I think the song sums up Adam's state of mind, but here's the chapter that does along with it...
Adam, about six hours ago
After I leave Mac, I don't go down the main stairs. The house is so damn big, I know it has to have a back stair. I find it and ease down into the empty kitchen. I don't see what I'm looking for on any of the counters. My hands are shaking as I open the freezer.
Thank fuck. I can always count on Trace to keep his liquor in the freezer.
I take the bottle half-way back up those hidden back stairs, sit and drink until my hands stop shaking.
I can't get the image of our baby girl out of my mind. So tiny, so fragile, so helpless. At the mercy of a tear in her mama's womb that I'm sure I caused. Happened in the early pregnancy, the doc said. Causes not well understood, he said.
How many fights did we have in those early weeks? How many times did I lose my mind and fight with Mac, pushing her to admit her feelings when she wasn't ready? How many times did I push her to the limit of leaving me for good and then, terrified she would, fall right over the brink of insanity and push her down on a bed and fuck her senseless—like an animal—so she would remember she belonged to me? So that she would feel "the truth"— that no one else could claim her and own her body like I can?
After every time I loved her too roughly—when I came down in the dark, when the fight fury and the lust craze was over—I felt terrible. I worried that I had hurt her or the baby. I lay awake, watching Mac's face in her sated sleep, searching for the slightest twinge of discomfort. Every morning after, when she drew back the covers, a black dread twisted my gut, a fear that the blood from my nightmares would stain the sheets.
Dreaded it. Expected it. Was in no way prepared for it.
Every time, I was too rough with her. I denied it then, but I'm sure of it now.
The hell of it is, I'm sure she knows it, too. She just loves me too fucking much to blame me for it. What the fuck kind of twisted situation is that? Where I am the worst kind of sick bastard, and I put her and our baby in danger, and she looks at me like I'm her savior?
I am not the man she thinks I am. I am not my father. I am not a Preacher.
I can't get the image of our unborn daughter out of my mind. I think back on all the sketch things I've done. I've abused girls' trusts. Ainsley wasn't the only girl at college that I took from, who ended up wanting more than I was willing to give. Those girls were someone's daughter. I never want anyone to treat my daughter the way I've treated other girls.
The way I treated her mother.
I took Mac to bed the first time I met her, without any thought to the consequences, and drove her relentlessly down a path of insecurity that almost her got her killed. A path that led her here, traumatized and accidentally pregnant and coping with the possibility of losing the baby she has come to love.
I don't know what will happen to Mac if she loses the baby. It will rip a hole through her, one I don't know how to repair.
Good god, if our daughter survives in spite of the damage I've done, what the hell kind of father can I be to her?
I look back through the years—all the girls I've soiled. I've made innocent girls into fangirls. I've introduced inexperienced girls to drugs. I can hear myself—the same kind of speech, over and over, every time I hoteled one of the shy, sweet ones that always gravitate to me.
What's wrong baby? You nervous about being up next to the band? Don't be. Stick with me and nobody else will bother you. We don't even have to mess around, if you don't want to. You can just hang and party with us. If you want, you can smoke a little of my weed with me, but you don't have to. Oh, the candy dish on the table? Well, not really my thing, but if you wanna taste...the white ones aren't that strong, but maybe only take a half, okay? Don't go crazy, but whatever you want to do is good. I'll call the car to take you home whenever you want. You're in control, baby.
Except they weren't in control of their better judgment, not after we partied. I never laid a hand on a girl that wasn't eager for me, but how many times did it go too far with a girl I should have known was past the point of sober consent? How many "surprise" virgins ended up my body count? At the time, I told myself I was giving them the first time they asked me for. How many good girls did I send on a walk of shame without a second thought? How many of them fell in love with an actual good guy later on and regret the rock star that can't even remember their names?
How many haven't found a good guy, a happy ending? How girls left my hotel room riddled with more than regret? Riddled with drugs they had never experienced before? How many girls got a taste for the seedy side of life from me? The sudden question of how many Ashlynn's I may have been personally responsible for creating sends me running down the stairs, and out the kitchen door. I vomit over the deck rail, but because I'm a sorry son of a bitch, I wash away the taste of vomit with more whiskey.
