"C'mon, don't be like that. You don't like what you see, I'll make sure you still get to the airport with plenty of time to make your flight."
"How do you know about that?" I leaned an elbow on the window ledge, trying to keep my cool. Not really succeeding. Outside the city lights sped by.
"Same way I was waiting for you to make your escape," he said. "Sam."
"Ah." Trust the superspy security guy to be a step ahead of me. Jerk.
"Anyway, they figured I'd have a better chance at sweet talking you into coming along."
"Did they now?" I showed him my teeth. It could have been misconstrued as a smile, but as previously noted, Vaughan was no dummy.
"Liz, please. If I didn't think it'd be worth your while, no fucking chance I'd have let them talk me into this. I got no desire to have you hate me."
I sighed determinedly. "Look," I said, putting on my best laying-down-the-law voice, "all I want right now is to get all of this behind me as fast as I possibly can. I'm sick of being here. I'm sick of the band, and rock 'n' roll, and most of all I'm sick of smiling through it all. I do think you're sweet, and kudos to you for trying whatever you're trying. But I am officially over it. I am so past over it."
"Huh," he said, sitting back in his seat and smiling out the window at the Manhattan lights. "I guess I'm the opposite, aren't I? It's all over for you and you can't wait to get away. It's all over for me too, and I just keep trying to squeeze out another few seconds from my fifteen minutes of fame. Your strategy does sound better. Figures, what with your psychiatry degree and all."
"Psychology," I corrected absently. I'd forgotten I wasn't the only one who was dealing with a breakup of sorts. "I heard you guys were finishing, but it's hardly all over for you, is it? I've seen you up onstage. You've got it going on just fine."
Vaughan smiled sadly. "You've never really seen the rock 'n' roll life, have you?" he asked. "You just got vaulted into the penthouse without getting a taste of the industry. For every Stage Dive there's a hundred Down Fourths. A thousand. We had one or two hits. We backed up a major band. If we'd held on to that and managed to score a major label contract, who knows? Maybe it all would have happened. Rock superstars, platinum albums, and the cover of Rolling Stone. But we couldn't keep it together. Too many egos and pissy little arguments, to the point we're barely fucking talking to each other. Luke's off to bigger and better things, sure. But for the rest of us it's back to square one. At the end of the day, the last ten years don't mean shit. I'm tired, Liz. Tired of sleeping in shitty hotels and always traveling and playing shows, trying to make enough to pay for just a little more studio time. I want to go home and see my family, wake up and actually know what town I'm in. I want to see if there's a better way to do this that doesn't cost me my sanity and fuck with my liver every night of the week."
"You're right, I never thought of any of it like that."
He scrubbed at his face with his hands, gave me that same sad smile again. "I love the music. Always have, always will. But maybe the constant push to get big enough to play stadiums isn't for me."
"Maybe not."
"Maybe I'll find a girl like you who isn't already pregnant and is all over finding me bare-ass naked. A girl who won't even think about asking me to cover up."
I laughed, covering my face with my hands. "I really hope you find her, Vaughan. You're a great guy. You deserve the best."
"Thanks. Anyway, enough of my shit. Come with me to the concert," he said, his voice quiet. "Maybe it can be the last crazy thing you do with a rock star. Maybe it can be the last crazy thing I do as a rock star." He smiled, but his eyes looked sad.
Resigned.
Slowly, also resigned, I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. "I better not miss that flight, Vaughan."
"You come along with me and don't like what you see or hear ... the minute you say so, I'll get you out of there and it's a Stage Dive limo straight to the airport. Deal?"
"You know, you should get out of rock 'n' roll and do psychology," I grumbled. "Deal."
*
Backstage hadn't changed any. Lots of busy people and equipment on the go.
With no fuss we made our way through security, one of Sam's men appearing at my back. No one questioned us further once he was there. Vaughan took control of my luggage--more in case I tried to make a run for it than to be helpful, I think. I'd never imagined being in this position again--access to all areas, escorted down hallways and up stairs to the side of the stage. I wasn't a girlfriend anymore. I wasn't anything.
