Personal journal entry
Monday, April 23rd
BELLS rang in Bobby’s head and his mouth felt like someone had lined it with felt and steel wool. It took all the willpower his body possessed to open his eyes and, as soon as the sunlight streaming through the white curtains hit his pupils, he groaned and wished he hadn’t wasted the energy.
He hadn’t gotten drunk in years. When he went on his first tour, he’d caught himself drinking after the concerts to help wind down, and as soon as he realized what he was doing, he flat out quit. It was during that time that he recommitted himself to following Christ, and to ministry for Him, and never again felt a desire to drink. Until last night.
Last night he felt the pang of guilt and regret with every drink he swallowed, but for some reason just kept on. Now he felt shame. To come here, to his daughter’s home in that state…
He rolled out of the bed and stayed on his knees, burying his face in the mattress. His prayer was almost wordless, wrenched from his gut and coming out in inaudible sounds. He begged for forgiveness, for grace, and for wisdom in how to go forward from here.
When he felt spent, he forced himself to stand up, holding onto his head with one hand and the bedpost with the other. Fully dressed except for his boots, he still wore the clothes he’d worn to church the day before. He realized he slept in his clothes for two nights straight now. Rectifying his living arrangements just shot up to near the top of his to-do list, following a handful of aspirin, two tall glasses of water, a cup of coffee, and a shower. Preferably in that order.
The house was quiet as he moved through it and, judging by the brightness of the sunlight penetrating all the way to his brain at every window he passed, it was late morning. That meant Carol and Lisa were already gone. Good. He didn’t want either one of them to see him in this condition. The last two days had been bad enough.
He was a confident person, something that had helped him rise through the ranks in the music business with such ease. He knew what he wanted from life, had succeeded in achieving most of it, and now ran an empire that operated under his name and existed because of his talent with all the skills he learned in college. The last two days had thrown him for a loop and had set him a little off kilter. High time to find his balance again and regain some control over his life.
The time spent on his knees that morning was a good beginning.
He went into Carol’s bathroom and searched her medicine cabinet until he found a nearly empty bottle of aspirin. He dumped what was left in it into his hand, then swallowed them down with water from the faucet. Knowing the drug was in his system and would do some good already made him feel better, so he went down to the kitchen to find the second and third items on his list. Water and coffee.
He pushed open the door to the kitchen. Carol Mabry was a beautiful woman. If he hadn’t already thought that before this moment, the full pot of coffee on the counter would definitely have convinced him. There was even a cup sitting on the counter for him, along with a note telling him where to find the aspirin he’d already swallowed, and where to find clean towels.
Bobby opened a few cupboard doors until he found drinking glasses and downed two tall glasses of water before he poured his first cup of coffee. He drank his second cup of the life saving brew while standing under a massaging shower head in the guest bathroom that delivered a steady stream of steaming hot water. It seemed to further ease the ache in his head.
After his shower, as he dressed, his mind started clicking full force. He remembered his priorities and began to make plans. The first item on his agenda was to buy a house in this very neighborhood. He would prefer it to be on this street, but he would settle for something within a one-block radius. The house itself didn’t matter as much as the location. He’d tear down what was there and build a new one if he had to.
This morning he had to find a hotel room so he had a place to stay while he searched for a house, and he needed to call his offices in Nashville and get his secretary and accountant working on a few things. He also needed to brief his attorney. Then there was the matter of what to say to the press once word got out.
Because word would get out. It always did.
He’d caught more than a few smart phones in the hands of teenage girls at church yesterday, cameras quite obviously pointed in his direction. If there wasn’t already buzz, it would start happening very soon. The paparazzo were going to have a field day over Bobby Kent’s long-lost love child. As chilling as that thought was, he knew he needed to make sure everyone was prepared for that, too.
He left the house, turning in the direction of the park where he’d left his rental car. As he walked down the driveway, he saw an elderly man watering a flower bed next door. The man nodded to him and stuck an unlit pipe in his mouth, and Bobby decided to amble on over to speak with the man. He would know about any houses for sale in the area.
“Howdy,” he greeted.
The old man nodded, removed his pipe and asked, “Howdy yourself. Anyone ever tell you you are the spittin’ image of that singer, Bobby Kent?”
Wearing his best album cover smile, Bobby nodded and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “My parents do all the time.”
RHONDA knocked once on Carol’s door, opened it, and stuck her head through. “Carol, are you free after lunch today?”
Carol nodded and saved the work on her computer. “I am now. Just got word the jury’s on their way back in on the Latsbaugh trial.”
Rhonda carefully wedged herself all the way inside carrying a stack of poster-sized white foam boards with pictures of a gruesome drug related slaying printed on them. “Timothy asked me to bring these to you. Where do you want them?”
Carol’s small office housed her desk and two credenzas full of books. Along various portions of the wall and credenza space, she stored the photo boards she used for presentations in court. She walked toward Rhonda and held out her hands. “I’ll take them. Thanks.” She found the appropriate stack and set them against it.
From under the window, she grabbed up her briefcase and purse and started walking around her desk. Rhonda said, “I’ll walk up with you. I have court in ten.”
The two walked along the corridor, offices on one side, a sea of cubicles manned by paralegals and clerks on the other. “Did you get the exhibits finished on the Kennedy case?” Carol asked.
Rhonda stuck a strand of black hair back into the bun at the base of her neck and pushed her black framed glasses further up her nose. She looked at her watch as they left the office of the Commonwealth Attorney and entered the lobby of the building. While they waited for the elevator, the two attorneys watched in apathy as a woman with a really bad dye job over by the metal detectors at the entrance to the building argued with the security guard about some contraband item in her purse.
“Timothy printed some pictures for me today. I’ll finish getting the exhibits ready this evening.”
“As complicated as this case looks on the outside, I think in the end, it’s going to be cut and dry.” Most of the time, attorneys tried cases alone. Whenever big cases came, they would pair up so there would be help in the courtroom to ensure a conviction.
They stepped into the elevator. Carol looked at their reflections and noticed how different they looked. Rhonda, medium height with a dancer’s body in her perpetual black and gray, and Carol, tall, red-haired, in a light green pantsuit and bright gold jewelry.
Rhonda’s lips thinned. “I hope it’s cut and dry. I’d hate to see defense pull some magic rabbit out of a hat.”
“Nothing to pull. You and I both know how solid this case is.”
Rhonda nodded as they stepped off the elevator onto the third floor and looked up at the big monitor that displayed the day’s docket. It always reminded Carol of an airport flight status monitor. Rhonda glanced at her phone and fielded an incoming text. Almost absently, she said to Carol, “Let me know where you want to eat lunch.”