All my sins are coming to bear. Upon the life of my daughter, my sweet baby girl that I am not even disciplined enough to protect before she's born.
"Adam! What the fuck?" Leed's voice is shocked as I turn and he sees the bottle in my hand. He puts out a hand to brace himself against the wall. "Oh god...your face...Mac lost the baby?"
I shake my head quickly. "No. She and the baby are okay. At least for the moment—we can't be positive what's going to happen. She's upstairs in bed...where she needs rest," I growl as he turns at once to go to her.
"Leed," I growl again, "she's probably already asleep."
He turns, a vicious look in his eye. "What if she's not, Adam? If she's upstairs thinking she might still lose her baby, what the fuck are you doing down here?"
I close my eyes for a long moment, and put on the Preacher's robes, feeling like a false prophet. "She's good, I promise. I would never leave her up there, if I didn't know she's got a handle on her shit. She's all about staying calm for the baby. To be fucking honest, I've never seen her so steady. Hell, she's in better shape than I am. I came down to give you an update, but," I hold out my hand. It's still shaking. "I needed a minute, okay?"
Leed's face softens a little. He looks at the bottle. "Goddamn, at least get a glass, man." He stalks to the kitchen, retrieves two, takes the bottle from me, pours us each way too much, and jerks his head toward the living room where the guys are. "Come on, I need to hear now. We all do."
To my surprise, Marley is still here, too, talking in low tones with the guys. She's the first to see me, and she alerts the others. Everyone in the room rises eagerly. I give Marley the chin tip. "Thank you," is all I can manage to her right now, but Marley is good people. She understands I'm overwhelmed. She smiles her warm, empathetic smile. "I should go now."
I shake my head. "Stay. At least to hear what's going on. I know you've been concerned too," I tell my friend. She nods and sits.
"Mac is okay. The baby is okay. We're hoping for the best, but there's still a significant chance she could lose the baby in the next few weeks," I say bluntly, and gesture for everyone to follow Marley's lead and sit. I give them the whole story, ending with the statistics, and the guidelines the doctor gave and the heads-up that Mac and I will shorten our time here at the Vineyard, in order to see her new specialist in Nashville—right after the Call-Out.
Trace nods. "What do you need from us, man?"
I take another drink, run a hand through my hair. "This weekend? Just...love on her. Be gentle. Don't stress her out." I grimace. "After that? I don't know. She's done with LA for now. Moran told her she was released from her deadline on her EP, and she's finished everything else they asked her to do. She thinks she's back home with us, on the road. She wants to play, share the stage with Arabella. The doctor said she could, but..."
"You don't think it's a good idea," Trace nods. "You got a mind to leave her with your family in Nashville, yeah?"
Before I can even nod, Leed is shaking his head. "Naw, man. No way. She belongs with us. What if something happens and she's there with strangers and not her family?"
"They are not strangers, they are her family now, too." I tell him. "She's my wife. She's my pregnant wife, threatening miscarriage. She doesn't belong in the middle of all the hell-raising and stress and rowdiness, like we live on tour."
"So we tone down, man. We can do that, right? This is Mac we are talking about. Surely we can do that, for our girl," Bodie says. He looks around, his eyes landing for some weird reason on Marley, like she going to agree. But Marley knows this is band business and she stays silent, giving Bodie nothing more than another one of those heartwarming smiles.
"Tone down? When Arabella comes back around?" I say. "And with the Strut girls raising hell? It's like our first months in LA all over again. Either the tone-down won't last, or Mac is going to feel like she's dragging down the party...either way it's going to stress her."
Trace's eyes are steel. "I'm with you, brother. I get it. If it were Kat, in Mac's shoes, there wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do, anybody I wouldn't go through," he glances at Leed, "to protect her."
Leed picks up the challenge Trace is throwin' down. His voice is tight when he laughs and carelessly swipes the Jack off the table, pouring another slug for him and me. He clinks glasses with me.
