Anna was in the living room with the girls, supervising while they played with dolls. Gibson was pretending that her doll was Onnika. She had her tied up with yarn and lying across a train set. The train was speeding down the tracks, and Gibson was making no move whatsoever to save the replica of her little sister.
Just when I was thinking that maybe I should have another talk with Gibson, Onnika decided to save herself. She waddled over to her distressed miniature and picked her up, right before the train collided with her. It made me feel connected to my youngest daughter. Exactly, Onnie. When life shits on you, sometimes you have to be your own superhero.
Gibson didn’t feel the same. She shoved Onnika backward, onto her plump diaper. I don’t think the fall hurt her, but the sudden movement definitely scared her.
Anna and I snapped at Gibson at the same time. Seeing us both upset made her cry, which made Onnika cry.
Girls. The tiniest things sent them into hysterics.
I held Onnika while Anna had a heart-to-heart with Gibson. With crying children in our arms, it was difficult to talk to my wife. Or maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t kill me if she was trying to calm down our daughter. “So…I called a real estate agent today. I was thinking maybe it was time we put the house in Seattle up for sale.”
Anna stopped mid-cuddle and stared at me openmouthed. “You…? Really?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I think we should. It seems like a waste of money, making payments on an empty house. And we’re trying to cut back, you know?”
“Oh, well I guess that makes sense,” she said, surprised but looking pleased. “Okay, yeah, make it happen.” She didn’t ask what we should price it at, and I was grateful. From what the agent had said, we were going to lose money on the deal; we’d paid way too much when we’d bought it.
Knowing I had to break the news to her sooner or later, I inhaled a deep breath, then said in a rush, “And actually, I was thinking…it’s stupid to waste money on renting a place right now. We should just save as much as we can until the show launches in the fall. I called Mom and Dad, and they said we could move back in with them. So…I told them we’d move in next month.”
Anna slowly closed her eyes, then shook her head. “If we’d just gotten something modest in the beginning…” she said. Her voice trembled in her effort to stay calm.
Setting Onnika down, I walked over to her. After scooting Gibson out of the way, I got down on my knees and looked up at her face. Feeling my presence, Anna opened her eyes. The green gems I adored were a little duller than before. That was my fault. The stress of dragging her down here, the stress of lying to her, everything I’d done recently had changed her. Me too. I felt worn from the inside out most days. I just needed something to work out like I planned it to.
“I know. I fucked up.” On so many things. “But the album will get us through until the fall. And then everything will be okay. I promise. I promise this will all work out, Anna.” It had to, because there were no more backup plans.
Her eyes widened, and the fear in them was unmistakable. “You don’t make promises.”
Nodding, I told her, “Exactly. But on this…I am. Just don’t give up on me. Okay?” Please see this through with me.
She was silent so long that I was sure she was going to tell me my crazy antics were finally too much for her and she was out of here. Jesus, I really hoped she didn’t say that. I couldn’t handle the sudden uncertainty of my life without her by my side, which was why I was selfishly piecemealing the truth to her. If I told her how fucked we really were, she’d be gone.
Anna studied me for a minute longer, then said, “Okay, Griffin. We can live with your parents. Until the fall.”
The sudden relief made me light-headed. Thank God. I at least had until the fall to dig myself out of this gargantuan hole I’d created. Hopefully that was enough time.
It didn’t take much to convince Anna that we should purge our household items so we had a safety net until the show took off. We sold most of the big-ticket items—like my fucktastic Hummer and some of Anna’s jewelry. Everything else we put into storage. We were going to live simply for a while, which kind of sucked for everyone, but it was only temporary. I’d get everything back, and then some.
We moved into my parents’ place with only a week’s worth of clothes each and a handful of toys for the girls. All of our stuff fit into four boxes that I stuffed in Dad’s minivan, since all of my cars were gone. Most everything of real value was gone. But surprisingly, Alfred was the hardest thing for me to part with. I’d gotten attached to having someone on hand to satisfy my every whim. I’d maybe even grown fond of the quiet, obedient ghost of a man himself, who seemed to appear out of nowhere right when I needed him the most. I teared up when I told him his services were no longer required. His only response was a curt nod goodbye. Damn my bad luck. And bad choices.
