hot.” Sara sat down beside me, having arrived at my apartment five minutes before. Her green eyes looked me over with concern.

Sara Davis was not only the lead singer of our band but also my best friend. We had started Beauty Queens from Mars when we were both fifteen and bored with pretending to like the shit that was being flipped on the radio.

Neither of us were particularly athletic or popular so we banded together—literally—and celebrated our love for kick-ass female musicians who didn’t give a shit. Our eclectic dress sense had the captain of the football team dub us “The Beauty Queens from Mars.” He had meant it as an insult. I personally reveled in the title. Who wanted to be normal? Certainly not me. And so that’s what we named the band.

We didn’t get serious about the band until after high school though. With both Sara and I accepted into CUNY—yeah, one letter off from being a rather unfortunate acronym—we’d met Abbey and Becca at a MUSE appreciation night.

We graduated and tried to get regular jobs, but the band thing had always been a constant. Now it wasn’t so much of a side project as it was the real deal. The rest was sort of history.

“Sooooooooooooo.” I figured she would find out about it sooner than later, and truth be told could really use someone to talk to. “Remember how Joey and I hooked up?”

It’s not like she could have forgotten in a hurry. I’d been high from the orgasms at the hands of that man for at least a week after. I didn’t even kiss and tell; she had read it all over my face the next day.

“Please!” Sara smirked. “I’m still scarred from watching the two of you make out. It was like a porno. Except you were wearing clothes. How is Mr. Made-you-come-five-hundred-times?” The grin she’d been wearing getting wider.

“He’s good. I guess.” Well, at least he seemed
good
. I hadn’t really asked, probably should have done that. Oh, well. A bit late now. “I saw him again last night.”

“So that explains why you look tired. Nice.” She gave me a knowing smile. Pity on this she was so waaaaaaayyy off. “I hope he didn’t disappoint you. The sequels rarely live up to the original.”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out for the second time in as many days.

In my head I’d rehearsed it better, easing into the conversation. Apparently my mouth didn’t get the memo as the smooth delivery was tossed aside for the stark reality. Meh, it was probably better that way. No one liked dragging out crap longer than it needed to be.

“It’s Joey’s. We’re having a baby.” My mouth spewed words that barely constituted a sentence. “Surprise!”

“Whoa. Hold the fucking phone. You’re pregnant? To Joey? What?” Sara’s kohl-rimmed eyes strained to maximum capacity. “Are you sure?”

I’m not sure how many times that question had been asked in the last twenty-four hours. By myself first, then Joey and now Sara. The answer always the same.

“Yes.” My head nodded as I continued with my rundown of the facts. “Period MIA, fatigue, morning sickness—all pointing to the same conclusion. There were also the multiple pregnancy tests I took. Every brand CVS carried. Just to be
sure
.”

“I’m assuming you’re—”

“Yes, I’m following through with the pregnancy.”

It was a valid question, considering I was a twenty-five-year old guitarist in a rock band, my only assets being my guitars and a used Chevy Malibu. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for mommy material. Nor had I ever displayed any maternal tendencies, so the fact I was hardcore about this shocked the hell out of me just as much as everyone else.

“Even if I have to do it alone,” I continued, no point stopping now. “But Joey says he’s going to help.” Unless he’d changed his mind since the last time we’d spoke. Either way, mine wouldn’t be changing.

“So, are you two going to . . . date or something?” The look on her face was skeptical like she wasn’t going to be surprised by me saying no. She had known Joey as long as I had. His past history not the kind you look for when thinking long term.

“He asked me to marry him.”

I’ll admit I threw it out there more for shock value. More because it had almost knocked me right off my feet and I felt I should share the love. It was a lot funnier now; more so because I knew the proposal hadn’t been legitimate.

Sort of like the child we were bringing into the world.

Okay. I needed to stop.

“The fuck?” Sara gave me the same holy-shit-he-can’t-be-serious that I had experienced.

“He didn’t mean it.” My hand waved off her concern, putting it and the context into perspective. “And no we aren’t dating. It’s
Joey
. The man wouldn’t know commitment if it bit him on the ass. And there is also the little fact that while we like each other just fine, I don’t actually love him. So, no. No relationship.”

“Sounds smart,” Sara agreed, her mouth barely taking a breath before she continued. “So you’re going to be a mom. Well, okay then. You are totally going to be kickass. Can you imagine how cool your kid is going to be? And I can help you with the baby. Kids love me. My nieces and nephews think I’m the best aunt ever.” She folded her arms across her chest, a satisfied grin playing on her lips.

And that right there was why she was my best friend. While another friend might have tried to tell me what a bad idea it was or how hard it was going to be, she did neither. She accepted my decision with a firm resolution to be by my side while I did it. Of course she’d had lots of practice. Most of the questionable situations we found ourselves in over the years had been my brainchildren. Still, her vote of confidence was reassuring even if I didn’t believe everything she said.