"I'm with you too, brother," he says a little bitterly, "I want what's best for Mac and I'm telling you, sidelining her in Nashville ain't it. For the simple fact that she ain't ever gonna go for it, and it's gonna cause a big fight for nothin', and fighting with you is her biggest stressor of all." He knocks his drink back.
He's right, in a way. Mac won't let me leave her behind in Nashville. I know that. I open my throat and empty the glass, reach for the bottle again. It glugs for a long time as I refill my glass. It takes less me time to drink it than it took to fill it. Marley catches my eye, a look of concern on her face but I look away. For what I have to say, I need it.
I slam the glass down on the table and rise. "I need you to hear me. All of you to hear me. I don't which way to go here, but I saw my daughter on the ultrasound tonight, and I can't help thinking the way we are...the life we lead...the way I am...has put her in jeopardy. And if by the grace of god, she's born into this world, I can't let this shit touch her. I don't want this life anymore...the fangirls hanging around...the drugs...the fucking blitz every night..." I throw my arm toward the bong on the coffee table, the five dozen bottles of liquor set up on the dining room table. "And Mac can't do this anymore. Maybe...maybe...we both belong in Nashville. Maybe the ride is over."
It's hard to believe the uproar three guys can make. Leed, Trace, and Bodie all on their feet all yelling versions of whoa!, what the fuck? are you fucking kidding? Riley raising his hands and calmly saying, "Alright, alright, calm down, calm down."
No one is calming down. Every one is amping up. Leed is my face yelling that I don't get to make that call for Mac. Trace is hauling Leed back. Bodie is trying to get in between them, but is being way-leighed by Marley. My world is reeling, and I don't know how to right it. I think I'm half-crying, half-laughing. I keep saying "Maybe it's over. I don't fucking know."
Finally, Riley gets tired of our bullshit and picks up the bong off the coffee table so he can step on top, and throws it against the fireplace where it shatters. "I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" he shouts.
Shock, more than anything else, silences us. Riley looks a little surprised, but he presses his advantage.
"First of all, nobody's quitting the goddamn band. Not after a night like tonight. Certainly not distraught and drunk on their ass," he gestures at me. "And definitely not on my watch. So every one of you just take a fucking beat."
Leed growls. Trace prowls. Bodie blows out a long breath and ties his dreads back. I pour another drink.
"Adam, maybe slow down," Marley says softly.
"Marley, you're my friend, but what I drink is not your call, okay?" I warn her. She looks a little sad. She murmurs something to Bodie but he shakes his head and murmurs something back and Marley wanders off to the kitchen.
Riley steps down off the table, and sits on the edge, taking a swig from my bottle of Jack, gesturing for me to return to my seat. When I reluctantly sit, he offers me the bottle back. "Look, Adam, I can't pretend to know how you feel right now. None of us can, really. Your world is changing and that's a mind-fuck. But you are proposing Soundcrush Armageddon, and you are leaving both your wife and your bandmate out of the discussion. You love each other, you love this band. Does it even sound right, to be having this discussion without her here?"
"No," I concede.
"Of course not," Riley repeats. "And she's not in shape to take this on right now. I get that your life may be changing, but rocking the Soundcrush boat is the last thing MacKenna needs right now."
"Damn straight," Leed says. Bodie grunts in support of Leed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Trace shrug in reluctant agreement.
"Adam? What do you say, mate? Table this whole discussion? Until Mac's through her pregnancy crisis?"
"I don't know if this discussion can wait that long..." I say.
"Fine. At least until after you've seen her specialist. Go home. Get a second opinion on Mac's condition. See your family. Get some clarity."
I rub a hand over my face, feeling a million years old. "Yeah, maybe you are right, Riley." I look around at the guys. I rise slowly, twist my hands up in a gesture of frustration and futility. "Fuck.I'm just...fucked."