After the last of our boxes were shoved into my childhood bedroom, Anna sat on the bed and sighed. While Gibson jumped on the mattress and Onnika took halting steps around the room, I sat on the bed beside Anna. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I told her, “It could be worse.”
As the kids started fighting over a toy sticking out of a box, Anna tilted her head at me in question. “Really? How so?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could, Onnika threw up over everything inside the box. Well, that could happen.
Or you could find out just how fucked we really are.
Chapter 19
Not That Awesome
Almost every day, someone seemed to ask for more money—my songwriter, my producer, the guy designing my album cover, the recording studio, and even my family. They were all siphoning me dry. The house in Seattle finally sold, but with what I still owed on it, my bank account was hovering in the mid-four-digit mark. That wouldn’t last long in this city.
“What do you mean you need another five thousand,” I asked my songwriter when he upped his price yet again.
“I had to pay out of pocket for the musical arrangement. I just want to be paid back for expenses that are rightfully yours.”
I ran a hand down my face, discouraged. If I paid him five grand¸ I’d have nothing but pocket change left. “Musical arrangement? I thought I paid you for that shit. Why do I have to pay someone else?”
He sighed like he’d explained this to me a dozen times already. I wasn’t sure if he had or not. Dude had a tendency to talk like he was Shakespeare or something. “Like I said before, my genius is combining words into flowing art forms that glow with life and pulsate with sound. But I need a partner to make the words take flight. And five grand. Per song.”
“Per song? Are you fucking high?” When he didn’t respond, I growled, “Fine. I’ll get you the fucking money.”
Hanging up the phone, I cursed and refrained myself from chucking it against the wall. I couldn’t break my dad’s handset too. “Well, great. What the fuck do I do now?” I asked Onnika, standing at my feet. She only stared up at me with her dark eyes and gave me a tooth-filled smile. “Being adorable won’t help.” I told her.
Closing my eyes, I groaned and considered my options. My parents? My brother or sister? The guys? No, none of those were doable. If I was going to get the amount of money I needed, I would have to do something stupid. Because I couldn’t let Anna know how screwed we were. The only reason she was still on board with any of this was because of the TV show. The ace in the hole, or so she believed.
Deciding to just do it before I could think too much about it, I called my credit card company and had them raise my limit. Then I called the bank and set up an appointment to get a loan. I had to. I’d never get out of this mess if the album never got finished. And if I didn’t finish it, my marriage was over. I just knew it.
Tossing the phone onto the mattress, I reached down for my daughter. The house was oddly quiet for a change; the peace was nice. Onnika was in that busy stage where she didn’t really want to be held, she just wanted to be free. As I
suddenly felt a collar being shackled around my neck, I understood, and I released her so she could do as she pleased. Scrambling over to the phone on the bed, she picked it up and start punching buttons while saying my name.
“Don’t let her fall off the bed¸ babe.” Appearing in the doorway, Anna pointed at Onnika.
Walking over to me, Anna sat herself in my lap. My cock instantly twitched in excitement. Our sex life had dwindled some, since we were sharing a room with the kids. And sneaking off to have sex in the shower, while great, was starting to wear thin. I just wanted to fuck my wife senseless on a king-sized mattress with no child within earshot. God, I missed those days.
Lacing her arms around my neck, Anna asked, “Have you heard back from the producer? Can I hear the first song yet?”
A twinge of guilt ran through me so fast, it instantly killed my arousal. I hadn’t wanted to lie about leaving all the time to record the album, so a few days after we’d moved in with my parents, I’d told Anna a half lie—that a record label had picked me up. She’d been excited to hear that, and proud, which had made me feel pretty goddamn shitty. Honestly, it still made me feel shitty. But having hope on the horizon had eased Anna’s mood and her mind, so the lie was almost worth the regret. Almost.
