Zeke
I got home from Minneapolis late but couldn’t sleep. The last five days had changed almost everything I thought I knew about myself. Jeremy had become an integral part of my life, and leaving had been torture. Being there and seeing how much Presley hated me had been hard too. I’d had no idea how much our night together had impacted her life, and there had to be a way to show her I never would have left her to deal with it on her own. Yes, I’d been pissed when I heard her on the phone that morning, but I wasn’t such a heartless ass that I would’ve gotten a young woman fired.
A good journalist did what she had to do to get a story, and while in retrospect it turned out that hadn’t been the case, she still had to eat. I’d known about Aunt Meg and her MS, so as angry as I was, I wouldn’t have said anything to management. And I sure as fuck wouldn’t have let her struggle while pregnant with my kid.
That was Aurora’s fault, and I got pissed off at her all over again. Of course, being mad wouldn’t fix anything. I had to man the fuck up and make things right with Presley.
I just didn’t know how I would do that from a couple of thousand miles away.
Somehow, I had to convince her to come to California.
And I needed help to do it.
I poured a couple of fingers of scotch and let the liquid burn its way down my throat. Then I sank into a chair and moodily stared at the now dark gas fireplace.
My mother had turned this empty room in my house into a library, with walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a gorgeous fireplace built into the wall, and pricey lighting. There were Persian rugs and expensive but comfortable seating, and it had turned into my favorite room in the house. I’d given her shit about it at the time, but now I really liked it in here. I liked writing music when I was here too, and I was suddenly inspired.
I dug around in a cabinet by the wall until I found a yellow pad and a pen and started to scribble lyrics that had been nagging me for days.
Innocent love
Innocent soul.
Innocent heart.
That was the one.
Hard to damage.
Damaging.
Damaging touch.
There it was.
Innocent heart, damaging touch, I need to hold you…
Oh, hell.
This was going to be about my sunshine. The Sunny I’d spent the night with, not the furious Presley who hated my guts. Every word pouring out of me was for her. That sweet, innocent girl whose life I’d made a mess of.
For the next forty minutes or so, I drank scotch and wrote a song, scribbling the lyrics faster than I could stop them. I wished I had my guitar, but I was too lazy to go get one. Besides, I didn’t want to make noise because everyone was asleep.
I wasn’t sure if this would be a ballad or something faster, but a melody was taking root in my brain as well, and I itched to call Carter. Back when we were getting started, he and I wrote together like this all the time. Not so much anymore.
Innocent heart
Damaging touch
I need to hold you
Too damn much
You’re not the one
Who stole my heart
But something’s been there
Right from the start.
Take me home, all the way
Take me hard, let me stay
I feel your need, deep inside
Show me, baby, you can’t hide
You can’t hide, not from me
Even when I’m in misery.
You can’t hide, I’m here to stay
Don’t push me, baby, we’re not going away.
“Zeke?” My mother’s soft voice startled me, and I dropped my pen.
“Hey, Ma. Did I wake you?”
“I heard the garage door open and close, but then I didn’t hear you go upstairs. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She came toward me in a light blue satin robe, her dark hair piled up in a messy bun. She somehow looked younger, softer like this, and I was suddenly exhausted.
Fighting with her, with Presley, with my band was starting to catch up to me. I needed some relief in just one aspect of my life.
“What’s wrong, Zeke?” she asked, sitting in the chair next to mine.
“So many things, Ma. So many fucking things.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Probably.” I got up to refill my drink. “Want some brandy?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I poured myself another generous serving and then a couple of fingers of brandy for her.
“What’s going on?”
I dug my phone out of my pocket and pulled up one of the zillion pictures I now had of Jeremy. The one I wanted was of the two of us, very clearly showing the matching colors of our eyes. I stared at it for a moment, unable to hide my smile, and then handed her the phone.
Her sharp intake of breath told me she knew exactly who he was to me, and she brought a hand to her chest.
“Zeke? Who is this? Where is he? It’s a he, yes?”
“Yes. His name is Jeremy William Zerkesian. He lives with his mother in Minneapolis.”
“I don’t…” Her eyes snapped to mine. “Why wouldn’t you tell us? Even with the way things have been between the two of us, this is my grandson!”
“Believe me, Ma, I didn’t hide him on purpose. I only just found out about him. That’s where I’ve been the last week or so.”
“His mother hid him from you?” she demanded incredulously.
“No. She tried to get ahold of me, but Aurora…” I took a breath and told her the whole sordid story, not leaving out anything.
“I never liked her,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I warned you she was using you. Aurora has never had the band’s best interests at heart, only her own. And certainly not yours individually.”
“It was just sex between us, Ma.”
“Was it that good?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Couldn’t you find good sex with someone who wasn’t out to hurt you?”
