“Fuck, woman, you’re still bleeding?”
“Yeah, it’s really heavy. I may have to go back to my doctor. She said going back on the pill would regulate my periods again, but it’s not working.”
“I don’t want to talk about this shit. Christ, what you got between your legs isn’t good enough for this shit. Get your ass in the kitchen and fix me dinner. Do you think you can manage that, Callie?”
“Okay, Mitch, I’m sorry.” I murmur, my palms sweaty and my heart rate so high that I can feel my pulse pounding even in the tips of my fingers.
“Just shut up and get dinner fixed. Jesus, you’re pathetic.”
I walk to the kitchen quickly. Thinking that he is right. Even knowing that his screaming and calling me names is just another form of proving that I’m weaker than him, his words still hurt.
Maybe because I do feel pathetic…
CHAPTER 19
Reed
TWO MONTHS LATER
I need you to call me as soon as you get this.
“You okay, Reed?”
“Huh?” I ask, unable to look away from the text I just received.
“I asked if you were okay? I’ve seen a lot of reactions when I’ve told people their new song will be going into radio rotation, and they’ll start a station tour to promote it next week. Never have I seen them stare at their phone and tune me out.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not that. I… uh… got a text from someone I wasn’t expecting,” I flip my phone off. “Sorry, Trisha. You have all my attention.”
I do my best to concentrate on what she says and at least act like I’m present. The truth is that I just got a text from Callie. That’s the last thing I expected. I’m actually surprised she still knows my number.
“Reed, get it together,” Trisha barks, making me shake my head.
“I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Let’s break for five minutes. Get your shit together. You pull this while you’re handling radio interviews and we’re going to have problems.”
She stomps out, slamming the door. I wince. Jesus, I’m on the brink of getting everything I ever wanted as a performer and I’m about to fuck it up… for Callie. I swear, it’s like history repeating itself over and over. I am finally at a point where I feel like I can breathe. Yet, here I am. One text from her and I go in a tailspin. I turn my cell back on. Once it boots up, I go through my contacts and dial Callie’s number.
“Reed—”
“I’m in a meeting, Callie. I don’t have time for more bullshit from Macon. I don’t hear from you in—”
“Reed, there’s been an accident.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t me.”
“Katie?”
“Reed, it’s your dad. He’s in the hospital. It’s…” She clears her throat, making my heart stall in my chest. “It’s not looking good.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling as if I can’t catch my breath.
“They’ve asked us to call the family in. If you want to see him, you need to hurry, Reed.”
I hang up. I don’t even say goodbye. I’m in shock. I lean back in my seat and let Callie’s words settle deep inside of me. I don’t like my father. We’ve barely spoken to one another in a year.
Trisha comes back in, looking at me. I guess something shows on my face because she stops moving.
“Bad news?”
“My father has been in an accident. They’re calling the family in.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Reed.”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“I can try and reschedule things, but I’m going to be honest with you, it’s going to cause some issues,” she says frankly.
I swallow.
“Don’t reschedule. I’ll get the arrangements. I’ll need two days for the funeral and to check on Mom, but I can work around what you have scheduled if I need to. If I can’t go, then I just won’t go.”
“Are you sure? I know it’s your father—”
“That man was never a father. I don’t know how I feel right now, but I don’t want to ruin everything and risk my career. You said it doesn’t start until next week, right?”
“Yeah. You’ll need to be on the tour bus Monday morning.”
“Tour bus?” I ask, surprised as hell.
“Don’t get excited. It’s a piece of shit, but it will get you there. You sure the only band members you want to bring are Greg and Eddie?”
“Honestly, I’d just take Eddie, but Junie asked me to include Greg. I owe her a lot.”
“That will be enough. Really, most of the studios will be small. You might be the only one who can be there while on air. So, you will be playing your guitar solo and singing a lot of the time.”
“Sounds good. I’ll head to Macon tonight. That gives me four days. If he lives and things aren’t settled, or if he dies and the funeral is after that, I just won’t be there. This comes first,” I answer. Maybe that makes me a fucking loser, but I need to think of me. God knows my father thought of himself my whole life.