Chapter 30: Frontmen Ain't Got No Sunshine

HUGE CHAPTER HERE! I thought long and hard about the what is revealed in this chapter--it really shapes the next book!

Leed

She doesn't have her phone at night. The rehab place doesn't allow it. Only certain hours, certain times of the day. I don't know why I want to talk to Ashlynn so bad right now, but I do, and it's fucking with me hard, that I can't get to her.

I think I'm craving that girl for a little sunshine.

When Ash isn't high, or hurting, she's got the sunniest touch of anybody I've ever met. I noticed it last year, when Trace had the studio put into his house and we all started hanging out there, playing around with equipment, really learning how to produce our own songs. Ashlynn was sober then, and she was a completely different person than the strung out chic Trace had chased around LA and finally wrestled to Vegas, then into rehab.

Sunny and Sober Ash has this way...of doing little things that seem like nothing, but make you feel good. The way she flashes a peace sign and a wink whenever I step up to the mic in the booth to lay down a vocal. The way she's quick with an elastic to pull back my hair for me when I stand over the mixing board or a guitar, and it falls in my face. The way she knows my favorite flavors of kombucha and always managed to keep some around at Trace's place.

I know that girl's got bruises on her brain. Yet, somehow, she's got enough light to shine through those dark, tender spots that hurt her.

And when she shines, bad shit evaporates in her warmth.

But right now, there ain't no sunshine.

Nowhere.

It's not just  that I'm cravin' Ashlynn. Or bleedin' Tamara or the baby. Or feelin' Mac's hurt that I caused.

It's also that I'm angry with Mac. That's probably why I said that shit to Adam on the balcony.

I'm fucking pissed at her. I fucking hate secrets. She knows that. I never keep any shit from her. She's my sister, my soul. I fucking hate secrets and I hate that she's keeping them from me.

I don't think she's coming down here to my suite like I asked her to, but I need her to.

I can't lose everybody all at once.

I've lost Tamara. She loves Ben, and now I see, she didn't ever love me. Not like that. I guess I never loved her like that either, but she was mine. I had her affection and her loyalty-if not her love-for eight years.

But that's over. I didn't treat her right. Or like she needed, whatever. I had to be a rock star, you know? Couldn't be loyal, couldn't have a girlfriend. Nah, that would have been unfun. So I dicked Tamara around for eight years, and now she's in love with and loyal to another man.

And Ashlynn? She wasn't ever mine—not like Tamara— and she's ain't ever gonna be, because it would fuck with Trace, and I don't fuck with brothers. But I lost her little bit of sunshine when Trace drove her away last year, and I feel colder for it.

Mac, though. Mac has always been mine. Since she was born and we lost our mother to a black hole of sadness, Mac has been mine. I have been her sunshine. That's how I know about sunshine.

I shine for my Macaroni, you know? And she shines back, like the moon, when my light hit her.

Now she doesn't need my warmth. She's got Adam powering her up differently than the way I do. He's not just shining on her. He's changing her from the inside, somehow. Building her, birthing her into a star in her own right.

I like that—Mac glowing from the inside. Not just putting on her killer face and reflecting, but truly lit up, the way she is now. So I'll fucking share her with Adam down the line, but right now, I'm calling dibs.

I need my Macaroni. We gotta get right.

When I hear the secret rap we've shared since childhood, I am beyond relieved. Even though, you know, I'm going to rip her a new one, I still need her. That's just how we roll.

I swing open the door. Without her makeup, with wet hair, she looks sixteen. I don't smile at her, though. I make room, and she slides past, into my darkened suite. The only lights are from the city, beyond the wall of windows.

We sit on opposite couches, glaring at each other in the shadows. I drink. She doesn't. I have some small respect for that...she's staying sharp, to make the kill. It doesn't fucking matter how much more I drink. I'm already sloppy.

She speaks first. "I'm  pissed at you."

Fuck Macaroni. You want to see who blinks first? Fine. "Same. But more--I'm fucking pissed at you," I tell her.

She looks surprised, but then she looks away.

Yep. You blinked, baby sister. I fucking knew it.  I have reason to be pissed at her.

"How long have you known?" I say it casually, but matter-of-factly.

She twirls a rainbow lock of hair nervously. "About?" she asks.

Are you fucking kidding me, sis? Why you lyin'?

"How long have you known that Tamara is pregnant with my baby?" I ask through gritted teeth.

Her eyes go wide and her lips go tight. "Leed, this is a conversation you need to have with Tamara..."

Fuck, I'm right. I put my head in my hands, and somehow—I don't even know how—the next thing I know, my head is in Mac's lap. "MacKenna, please. I'm not a fool. About any of it. You weren't surprised. By anything Tamara said. And I Googled paternity tests. You don't have to wait until a kid is born to find out who the father is anymore. They can get the baby's DNA from the mother's bloodstream. All you need is the mother's blood and one of the potential fathers.  They can do the test when a woman is three months pregnant. So just tell me the goddamn truth. I...I need somebody...to tell me the goddamn truth."

Mac wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders and strokes my hair. She sighs. "They had the test a few weeks ago. The baby is not Ben's. Tamara said there was no one else. It's yours, Leed. You're the father," she whispers.

I feel nothing for a minute. Then, all I feel is relief. Relief that Mac couldn't bullshit me when I asked her straight.

I slide off her lap and my ass hits the floor. I reach for the bottle.

"Thank you. You can fucking go, now." I don't really mean it, but it sounds like a thing I should say, as I turn up the bottle of Scotch.

