Rockstar Daddy

Chapter One Carla Brushing the toast crumbs from the front of my cheesy old-timey waitress outfit, I sighed and went to refill the pot of coffee at the end of the counter. I glanced at the clock- only two more hours, and then I could go home. This shift felt as if it had stretched out forever, and I would be glad when it was finally done. As I stepped round the table to replace the pot of coffee, Jules, one of the regulars, shifted his chair up to trap me between the counter and his slimy self. "Hey, Carla, you know you should smile more," he offered his unsolicited advice, and I flashed him a brief, tight-lipped grin in an attempt to get him to back off, but he was undeterred. "Pretty girl like you, it's a shame to see you so down all the time," he reached out a hand to slip around my waist, but I stepped away deftly. I was well used to avoiding sleazy come-ons at work, but tonight I was so not in the mood for his s**t. "Maybe if you tipped more," I smiled sweetly at him. That shut him up. I never got more than a handful of loose coins from these old guys, and I seriously felt like I deserved more for not jamming my heel into their foot every time they went to grab my ass. He sank back into his seat, and I sat the pot of coffee back of the desk. Wiping my hands on my apron, I called over to Dina, the other waitress on duty that evening. "Hey, do you mind if I take a quick break?" "Sure," she nodded, gesturing absently towards the door. "No more than five, though, okay?" "Right." Grabbing my jacket, I hurried for the door and felt a wave of calm wash over me as the cool evening air hit my face. Tonight was one of those nights where everything seemed to be stacked against me, and even a couple of minutes to myself were a reprieve I would gratefully take. I slipped my hand into my pocket, and pulled out my phone- whenever I was out working late, I compulsively checked my cell to make sure that the sitter hadn't called with some disaster or other. I hated leaving Tara for all these long nights, but it was the only way I could actually support the two of us- she'd understand when she was older, I just hoped she didn't resent me for it. There was nothing from the sitter, but there was another message waiting for me- from Chelsea. s**t. I had done a damn good job avoiding all her messages since she finished up college in California, but she was constantly peppering me with texts and calls, trying to organise a get-together. I guess it was hard for her to understand the responsibilities I had as a single mother, working all the hours I could get my hands on. I didn't have time for her the way I used to and yeah, that made me feel guilty sometimes, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I tapped on the message, and as soon as the words popped on to my screen, I felt my stomach lurch. "I know it's been forever, but I'm going to be in town this weekend and I was hoping we could meet up. Oh, yeah, and it's FOR MY WEDDING!" The rest of the message was taken up with a string of emojis-wedding dresses, champagne glasses, shiny rings. What? How in the hell could Chelsea be getting married? She was my age- Christ, we were only twenty-one. She had only finished up her public relations degree a few months earlier. I hadn't heard anything about a boyfriend, let alone an engagement, let alone a wedding happening in literally six days time. That was the only reason I could think of that she'd come back to our hometown, anyway. The thought of seeing her- all blissed-out happy and about to start her life with someone else, while I was stuck at home with Tara and my painting for company- made me cringe a little inside. It wasn't that I was ashamed of the life I'd chosen for myself- I wouldn't give it up for anything, even when it sucked as hard as it did that night- but I knew Chelsea wouldn't be able to hide her disappointment in me for not doing something more with my life. I went back into the café, and the rest of my shift flew by- I guess the one good thing about having a bombshell like that dropped on your lap is that it stops you dwelling on the minutiae of your own life for a little bit. I walked the few blocks back to my apartment, even though it was late, suddenly craving a cigarette as my mind tried to process what I'd just heard. I arrived outside my building after only a few minutes, and it took me a second to realize that I was even home. I fumbled my keys out of my pocket and into the door, and hurried upstairs, glancing at the time on my phone- s**t, I was back a little later than I said I would be to the sitter, that was a pain. I opened the door, and a tiny figure came barrelling towards me out of the kitchen, crashing into me at top speed. "Mommy!" "Hey, baby," I ruffled her hair, and leant down to give her a hug. The sitter- one of the upstairs neighbours, a high school student who was only a few years younger than me- heaved herself out of the sofa as if it pained her to do so. "I couldn't get her in bed before you got back," she explained exhaustedly, and I could see that Tara had been at full pelt that evening. "That's okay," I shook