Trace grips both of my shoulders and looks me in the eye. "It ain't over. We'll get through this like we get through everything. Together." I nod, but I can't really keep his gaze. Whether it's because I'm drunk or because my heart isn't with him, I don't really know at this point.
Leed just silently squeezes my shoulder and follows Trace out.
Riley looks at me speculatively.
"I've got him," Bodie says. "If you'll make sure Marley gets back to her hotel?"
"Of course," Riley says. "Things will look different in the morning light, Heartley." Then he grins. "Well, maybe in a few days. You are going to have one helluva hangover."
I collapse on the couch with a groan. My eyes are closed, and I hear Bodie moving around in the dining room behind me, then he flops down on the couch beside me.
"Hey, you remember how we used to avoid a hangover back in college, if we partied Friday night and had a day gig on Saturday?"
I snort. "Of course I remember. Drink on through."
He thrusts a fresh glass in my hand. We clink glasses. This is much better whiskey than the basic black label Trace had in the freezer.
"You're a good friend, Bodie," I tell him. "You think I'm wrong, but here you are, consoling me."
"Shit, man. I ain't just no friend. Look at it this way. You and Mac are having a kid. Her brother and my cousin are having a kid. We are kin now. Linked by blood."
I crack an eye. "I hadn't thought of like that, Bodie, but you are right. Your second cousin is going to be my kids cousin. Damn, four out of five Soundcrush, not just band family, but actual family. That's nice, man."
Bodie grunts in agreement. "Yep, Trace is the odd man out. But one day, he might be linked to us all by blood, too."
I'm too sloppy to hide my smile, but I try to bullshit anyway. "How you figure, man?"
He tsks at me and sips the whiskey. Then he taps his head. "Boy, I ain't stupid. Ole Bodie has a good memory. Ever since Leed pulled that Tequila Girl sob story at your wedding, I've been doing the rewind, replay on the college days. Took me a while, to hit on the right night, the right party. We both know that girl he's been on for four years is Ashlynn. And if she stays straight, that's girl's a honey homemaker if I've ever seen one. Figure they'll knock out a couple of kids, and so will Trace and Kat, eventually. The Ballard sisters will be the final tie. Then we'll all be linked by blood. We'll all be living the straight life. Sucks for you and Mac to be struggling and be the first ones to really settle down, but you gotta be strong, Preacher. Lead us to the promised land.""
"Jesus, you got it all mapped out, huh?" I'm so drunk now that I find Bodie's little portrait of the future pretty funny. No matter how hard I try, I just can't see Trace changing diapers and livin' the straight life.
"Hold up," I point a finger at Bodie and my drink sloshes, "In your version of the future, you got us all married with kids, but you."
His laugh is diabolical. "You caught that, huh? I'll just be the cool Uncle. Footloose and fancy-free."
"At least you're not planning to make Arabella a part of this family portrait you are painting. She's a succubus." I groan.
"She does suck pretty good," Bodie agrees.
"Shut the fuck up man, I don't want to hear about your child-porn."
"She's nineteen," he laughs easily.
"She's. A. Succubus." I repeat. "A beautiful monster that eats your soul."
"She ain't that bad, man," he says a little defensively. "She's just young. She needs to learn. And if I remember what Moran said, that's your job. Teach her, Preacher." He laughs a little more at his rhyme.
"Oh god," I drain my glass. I don't even want to think about Mac and Arabella sharing space. Mac thinks they will play nice and share, but my job will probably turn into keeping Mac from trying to kill Bells. Queens don't really take a shine to usurpers.
"I got ninety-nine problems, Bodie." I hold out my empty glass.
"I know, brother. But whiskey ain't one," he quips, as he pours me another drink.
After this glass, I mean to get up and go to Mac's bed. But then, Marley wanders in to say goodbye, because Riley has got a car for her. I apologize for what I said to her and she accepts it gracefully. I try to get up to walk her to the door, but I stumble and Bodie pushes me back down. Something about the way that Bodie ushers her out—all the way to the car—makes me pour another drink, just so I can ask, "When did you and Marley get so chummy?"