“Well, let’s not exaggerate. She’s not out to hurt me. She just has her own agenda, which is making sure the band continues to make a lot of money so her fifteen percent adds up.”
She scoffed. “Ridiculous. You should fire her.”
“I tried. Band wasn’t on board.”
“I’m going to have a talk with Carter,” she muttered.
“Ma, Aurora isn’t the point here.”
“Of course not. This young woman, Presley. What is she like? Is she pretty? Do you like her?”
“I do. More than I wanted to admit, even to myself. But she fuckin’ hates me now.” I took another long drink before finding some pictures of Presley to show her.
“You have to bring them here!” she said abruptly, after scrolling through them. “I have to meet my grandson.”
Leave it to my mother to make it all about her.
“I tried. She wants nothing to do with me other than money. And I don’t mean that the way it sounds. It’s not like she asked for anything beyond some things for the baby, and to pay the hospital bill. She’s not trying to keep him from me either, but she refuses to come here or spend time with me. I didn’t even see her this morning. She stayed in her room until I left.”
“So she still has feelings for you,” my mother mused.
I snorted. “Yeah. Feelings of hate. Distrust. Anger.”
She laughed. “All the women you’ve been with, and you still don’t really know anything about them outside of the bedroom.”
“What does that mean?”
“If she truly hated you, it wouldn’t bother her to be around you at all. She would be worried about her child, anxious to make sure he was okay around this person she didn’t like and would most likely be doing everything in her power to make you want to leave. Instead, she hid. The only reason she would do that is because she has feelings she’d been trying to conceal.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.
“Her aunt was with us, so she knew Jeremy was safe, even though I don’t think she’s worried about me hurting him.” I paused. “At least, I hope not.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. She’s also embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” She cocked her head. “About what?”
“The fact that she was nothing but a one-night stand. She said something about how humiliating it would be to meet you, knowing that you know the details of how she got pregnant.”
“I wouldn’t say I know the details,” Mom said. “But that’s silly. You had sex. Big deal. Everyone is having sex these days. And why wouldn’t she want to spend time with my famous, handsome son?”
“Because of me, she didn’t graduate,” I muttered. “Fuck. I don’t know what to do or how to get her to forgive me.”
“Interesting feeling now that the shoe is on the other foot, eh?” Her eyes met mine.
“Ma, this isn’t about us. I have bigger problems right now.”
“I know. But it doesn’t change reality.”
“You want me to say I forgive you? Fine. I forgive you for spending my money like it was your own and making me feel bad in my own house. Happy?”
She pursed her lips. “This is definitely not the time for this conversation.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Well, as for Presley, it’s going to take time and patience. And probably a lot of money.”
“I don’t give a damn about the money. She can have anything she wants.” Words like that had never come out of my mouth before and my mother didn’t miss a thing.
“Oh, I see. Now you don’t care about money, but when I spend it, you’re worried about going broke.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this now?”
“Well, maybe we have to.”
“Mom, this is my child we’re talking about. My son. Whose mother and great-aunt have been skipping meals to make sure he has what he needs.”
She had the grace to look ashamed. “Oh, Christ. I had no idea it was that bad, Zeke.”
“Hence why I said I don’t care about the money. I just want them to be okay.”
“Ah. So you care about her, not just the baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “Duh. She’s my kid’s mother.”
“That’s all?”
I hadn’t blushed in probably twenty years, but I was almost positive I was blushing now. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Well, that’s my answer.”
“Don’t, Ma.”
“Must be hard, realizing for the first time in your life you actually have to work for something.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about? You think making Onyx Knight the biggest band in the world was easy?”
She shrugged. “A little. Sure, you had to play and tour and write and practice, but at the end of the day? Easy. Your first album took off. Your first tour was a success. Radio stations and music journalists loved you. You guys didn’t spend a decade struggling before you had your first hit. It all happened quick. Now you’ll have to work harder than you ever have in your life if you want Presley and Jeremy to be a part of it. Are you up for it?”
I stared at her. “I don’t think I have a choice. I already love my son and want to be with him night and day.”
“And his mother?”
“We spent one night together. I like her. I want to make this up to her. But I don’t really know her.”
“Well, at least now you know what the first step is.”
I frowned. “I do?”
She shook her head. “Yes, my love. The first step is getting to know her.”
“How can I do that if I’m here and she’s there? And I can’t go there because we go back in the studio tomorrow. I could delay it a day or two, a week, but beyond that, I have to be here.”
“Okay, then I amend my statement. Your first step is convincing her to come to L.A. for a visit.”
Great.
The first step was the one that seemed insurmountable.
How the hell could I convince Presley of anything, much less to come for a visit?