my head, and reached into my pocket for the wad of notes to pay her. "What do I owe you?" As soon as I had got her out the door, I flopped down on to the sofa myself and pulled my baby girl on to my lap. She was only three, but it felt like she'd been part of my life forever. I'd never thought that I'd be much one for having kids, but when I got pregnant- two weeks after the end of high school, drunk, at Chelsea's graduation party, and dumb enough not to use a condom-I became fiercely determined to give this kid a good life, to be as good a mom as I could be. Everyone said I was crazy, and I probably was, but I was stubborn, too, not the type to just roll over and let everyone else tell me how I should live my life. We moved out into our own little place just before I turned nineteen, and the two of us had enjoyed our (slightly cramped) existence since then, even if I did have to spend most of my time out at work. "So, what have you been up to while I was out?" I asked, and Tara leapt off my lap and towards her bedroom. She came back with a bunch of craft paper, still glistening with wet paint. "We made pictures!" She exclaimed, shoving the papers into my hand. "Oh, wow!" I commented, trying not to get any of the paint on my work clothes. I sat for a minute or two, admiring her work- I guess she had spent so long watching me doing my painting that it was natural she wanted to get into doing it herself. "These are awesome, Tara!" "Can I do one more drawing before bed? Please?" Tara asked excitedly, looking at me with her big, blue eyes. I couldn't say no to that face. "Sure you can, babe, but just one, and then we'll brush our teeth and go to bed, okay?" I c****d an eyebrow at her. "Right!" She darted back off to her room and grabbed her colouring stuff, bringing it through so she could sit at my feet. I watched her fondly for a second, and then remembered the text that I'd got earlier that evening. I still couldn't get over it- Chelsea was getting freaking married. I knew she'd always been the relationship type, but I at least thought she would have held out a little longer before committing the rest of her life to someone. Ever since I'd met her in Freshman year, she'd been a heady romantic, and I wondered if that had anything to do with her fast-tracked proposal and marriage deal. God, I still remember getting her through her first break-up, when the two of us were in Junior year- she was so desperately in love with at dude, and she sincerely believed- like we all do, I guess- that she had lucked out and found the love of her life in high school. Alas, it was not to be for them, and he dumped her for one of the theatre-nerd chicks. I felt a sudden wash of nostalgia, and turned to look at my bookcase- I was certain, if I remembered correctly, that I had my yearbook sitting out there somewhere. I stood up, and pawed through the titles on the shelf- yeah, there it was, blue-bound leather, looking a little battered three years later. I pulled it off the shelf and sat back down, flicking through the thick pages as Tara scribbled away on her paper below me. There we all were- God, it felt like yesterday, and for everyone else I guess it was. I had savoured every minute with Tara, and it felt like the time had stretched out longer than three years. We all looked so young in our prom dresses and our class photos- these were people who regularly popped up on my f*******: feed, clutching diplomas and moving in with partners and posting pouty selfies, and it was hard to reconcile those images with the ones I was looking at now. Absentmindedly grabbing the remote control, I flicked on the TV, just for a bit of noise in the background- and found a familiar song blasting from the speakers, some indie rock hit that I hadn't been able to get away from in weeks. I frowned, still staring down at the pages in front of me, as I groped about to change the channel. I flipped the page over, and glanced up at the TV for a moment- and found myself totally and completely frozen. It was a face I hadn't seen in-well, in three years. A face I had committed myself to never seeing again. It was Jason Hendrix, Chelsea's big brother, the only high school crush that had lasted those full four years and beyond. And for some reason, he was on my TV. I stared for a minute longer, my mouth hanging open slightly- there was no way this could actually be happening, could it? Boys I wanted in high school didn't turn up strumming guitars on indie music channels. I climbed off the sofa and knelt on the floor, determined to get close enough to see if it was actually him. The last time I had seen in him was when he'd given me a hug and wished me the best at my graduation- God, that was before I was pregnant, before…everything. He was still as depressingly hot as ever, and I felt a small ache in my chest- he looked just the same as he had back then, when he was my age and just my best friend's hot older brother. Tara was still scribbling away on the bit of paper in front of her, but I had practically pressed my nose to the screen, trying to sear every frame of him into my memory. Well, at least someone from