"No," she snaps, grabbing the bottle from me. "Say the angry shit you need to say to me. Cause you don't have that luxury anymore with Tamara-to spew hate. She's the mother of your child, if you want her to be. And...it's..." Mac hesitates. "Not that it matters, but the DNA tells the sex, too. It's a boy. You're having a son, Leed."

"A son," I repeat. I rise and walk a few paces away, toward the windows. A son It's really too fucking much. A son. "Tamara's the mother of my son...if I want her to be?" I round on Mac" What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You just said, the kid is mine! And you both fucking lied to me about it!!!!" I roar.

"Tamara wanted to give you...an out," MacKenna says quietly. "I...I couldn't take that away from you...the option for..."

"The option for me to pretend like I might not be the father? To not give a fuck?" I laugh bitterly. "Well, news flash...I give a fuck, MacKenna!!! I gave a fuck about you, your whole life, haven't I? What makes you think I'm such a shit, that I would just wave it off—the idea that I might have a kid? Goddammit!"

I whirl away, stalk back and forth threw the suite. Mac watches me pace. I can't even fucking think. I'm filled with a sense of utter futility.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

If I claim this kid, I could easily mess him up from the very start. I'm bone-deep angry with Tamara for her bad attempt at deceiving me. And fucking Ben Sullivan, too. Stood there and lied to my face, pretending like they didn't know who the father was. Both of them. If I call them out on the lie, it's going to be hard for us to get past this fucking rough start.

But--

If I do what Tamara is asking... let Ben claim the kid as his own...that seems like a time bomb. That shit usually outs itself in the end, especially in the high-tech DNA riddled world we live in. What happens, years down the road, when the kid swabs his cheek for a fucking school science project and finds out the truth--that his dad is not his dad? That's a fucking head-trip, that's what. He'll think his parents are liars, and that I didn't give a shit.

I give a shit. I just don't want to fuck another human being up. Especially my blood...my son.  Even under the best of circumstances...I never thought about having a kid. They are too impressionable. Too easy to scar.

"Fuck," I enunciate softly, and drop down on the couch beside my sister.

Tears are streaming down Mac's face. I want to be angry with her, but I can't stand to see her cry. She keeps doing that lately. She never cried as a kid. She screamed and cussed and kicked frequently, but she never cried. My arms go around her automatically.

"Baby girl...don't...please. I'm not even that mad at you...I know it wasn't your place to tell me, even though I'm glad you finally did. No fucking wonder you've been acting so weird and emotional lately. I'm sorry Tamara put you in the middle of this...but I'm glad you're telling me now. It's better this way. I need to get my head around this,  before I talk to Tamara again..."

Mac is making sounds of despair and agreement at the same time. "I know. You're right. And I'm sorry, Leed. I didn't want to lie to you, but you didn't ask for this. Tamara thought you deserved the opening move. I couldn't blame her for that. I mean...a kid, Leed! It's fucking, massively huge. It's...insane...terrifying...the idea...of being...a parent..." she's sobbing now. "And...what...the fuck...are we...supposed to do...with a baby?!?!?! In this lifestyle?!?!? With the tour..." She's shaking in her anguish, tears soaking through my shirt.

I pat her back. She's not really making me feel better about the kid, but there's something...comforting in the way she's talking. What are we supposed to do with a baby, she says. Like it's her baby, too. I guess in a way it is. She'll be this kid's aunt. More than that, she'll be like his second mother, because if I'm in the shit, Mac automatically puts herself in the shit with me.

"Fuck if I know, Macaroni. We'll just be crazy hippie co-parents, I guess. But not like mom. But not like dad, either."

I feel her nodding slowly against my chest. "Adam says..." she hiccups... "That people are either because-of's or in-spite-of's. Maybe...we could do better than them...you know, in spite of them."

"Well, one thing is for damn sure...I doubt we'll do worse." I pull up the edge of my t-shirt and roughly wipe her tears. She swats my attempt away.

"Here's another good thing," I tell her. "You can't be mad at me for what I said on the balcony, because you did a worse thing—keeping this from me. So...even-stevens, yeah?"

I'm hoping she says we are square. I really can't take more fighting right now. I've reached the abso-fucking-lute limit of unfun.

She pushes off my chest. "It really hurt me—what you said—that I'd be the same as our mother. And telling Adam not to get me pregnant—that's not your right, Leed. Not even-stevens. You need to take that back."

I groan and roll my head back to look at the shadows on the ceiling. "Okay. I take back the part about you not being able to handle having a kid. I was just freaked out, and  I hope to Christ you can, because god knows I have no fucking clue how to be a parent, and  I'm going to need all the help I can get. But the other part, I'm definitely not taking back. I need you, Macaroni. I need you to keep Adam boyfriend-zoned, until we figure what the hell to do with a kid, ok? Please, don't promise him you'll move in with him, or marry him, or worse. For god's sakes, make sure you don't double our Soundcrush baby-drama, ok? I'm fucking freaking, here. I need you more than he does right now."

Mac pales. She slowly lowers her head to my chest again. "I know, Leed. I'm fucking freaking, too."

Neither of us can think of anymore to say. We stay together on the sofa, huddled in solidarity. Just like always. Lawson sibs against the world. When her phone vibrates, Mac ignores Adam's calls. Twice. When he texts me, she takes the phone from me and lies to him—tells him she's asleep. A long time later, we do go to bed...Mac in one bedroom of the suite and me in the other.

Goddamn, I'm glad I didn't have to act like a complete baby and beg her to stay with me tonight.

Cause I would have, but I'm glad she didn't make me.

I'm just so fucking relieved that Mac is back, and Madam is on the backburner.

Oh. Damn. Thoughts?