"While we were waitin' on your sorry ass to call us and let us know how Mac was," he replies. "But we aren't exactly pals. Something about that girl just...rubs me the wrong way. I used to know a girl like her once, and I can't forget how wrong that went."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "She's as nice as she can fuckin' be. What could possible rub you the wrong way?"
He laughs. "That's the problem. She's too damn nice. Too understanding. Feels like...if you let her, she'd just crawl right up in side you and spit shine every part of you, til you glowed from the inside out. She gives me the heebie-jeebies."
"What?" I laugh. "That's the weirdest fucking thing I've ever heard you say, Bodes. But even weird as it is, it's not nearly as bad as what a succubus does. They eat your soul..."
He grunts. "I'm a sucker for pain, I guess."
"Too bad. Marley could use a confidence rebound," I tell him. "Her last boyfriend cheated on her. And the one before that, I think he's in jail or something. Like, for life. She doesn't talk about him much but something she said once made me think...he's real bad news."
Bodie just stares at me. So long, I almost pass out. He punches me, and I rouse. "You're fucking with me."
I shake my head. "Naw, I'm serious, but I probably shouldn't have told you that, so don't say anything to her."
"God.Dayum." Bodie swallows down his drink and pours another. "What was the guy's name, anyway? The boyfriend that went to jail? "
"Hellifiknow." I squint at him. "You thinking of being her confidence boost?"
"Naw, I told you. Something about her...bugs me. Besides, she'd never get over me. " His teeth are a blurry white as he grins his biggest grin.
"You right," I agree. "Dr. Call-Me-Kade, then. Let's hook 'em up."
The blurry blinding white disappears. "For real?"
"Yeah."
"I don't see it, but whatever, man."
"Fuck, I've got to get to bed."
"No you don't!" a high pitched voice squeals from the foyer, and I clutch Bodie's shirt in fear, while I blink at the girl in the doorway. I relax my grip, "Jesus, fuck. Thought you were Arabella," I grumble at Row as the pink, green and purple haired girls stumble in behind her, putting her into context.
"If you ever confuse me with that skank again, dear Adam, I will grab you by the balls, twist and pull," Row says cheerfully as she strides over and pulls at my arm, trying to haul me to my feet. Sadie joins her, attaching herself to my other arm.
"Easy. That skank is my fake-girlfriend," Bodie growls at her. Chili and Harper are pulling at Bodie.
"Come on, guys. We were all just saying how we are missing the whole college experience. We need a couple of frat boys like you to give us a crash course in college life. Beer pong and suck and blow on the back deck. Now."
"Listen to me carefully, Demon del Marco," I say as I show her my wedding band. "Fuck. No. To. Suck. And. Blow." But they have me on my feet, and Bodie, too.
"Okay, okay. No suck and blow for the poor married bastard. But Trace says you are the Beer Pong Master. I want to learn from the best."
It is true. Nobody beats me. But even drunk as I am, I know Row is full of shit. If she wants to play me at Beer Pong, she must be a legend in her own circle. I really don't have time for this, though. As they push me out the door, I look at Bodie. "Help me. I want my bed. And my wife."
"Naw, man. You need this. Besides, you go up to bed reeking of liquor right now, it will just wake Mac up and piss her off. We're drinking on through, remember? Then you shower in my room, down a few waters, hit the espresso machine. You'll be tired but it will come off calm and even for Mac, right?"
"I feel like this is a bad plan, man," I grumble, as Chili and Sadie set up the cups and pour beers with the attention of chess grandmasters.
"It'll be fine," Bodie says.
"Famous last words," I'm swaying, taking a practice shot. Fuck, I missed. Hell, no. I never miss. Mildly irritated, I grip the table to steady myself and take another shot. Score.
"I'll even let you count that one," Row smiles as she picks up the cup.
"Fine, you're on. One game, then I'm going to bed."
"No, you're not," they all say, in unison.
Or at least, it sounded like that to me. But what the fuck do I know? I'm wasted.
Wow, there's so much going on in Adam's head. No wonder he had to drown the noise. Thoughts?