“My folks are probably going to freak the fuck out. What do you think is an acceptable amount of time I can string this out?” My head flopped against the back of my sofa. The prospect of telling my parents didn’t immediately fill me with joy. I’m sure they wouldn’t have the same optimistic outlook as Sara, possibly some disappointment thrown in for good measure. Just because I lived my life with a mostly screw-you attitude, I still cared what
they
thought.

“When you can no longer wear regular pants,” Sara said with all seriousness. “You can probably work the food-baby excuse for a bit and wear a baggy shirt, but the minute you need an elastic waistband, the jig is up.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” While the timeline for my expanding waistline wasn’t really certain, I expected it would get to the point that not even creative accessory placement would disguise it. That shit barely worked on television and they had a whole battalion of people to help them. “At least I don’t have to do it this week, or the next. I have plenty of time.”

“Kenz, they might be a little stunned, but they aren’t going to disown you. You know that.”

Sara was right. When it came to parents, I lucked out.

It might have been because I was the youngest of three—my older brother and sister paving the way, something they never let me forget—
or
it might have been that my parents realized I wasn’t made for normalcy.

The band, the tattoos, the less than traditional job choice—they accepted it all. No under-breath comments about changing my lifestyle, no passive aggressive suggestions on how much prouder they’d be if I would just get a
real
job. Nothing. Just encouragement and love, even when my ideas weren’t always the smartest. So they might not be thrilled about me being knocked up, but they would support my decision.

Just as they had always done.

Man, I had a lot to live up to if I was going to be half as good a parent as mine were.

“Yeah, I know. Still, let’s leave the freak out for at least a week or two. By then I’ll have been to the doctor and will have all the facts.”

Not sure exactly what
facts
I needed to have. Considering I could pinpoint the date of conception, and had multiple confirmations via tests and other means, the medical degree giving me the
yes
seemed unnecessary. Perhaps having Joey’s progeny inside me was making me lose brain cells; I could have sworn I was smarter than I had been sounding lately.

“Whatever, babes. It’s your deal.” Sara gave me a tight hug. “You want to get breakfast? I’d totally be cashing in on the eating-for-two card.” Her wicked smile hinted she was more than happy to distract me with the promise of food. Total team player too because the distraction was exactly what I needed. Whether or not breakfast was a good idea was still yet to be decided.

“Yes. Breakfast. Let’s go do that.” I nodded between each word. My stomach hopefully on the same page as my brain and would not evacuate any food consumed a few hours later. Let’s be honest, it could go either way.

***

“Joey.” I answered the phone for the eleventh million time this weekend. All right, maybe I was exaggerating, but it had been a lot and we still had another twelve hours before we went to the doctor.

“Kenzie, so I was thinking.” He blew out a long breath before continuing. “Are they going to need me to jack off there or am I cool to bring a sample from home? I’m good with either, but I’d just like to be prepared. Oh, and how am I supposed to store it? Tupperware container? I think I have an old
Miracle Whip
jar. Ha, actually that’s kind of funny.” His laugh bubbled from his throat.

“What the hell?” I pulled the phone away from my ear like it would suddenly spell out why I was having this conversation. “You want to help me work out why anyone would need you to jerk off, period?”

The phone calls I’d been fielding all weekend from him had been an involved game of twenty questions. At first they were sort of endearing, and I was glad he’d taken an interest, but as the hours wore on the questions got more and more bizarre. Joey would go online, read something and then call me to confirm. Like I was suddenly the oracle on all things pregnancy. WebMd had a lot to answer for.

“Well you said you want to do a paternity test.” He answered like it should have been my first clue. “I already told you it wasn’t necessary, but I’m on board with doing it if it makes everything easier. Do they have porn there or are we supposed to bring our own? Also, no pressure but if you want to help me out in the booth that is cool too. You can watch or you jerk me off, whatever level of participation you want is fine with me.”

“Please tell me you’re joking?” I shook my head wondering if this was an elaborate plan to push my buttons. Or some weird dare he had running with Max to see at what point I’d lose my shit. Surely, he had to know that paternity wasn’t determined in
that
way.

“I never joke about jerking off. As I said, you tell me what you want and I am more than happy to comply. Do you need me to repeat the questions? Apparently pregnant women forget shit a lot, it’s nothing to be ashamed of or anything. I forget shit all the time.”

At that moment I was glad for the distance. Glad it had been only his voice that was currently in my personal space and not his body, because if he had been here there was only so much restraint I could exert. And no jury in their right mind would punish me for killing him. I mean, seriously, he was obviously begging to die.

“Joey.” His name barely escaped my clenched jaw. “I’m going to try and address one question at a time using small words so I’m sure you understand.” My hand gripped the phone tighter. “You do not need to jerk off for a paternity test. They take a swab for your DNA from your
mouth
. The only time I can think of where you would actually
need
to jerk off is if you were donating sperm or for IVF, considering I’m already pregnant your donation has already been
banked
.” I fought the urge to follow with no further withdrawals would be taken on my part.