So what the hell was this all about?
The band were playing "Last Back," a hit off the previous album. Anne, Ev, and Lena were over on the other side of the stage, weirdly enough. I was pretty much on my own, apart from some sound guys and Pam, the tour photographer. She was a nice woman, married to Tyler, one of the favored sound engineers. They'd both been with the band for ages.
When Anne saw me, she cocked her head curiously, giving me a wave.
I waved back but stayed put.
The song came to an earsplitting crescendo, finishing with a staccato frenzy of belted chords. At point-blank range the noise shuddered up through my ankles and quivered my spine. The fans went wild.
"Ladies and gentlemen," purred Jimmy, in full leading-man mode, standing front and center on the stage. Clad in black pants with a black button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled back to reveal some of his ink. "Got something special for you tonight."
Lots of screaming from out in the stadium. I covered my ears, but too late. Holy hell. Inside my belly, the squirmy sensation came again.
Huh.
"Benny-boy, our bass player here, has a little something he'd like to say."
And I'd been trying so hard not to look at him. My face felt brittle, my eyes hot and hard. He handed over his favorite bass, the Gibson Thunderbird, to a roadie. His gaze strayed over to me as he walked up to the microphone. He knew I was there. Even in the darkness outside the footlights, he saw me.
Jimmy gave his shoulder a squeeze and then stepped back. Ben moved a hand up to cradle the microphone, but his eyes stayed on mine, his face sideways to the crowd. I shouldn't have come. Sweat poured out of my palms, from within my clenched fists. Far more than the night air could account for.
It would be okay. This was nothing special, surely. Just some weird variation on a rock star good-bye. These guys, they always did things big. Maybe there'd be a sorry-it-allwent-to-shit song just for me. How sweet.
Ben wore the typical black boots, blue jeans, and a faded gray T-shirt with some band name on it. His usual uniform. Man, if only he'd stop staring at me. It was like he held me immobile. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
"Hey," he said, his voice filling the night air, magnified however many thousand times. Once again the crowd went wild. Some started chanting his name, screaming out I love yous and the like. Who the hell could ever compete with this? The mass adulation. The worship of a crowd of this magnitude. I'd never stood a chance.
"Know there's been a lot of shit in the papers lately, gossip about my becoming a father." The long dark hair on top of his head had escaped whatever styling product they'd used. It fell around his face, strands catching on his beard. "I wanted to set things straight tonight."
More mania from the crowd. General confusion from me. This all could have been done without my presence. Easily. Hell, he could have held a press conference tomorrow, when I'd be on the other side of the country, licking my wounds and rebuilding my life. Why this? My emotions had been through the mill enough already.
I turned to leave but Vaughan caught my arm, halting me.
"Give it one more minute," he said.
"Oh for fuck's sake." I turned, not so barely holding in my temper. Not even sorry I'd sworn. Fucking Ben fucking Nicholson. Well he could just fuck right off, couldn't he? Yes he fucking could. Not a single fucking fire truck needed to be involved in the entire process.
I looked back to find him starin
g straight back at me, dark eyes searing into me, despite the distance. One fucking minute, that's all he had. And I'm pretty damn certain by the set of my lips he knew it too.
"I love you, Lizzy," he said.
Everything stopped. It was like the world held its breath. I know I did, stunned.
"I was a fucking idiot not to say it to you sooner." His hand tightened on the microphone, the lines of tension embedded deep in his face. "Shit was just changing so fast and I ... I got scared."
Talk about making a public statement. Holy hell. The beat of silence dissolved, and the screaming and cat-whistling of the crowd came close to drowning out his words. As for me, I could barely believe my ears.
"You can have my time, and you can have my attention," he said, words slow and deliberate. "Sweetheart, you can have whatever the fuck you want, I promise. Whatever you need. No more holding back, no more fear. And if you still feel you have to get on that plane tonight, then we're doing it together."
I sucked in a deep breath, what with my body urgently needing it and all. White dots receded and I saw him clearly once again, standing before me, offering everything. I swayed slightly, the squirming sensation inside stronger this time, more definite. Vaughan and the security guy each grabbed an arm, keeping me upright.