The song that she was curious about was the first single. I’d recorded it last week, but the guys I’d hired were still tweaking it. Seemed odd to me that they needed to. Once a D-Bags song had been laid down, it was good to go…no alterations required. But I’d heard the raw cut of the single, and I agreed with my producer. It needed…something.
Frowning, I told her, “No, not yet…it’s not good enough.”
By the look on Anna’s face, it was obvious she was shocked to hear me admit that. I could understand why. Typically¸ I loved everything I did. But I wasn’t all that fond of myself at the moment, and I was under a lot of pressure. This album needed to be perfect. “Not good enough? You always think everything is…well, amazing.”
Yeah, but I have so much more riding on this than I usually do. My entire world is wrapped up in that CD…you just don’t know that. Smiling, I shrugged. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s spectacular, but it’s just not quite the right level of awesome yet.” I pinched her butt. “You just have to wait.”
Giggling, she squirmed on my lap, lightening my mood and making my dick harden back up. Then Onnika laughed and I completely lost it. Goddammit. If we didn’t get out of here, I might not ever have sex again.
Anna let out a long sigh as she threaded her fingers through my hair. It was wistful, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she missed having sex with me too. Rubbing her back, I murmured, “Maybe Mom and Dad can watch the kids tonight, and we can borrow the car? Take a drive somewhere nice and quiet…get freaky in the backseat?” I wriggled my eyebrows at her and she smirked.
“You want to borrow your parents’ car and make out at a lookout point.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “It’s like I’m fifteen again.”
Ignoring the humor in her tone, I said, “Just an idea. You seemed like you wanted to do me, that’s all.”
She made another wistful sigh. “No…that’s not what I was thinking about.” When I gave her a funny look, she smiled and amended her statement. “Yes, I do want to do you, and not just hidden away in the pantry, but…” She sighed again. “Kiera called this morning. She’s pregnant…”
By the way she said it, and the way she stared at Onnika beating the phone against the mattress, it was clear she wanted to be pregnant again too. “You want to try for another one, babe? ’Cause we can put Onnie down for a nap, find Gibson, and…” Peering over Anna’s shoulder, I listened for my eldest daughter. “Where is Gibson anyway?”
Anna shook her head and answered my first question. “We can’t afford another baby right now, Griffin. Not until the show starts.” By the way she said it, she was holding on to that possibility like it was a lifeline. Like she was hoping the album did well, but the show was her true salvation. A horrible feeling welled within me—it was corrosive, like battery acid, and for the millionth time, I thought I should just tell her the truth. I opened my mouth to do it right as Gibson ran into the room holding a foot-long snake.
“Look, Mommy! It’s squirmy!”
Gibson laughed. Anna screamed. And the truth never made it past my lips.
Thanks to loans and credit cards, I was able to pay all the people I owed money to and was able to finish my album. It took two more very long months to do it, but I eventually had a full, finished record. And even though the album was the best thing I’d ever heard while I’d been recording it, I was nervous to hear the final product, scared even. It was a strange feeling for me. I was never nervous. For anything. Maybe it was the stress of living with my parents. Maybe it was the fact that I owed a shitload of money that I wouldn’t be able to repay if this album wasn’t a hit. Maybe it was because I had a ton of pressure on me now, like never before. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was doing this alone, without Anna 100 percent beside me, because she didn’t know the whole story. I hated it. In many ways, life had been so much easier when I was with the D-Bags.
On the night the album went live for preordering, I brought a copy home for everyone to listen to. Mom invited the family over for dinner and made a batch of her world-famous lasagna. I almost wished she hadn’t, since I was kind of freaking out about this CD—literally everything I had was riding on this album—but I supposed it was only appropriate to have the people I cared about most there for the unveiling. It better be good. I couldn’t afford for it to be anything less than amazing.