our small town had broken big in the end. Chapter Two Jason Pulling back the covers, I ran my fingers through my hair and closed one eye. f**k, was it always this…bright in the mornings? I swung my legs out of bed and let out a small sigh-my head was throbbing with a hangover, and my mouth tasted like inside of one of my old guitar cases. I felt gross, and it wasn't the first morning I'd woken up feeling like that. I glanced over, almost nervously, at the woman who had been sleeping next to me in bed. She was pale and slim, with a kind of goth-y edge- dyed blue hair, black smudges under her eyes. I mean, yeah, she was hot, and she'd seemed all kind of other things the night before- smart, funny, cool, into our music. But it was all too easy now. I had always dreamt of rock stardom, and all the perks that came with it- I'd just never considered that those perks might one day get seriously old. I was exhausted- genuinely exhausted. Not just from the touring, but from finding a line of women outside my dressing room every night, ready to drink and party and f**k with me all night long. I had accidentally fallen in to this habit of being a player- the novelty of it at first, I guess, but now I had a reputation to live up to and I was finding the whole thing kind of dull. I peeled myself off the mattress and stretched, trying not to wake the woman next to me. I didn't want to do a f**k-and-chuck, but then, it's probably what she expected and I didn't exactly have the energy to do the whole morning-after thing with a raging hangover. I stared vacantly out the window for a few moments, trying to remember what was nagging at the back of my mind. What was it that I had to do today? s**t, yes, packing for Chelsea's wedding- I still couldn't believe that I had to head all the way back to my shitty little hometown, especially considering Chelsea's extortianely rich fiancé was paying for the wedding, but hey, that was what she wanted, and she was my little sister. It felt kind of terrifying knowing that she was going to be getting married before me, but she was always much more the family type than I ever was. I looked back over at the woman, her short blue hair splayed out across the pillow. Clearly. Shoving some stuff into a bag, I tried to make a mental list of everything I'd need. Suit…toothbrush…condoms…I always took protection everywhere, especially after I heard about what happened to- There was a knock of the door of my hotel and I jumped to answer it, keen not to wake the woman in bed. I opened it, and found Freddy, my bassist, standing out in the hall. "Hey, dude, you coming for breakfast?" He asked, yawning and working his fingers through his mess of blonde hair. "Um, no, actually, I'm heading home," I nodded in the direction of the suitcase sitting on the floor, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "What?" He narrowed his eyes. "The tour's done, and my sister's wedding-" "Oh, s**t, yeah, I remember, sorry," he shook his head. "Kind of hazy from last night, you know." "Yeah," I nodded grimly. "I know." "I guess I'll catch you when you're back, then?" He c****d his head, leaning one arm up against the doorframe. "Yeah, I'll be in touch. Guess we're back to the studio when I'm done?" "Guess so," he shrugged, and slapped me on the shoulder. "Have a good time, yeah?" "You too," I mumbled, watching as he wandered back down the hall. I wouldn't miss them- it wasn't that I didn't love the guys I made music with, just that all that time, full-on, never-ending, while we were on tour would put you at the bad end of anyone's nerves. I closed the door and padded back into the room, grabbing a shirt to throw on over the pair of jeans I'd slept in. Reaching for the condoms on autopilot, my mind flashed back to my previously unfinished thought. It was the reason I was so anal about condoms (if you'll excuse the terrible pun). A few years ago, a girl- well, the girl- had gotten pregnant from a protection-free one-night-stand, and the thought of that scared the living s**t out of me. I was perhaps the only musician I knew who insisted on condoms every time, but hey, it seemed better than having some kid I knew nothing about. I felt my heart drop a little in my chest as I remembered her. Carla. Even saying her name in my head was enough to cause a painful ache, even though it had been-what, three years since I'd seen her last? Yeah, at Chelsea's graduation- I'd tried to keep my distance, but she'd come and found me and demanded a good luck hug. She was just getting ready to study art at college- I remember because it was how we first met, both of us being the kind of nerdy creative kids who would hang around for hours after school trying to perfect our art. I'd been a few years above her, but I always thought she was cute, and when Chelsea started bringing her home from school every other night or so, I kind of- f**k, well, I know it's stupid to deny it. I had a giant f*****g crush on her, but I knew it would be crazy-stupid to actually pursue anything with her. She was Chelsea's best friend, after all, and nothing ends well when the big brother dates the best