Ben bolted across the stage toward me, grabbing me carefully around the waist and shifting me onto the stage, beneath the heat of the bright lights. I could hear the crowd screaming, but they sounded distant, otherworldly.
"What's wrong?" asked Ben, eyes panicked.
"She's moving," I said, one hand on his shoulder and the other on my belly. "She's moving, Ben. I felt her move. Our baby."
He buried his face in my hair, keeping me close, taking my weight.
"I didn't know what it was before, but it's her. Isn't that amazing?"
"Yeah, that's wild."
"Your voice was so loud, she must have heard it and recognized it." I smiled at him in amazement.
He swept me off my feet, holding me high and striding toward the center of the stage. "That's great, Liz. It really is. But, sweetheart, I need to know if you heard me too."
Slowly, I nodded, putting my palm to his face, against the bristle of his beard. "I heard you."
"What do you say?"
I took a moment, thinking it through. Big, life-changing decisions deserve at least a second of contemplation. "We don't have to get on that plane."
"Okay," he exhaled hard, smiling.
"And I love you too."
His smile stretched his beard wide. "I know I'm going to fuck up now and then, but just stick with me, okay? I don't want to do shit without you. I don't want to be places where you're not. That's not who I am anymore."
"We'll work it out."
"Yeah. We will." He covered my lips with his, kissing me stupid.
"Everybody," Ben said into the microphone, his voice once more filling the stadium. "This is my girl, Liz. Say hi. We're going to be having a baby."
And that was that.
EPILOGUE
"Get! It! Out!"
"Okay, sweetheart," said Ben, holding my sweaty, straining hand. "Just breathe."
"Don't you sweetheart me. It was your penis that did this."
Dr. Peer, the obstetrician, looked at me over the rim of her face mask thingy, eyes singularly unimpressed with the drama. Asshole. She wasn't the one lying on a bed with her legs up in stirrups, vagina exposed for the whole fucking world to see, was she? No. No, she wasn't. I was. And this whole labor thing had been going on for twenty-one fucking hours now, so really something needed to be done sooner rather than later. At fifteen hours I'd given in and asked for an epidural. Best thing ever. But now my high was fading. My happy was long gone.
"You can do this, I know you can," said the amazing maternity nurse, Amy.
"Have you done it?" I snarled.
"Well ... no."
I let my eyes do the talking.
The woman took a step back.
"Easy," said Anne, bravely holding on to my other hand.
"Liz, your baby's head seems to be lodged in the birth canal," said Dr. Peer. "She isn't showing any signs of distress yet. So we can continue on as we're doing, and hopefully push her out the old-fashioned way, or you could let us help things along with a suction extraction."
"I read about those." My eyes stayed on the blip-blip-blip of the baby heart monitor screen beside me.
"Is it dangerous?" asked Ben.
"With any procedure there's a risk, but it's very minimal. Generally the child's head will just display a small bump, something like a blood blister, on the crown of her head for a couple of days. Nothing more."
"What do you want to do, sweetheart? Keep going a little longer?" He picked up a wet cloth and wiped my sweat-soaked face with it.
"I'm so tired," I cried. "Why is your head so big? If your head wasn't so big this wouldn't be happening."
"Sorry," he mumbled. At around fourteen hours, Ben had stopped trying to defend himself. Probably for the best. I wasn't to be reasoned with.
"I feel very bad for me." I cried some more.
"Another contraction coming soon," Anne announced, watching the monitor.
"Miss Rollins, why don't we set up for the extraction, just in case?" asked the ever-calm Dr. Peer.
"Okay." Some weeping.
"Oh my fucking god," said the voice of about the last person on earth I had any interest in dealing with just then. "What is the holdup in here? Do you have any idea how boring it is, waiting around for this kid to appear?"
"Martha, you cannot be in here," said Ben through gritted teeth, giving his sister a foul look.
"Get out, bitch," said Anne, ever so eloquently.
The woman swanned on over to my bedside, avoiding the sight of my girl bits so proudly on display, with a look of distaste on her perfect face. "Liz. Christ you're a mess."