While dinner cooked, I sat everyone down in the living room. My palms were sweating, I was so tense. Damn it, I hated clammy hands. This was my moment of glory. I should be flying high, so full of confidence it bordered on arrogance. And any other time I would have been, but this flimsy little disc was either going to make me or break me. Fuck.
Grabbing the plain CD case, I showed it to my family. “This is going to blow your mind.” I hoped they bought the assurance, since I didn’t really feel it.
Liam, leaning forward, asked, “Who is Figfrin Hancock?”
Wondering what the hell Liam was talking about, I looked at the CD case. Sure as shit, written in bold Sharpie across the CD were the words “Figfrin Hancock Demo.” What the fuck? “The idiot producer spelled it wrong, is all.”
Liam snorted. “Wow, if he can’t even get your name right, I can’t wait to hear this.”
Drilling holes into him with my eyes, I opened the case and popped out the CD. My stomach felt like I’d eaten a questionable taco from an even more questionable food truck. If I had antacids, I’d be downing them like candy. It made me wish I had a drink in my hand. Or several. Please let this be good.
The CD started to play, but oddly, what was coming out of the stereo wasn’t music. It was me complaining to the producer. “Is it going? I can’t hear the music. Should I be able to hear the music? Or am I supposed to fucking guess where we’re at in the song. Oh, wait…here we go. I hear it now. Let’s do this shit!” Then a hard-driving beat started. Weird that he’d kept that in, but oh well, I guess it worked. What didn’t work was the fact that I came in late. Even I could hear that I was a beat behind the rhythm. Chelsey and Mom had their eyebrows bunched, like they knew something was off. What the hell? I thought maybe it would correct when it got to the rapping section, but it didn’t. If anything, it was even more off.
Liam went into a fit of laughter during my rap montage. “Wait…are you rapping about deli meats? Oh my God, you are.”
Annoyed, I pressed the skip button. The next song was a ballad. Those were popular and impossible to mess up, so I felt better about the odds of it being good. Until I heard my voice. “What the fuck is wrong with this piece of junk?” I asked, examining the stereo for some lever that was adjusted wrong. My voice sounded like I was a robot singing through a tin can who couldn’t hold a note to save his life.
“Um, babe,” A
nna’s quiet voice said, “I don’t think it’s the stereo. I think that’s how it was recorded.”
“Damn it,” I muttered, hitting skip again. But every song just got worse and worse.
When it was over, the room was silent. Even the kids were staring, speechless. Chelsey cleared her throat. “Griffin, they weren’t all bad…maybe a few could be cleaned up or rerecorded…”
I ran my hands through my hair as icy panic flooded my veins. No. This was supposed to be epic. It was supposed to fix everything…not make everything worse. “I can’t. They’ve already gone to distribution. This is the final product, and I don’t have any money left to fix it anyway. I spent every dime I had on this, maxed out every credit card. I’m fucking broke! I’d have to take out another bank loan just to buy the matches to burn this shit!” I threw the empty CD case against the floor, cracking the frame and breaking the hinge.
Anna stood from her spot on the couch; her face was ghostly white. “What are you talking about, Griffin? What do you mean you spent every dime? You said you got a record deal.”
Feeling my heart start to pound, my head start to swim, I tried to swallow the icy lump of shame in my throat. It wouldn’t budge. There was no way she would be okay with what I’d done. Not now, when I had nothing good to show for it. I was fucked. We were fucked. And it was all my fault…
“I tried, Anna. I did everything I could think to do, but no label would take me. The only way I could do the album was to make it myself. And it was so goddamn expensive, so much more than I ever thought it would be, but I had to find money somewhere. I had to. I couldn’t leave it unfinished.” Because this was the only chance I had. And now it’s gone.
Anna started breathing heavier; she looked like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. I wanted to comfort her, but I knew touching her right now would not be a good idea. Behind her, Gibson was watching us with wide, scared eyes. Goddammit, I was hurting two of the people I cared about most. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.