friend. Not that I didn't try, of course. It was after she left- I didn't know she was pregnant, hell, I don't think any of us did, but she'd dropped her college place and had decided to stay in our hometown. I was off studying music in California, and I did my best to keep in touch, dropping her texts and messages when I could, keeping it casual. But she had started cutting ties with everyone by then, even Chelsea, and she eventually told me that she couldn't stay in contact with me because it felt like she was going behind Chelsea's back. I respected that, and a couple months later I heard through the grapevine that she'd had a little girl. Never found out who the father was. The music was just starting to go somewhere at that point, so I didn't give it much more thought beyond that, but every now and then she'd pop into my head, or a picture of her and her daughter- but with those bright blues eyes and mess of short brown hair- would pop up while Chelsea was scrolling through social media, and I'd feel a stab of…something. I had often thought about getting in touch with her, but until she told me it was okay, I had sworn I wouldn't do anything. But now that I was heading back to my hometown, I couldn't help but wonder if things would be different. She was grown-up, I was grown-up- a lot had happened. And surely Chelsea would be inviting her. If she was there…maybe I could just try. Exchange a few words, get her a drink, reminisce about old times. I had always wondered if she'd ever felt the same way about me, and I had a feeling that this wedding would give me closure one way or another. Finishing my packing, I slung my bag over my shoulder, I quickly scribbled out the number of a local taxi company on a scrap of paper and left it next to the bed. I felt kind of shitty just leaving the girl there, but I'd miss my flight if I didn't get a move on. And I had plenty to look forward to once I got there. Chapter Three Carla I smoothed down the front of my dress and looked in the mirror, trying to calm myself down with deep, long breaths, "I think you look beautiful, mommy!" Tara exclaimed, dancing round me in her fairy wings and plastic tiara. I grinned- I always had someone on my side, at least. "Thank you, baby, so do you," I grabbed her and twirled her round, and for a moment forgot about the giant nightmare I was about to be dropped into. The buzz on the door reminded me that the sitter was booked for right this instant, so I would have to suck it up and go out the door or go to pieces and cancel within the next ten seconds. Quickly twirling my short hair into a clip, I ran to answer the door. "Kiera, thanks for coming on such short notice," I beamed, and Kiera grinned back. "Where's my favourite girl?" She cooed, and Tara hurried out of the bedroom to greet her. "I'll only be a couple of hours, I promise," I mumbled, feeling a stab of resentment that I couldn't spend one of my rare afternoons off with my baby girl. "See you later, baby!" "Bye, mommy!" She called back, and I closed the door, catching sight of myself in the window opposite our apartment. I looked pretty okay, I supposed- this was my job-interview outfit, a sleek burgundy dress with closed-toe black patent heels and a pretty necklace one of my exes had given me. I wanted to make a good impression-there was part of me that was mortified at the thought of Chelsea and her fiancé finding out every detail about my life. They knew I was a mom, but as far as they knew I was a high-flying businesswoman who juggled her daughter and her professional life effortlessly, not a single mom who worked two jobs just to make end's meet. Chelsea had invited me out to lunch as soon as she'd arrived back in town and I figured that if I planned to go to her wedding, I should at least check out what she and her fiancé were actually like. I hadn't seen her since the graduation, and as I hurried down the stairs, I felt another stab of anxiety. Would she still be the Chelsea I remembered? Would she look down on me? For all Chelsea's naiveté, she was sweet and fiercely kind, but that had been years ago. I had no idea who she was now, and, judging by her carefully curate i********: feed, she was a lot more worldly than the girl I had hugged a tearful goodbye to a few months after graduation. Chelsea and her fiancé- what was his name again? Blaine? Robert?- had offered to send round a taxi to pick me up, an offer I'd gladly accepted. It saved me getting the bus to our fancy lunch together. When I got downstairs, it was waiting outside, and I slipped in to the backseat, sinking into the soft leather. I gave the driver the address, and we took off- I knew I was going to be cutting it pretty fine, but it had taken me an age to convince Corinne to give up her Sunday afternoon to babysit Tara again, so I was running late. Still, I would just about make it on time if there was no traffic- maybe I could pass it off as cutting it fashionably fine? I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before our arranged meeting, thanked the driver, and hopped out. It was a nice place- I'd been on a couple of first dates there, back when