Ben cracked his jaw. "Martha--"
She placed a hand on her brother's arm, gave him a look. "Relax. I have an important role here that everyone can agree I am well placed to perform. I'm here to take the abuse. Figure by now you must be running out of energy for it. And given I could hear her screams from the waiting room..."
"Contraction coming," warned Anne again.
"Get that uptight fucking bitch out of my sight," I said.
"Is that the best you've got?" Martha yawned oh so delicately. "I thought you'd be getting to be a seriously cranky little girl by now."
"You are the worst person to be in here."
"Oh please," she said, sitting down beside me and patting my shoulder. "You were handing out worse abuse to Ben and Anne, and they're saints compared to me. Let it all out."
"God you suck."
"You know, I've been sitting out there for hours, putting up with the stinky diapers and crying from Jimmy's little twin angel girls. And if your kid is anything like them, count me out for babysitting." Hand on hip, she faced me down.
"As if I'd allow my child anywhere near you unchaperoned," I snarled.
"Cute names, though. Lori and Jean. Much nicer than what you've got picked out. I really do pity that child during her school years."
"Fuck I hate you!" I screamed, every inch of me straining, bearing down with my very last reserves of energy, giving it my all.
"Tell me something I don't know!"
"You know the reason you thought I'd never sign that contract?" I raged. "Because you have the miserable condition of believing the rest of the world is as money-grubbing and selfish as you are. It's called projection."
"That's more like it," she said. "Cutting and all too true. I think you'll make a pretty good psychiatrist after all."
"Psychologist!"
"Whatever," she shrugged. "You can put it in whatever fancy college terms you want, but you haven't got anything I haven't heard before."
"Sam's in love with you, you dumbass undeserving bitch," I growled.
Her face blanked. "What?"
"If you weren't s
o clueless and self-obsessed you'd have noticed it years ago."
"Push," said Anne, fingers tightening on my hand.
"C'mon, sweetheart," said Ben. "You can do it."
Dr. Peer and Amy waited between my spread legs for any development. Everyone in the fucking room singing the same tune: push.
But it was Martha that did her best to get in my face, having apparently recovered from her surprise. "Enough dicking around, Liz. Get that kid out of you. Now."
"I'm trying!"
"Try harder, you slacker! Push!" she screamed right back at me. "Come on!"
"Argh!" My poor innocent vulva opened dreadfully, horribly, unnaturally wide. And then plop, the rest of my baby's body slid out into the waiting arms of Dr. Peer. A moment later, a truly annoyed little cry filled the air, tiny baby fists flailing.
My baby. Oh wow.
I sagged back in relief, just trying to catch my breath. Anne was crying. Ben was watching our newborn child with open wonder. Martha was giving me a smug smile. Cow.
"Knew you just needed the right motivation," she said, inspecting her perfect manicure. "Hate-fueled anger has its place, you know."
"Clueless," I singsonged back at her, as much as my complete lack of energy would allow. We both smiled. I don't really know why.
The pediatrician did a quick check of our baby while the after-birth was swiftly delivered and everything dealt with. Oh wow yeah. Never again. Never ever. Probably.
"Ladies, I present to you Gibson Thunderbird Rollins-Nicholson." Ben carefully handed my swaddled, screaming baby into my arms.
"Hey, baby. It's okay." Oh my god. The warmth inside of me, the pure love filling me up to overflowing. He quieted down, the shrill noise turning into tiny I'm-quite-put-out whimpers. A tiny nose and mouth, and two china blue eyes staring back at me. A shock of dark blond hair. "Look at you. You're wonderful."
"Isn't he?" said Ben, letting Gibson wrap a tiny finger around one of his sizably larger ones.
"He's a he," I stated, somewhat startled. "Wow."
"Wondered when you were going to clue in to that."
"And I was so sure you'd be a girl." I shook my head.
"He's perfect." Anne gazed at him with absolute adoration.
Strangely enough, so did Martha. I'd never even imagined seeing her face so soft and smitten.
"We're naming him after your favorite bass?" I asked.