I'd actually still been dating-and I was planning to take advantage of the good food on someone else's dime. I'd offered to pay my own way, but Chelsea had laughed me off over the phone, hand-waving the sentiment away. The taxi, the food- maybe I was getting the wrong impression from all of this, but it felt like either Chelsea or her husband were doing pretty well for themselves. I felt a stab of jealousy that I quickly brushed off-nothing less attractive than being desperate- and pulled myself up to my full height. If nothing else, I at least wanted to look good when I walked in. I walked up to the maitre'd, and offered him my best smile. "I'm meeting the Hendrix party here at-" Before I had a chance to get the full sentence out, I heard a shriek from the other side of the room. "Carla!" I turned, and saw Chelsea hurrying over to me- she was wearing a gorgeous fifties-style black cocktail dress, and her long, brown hair had been cropped up into a highlighted bob. She threw her arms around me, and the scent of expensive perfume filled my nostrils- sweet, a little musky. Pulling away from me, she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me in the direction of their table, where the man who I assumed was her fiancé was waiting. "Robert, this is Carla, Carla, this is my fiancé, Robert," Chelsea motioned between the two of us as she made her introductions, and Robert stood up and extended his hand towards me. "It's lovely to meet you, Chelsea's told me so much about you," he nodded, and I shook his hand. He was younger than I expected- I don't know why, but I had pictured someone a lot older, someone who could bankroll Chelsea's lifestyle. But then, she'd got a good degree- who's to say she wasn't bankrolling his? "Great to meet you too," I nodded, and sat down, picking up a menu. "So, is this your first time visiting Arbour Falls?" "Indeed it is," he glanced out the window and on to the street. "I just love all this small-town Americana stuff- it's so Robert Hendrix, you know?" I raised an eyebrow. More pretentious than I had expected. "I mean, I guess you're right," I laughed awkwardly, trying to brush away the weirdness of what he'd just said." So, what is it you do, Robert?" "I run the public relations campaign for the Los Angeles City Theatre," he replied, and it sounded as if he'd repeated those words to himself plenty of times across the years. "Wow, that's cool," I nodded, and glanced over at Chelsea, who was staring at him adoringly. "And how did you meet?" "Chelsea came along to one of our opera performances last year," he grinned indulgently at her. "She was studying the same thing I had and…well, it just seemed like a perfect fit." "Right," I looked back down at the menu, and found myself praying that they didn't ask anything about my life. They had it so good- so very, very good- and I was panicking now that they would figure out the extent of my own success if I didn't find some way to distract them. I racked my brains-I'd asked all the obvious questions, and now- "Oh, before I forget!" Chelsea dipped a hand into the purse next to her, all soft leather and clean coloured piping. She pulled out an envelope, and handed it over to me. Confused, I took it from her and quickly ripped it open. "Oh, an invitation!" I exclaimed, trying to sound excited as I turned over the heavy, gilded paper in my hands. "Wow, you know, I'd love to come, but-" "Oh, come on," Chelsea chastised me, "Even if it's only for a couple of hours. I'll happily pay for a sitter if you need someone to look after…" She trailed off, and I realized that she had forgotten my daughter's name. "Tara," I snapped, a little colder than I had intended. "Yes, sorry, sorry," she shook her head, ever the gracious host. "You're welcome to come along to the rehearsal dinner, too. That's on Friday night, before the wedding." "Um…" I knew I wasn't working Friday, and I could easily get a sitter in if I wanted to go. But there was a panic fluttering in my chest at the thought, and I knew exactly what it was about- Jason. Ever since I'd seen him on TV, I couldn't shake the memories we'd made together when I was in high school. All of it suddenly seemed so recent, so potent, and I wasn't sure I could handle meeting him as a big rock star. What if he'd changed? I'd done some Google research, and his reputation wasn't exactly spotless. If I saw him…how would I react? What would I do? I couldn't risk the feelings that going to this wedding-or the rehearsal- might bring up. I couldn't let Jason see the kind of life I was living. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to feel sorry for me, even though I felt like a failure in comparison to the entire Hendrix clan by now. "Can I get back to you on that?" I plastered a smile on my face. "I'll need to check with my sitter and stuff first." Chelsea crinkled her brow, and a V appeared between her eyes. I'd forgotten about that- that little quirk she'd had since she was a teenager, and I remember the boys teasing her about it when we were in freshman year. "Of course," she nodded, and waved over a waiter. "Now, what would you like to drink?"