CHAPTER5
NOVA
I retchinto a small trash can next to my little bed in the back of my van, bringing up nothing but misery. The morning sickness has pissed me off more than any other change, not because of the puking but the misnomer. It is not the morning.
There’s all-day barfing for me. When I overeat, when I don’t eat enough, when I move too fast, when I smell cooking meat, or when the wind carries too strong a scent on it. Everything makes me want to puke.
Figgy sits on my pillow, staring down at me with bright green eyes, his tail twitching slightly. I’d love to think he’s concerned about me, but I’m pretty sure his intent is one of selfish gain.
“If I die, your food is there.” I gesture to the little cabinet under the sink.
In response, Figgy drops his nose to my cheek and nuzzles me. I’ve heard that animals can sense these things, and Figaro is the reason I took a pregnancy test in the first place. He was so weird. A couple of days after I left Raston, he became glued to me, always wanting to be on my lap or across my shoulders. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. I’d wake up in the night, and he’d be hovering over me, staring, his little cat nose twitching.
Then, the nausea started. I got suspicious. And then I missed my period.
Too bad Figgy couldn’t have warned me before I walked into that shop and was stunned speechless by the gorgeous mechanic and driven to rebellion by the pressures of my life.
I’ve grown up around famous people. My mother is one of the most successful country music execs in the South. Or she was, I suppose, before the days of streaming sites and YouTube. I’ve been in rooms full of handsome men and beautiful women. People with teams of tailors and makeup artists, always primed and polished to look their best.
But Zeke? His beauty is all-natural, every feature complimenting the next and every flaw put there on purpose to stir up my intrigue. What sets him apart from any attractive celebrity is that he has no idea.
How could a man with a face like that not be aware he was the sexiest thing God ever created?
He was cocky as fuck and acted like my attention didn’t catch him off guard, but it takes one to know one. It was all an act. I knew from the moment I started flirting with him—from that flicker of shock before his smug grin replaced it.
That boy was as lost as I was. That’s why I chose him.
I scratch Figgy’s ears and wait for my stomach to settle. The trees sway in the breeze out the window of my camper van, parked in a tiny RV lot on the edge of the forest.
This kind of stillness is why I came north. But I’m still not used to it. It unnerves me. When I’m threatened with silence, I scroll through my email and pull up the messages.
Subject: in case you were thinking about coming back
The attachment is a still image of me from a video I had no idea was taken. My makeup is smudged and running, there’s a bottle in my hand, and my tit is almost falling out of my bathing suit.
Nausea hits me again, but I choke it down and tap out of my email.
Stop torturing yourself.
My phone rings, and Mom’s name flashes across the screen. She calls almost daily, but I rarely answer. My heart thunders with fear, and the instinct to look around to be sure I’m not being watched prickles along my spine. It’s been weeks since I’ve answered, and the emails have slowed down dramatically. Maybe it’s almost over. Maybe they’ve forgotten me.
“Hey.” The surge of discomfort zips up my spine, and I flatten myself on the bed and look around like there might be cameras hidden somewhere in here. Paranoia isn’t a new concept for me; looking over my shoulder for who might be watching me is something I’ve been doing for years. But the fact that I can’t comfortably talk to my mother turns my stomach and wrenches my heart to the point that I choke on my own hello.
“Hey, Pumpkin. How are you doing on your grand adventure? Have you found yourself yet?” She chuckles like it’s the first time she’s ever said that to me. Both her and my sister treat this whole thing as a joke. Like I’m a silly little girl and not trying desperately to keep them safe.
“Nope, still looking. How’s the merger going?” If I keep the conversation on her, there’s no way I’ll accidentally tell her everything. That I’m the reason Dru’s arm was broken. That I’m the cause of all these troubles.
She sighs deeply, and the answer is clear, even without words. I’ve avoided all social media and news outlets. Even the tabloids that line the grocery checkouts have been banished from my periphery. This means I don’t know what kind of trouble my family has gotten itself into. Or maybe they’re all still focused on me. Hopefully, they’ve forgotten about us altogether. I pray for the day we become old news.
“The board is still fighting over the restructuring. Trying to convince the new staff of this vision is a nightmare. My God, sweetheart, these men are insufferable. Cardale is the worst. I swear he’s on a personal mission to take me down.” She growls at the mention of the powerful man, and the air freezes in my lungs.
I snap up a notebook I keep by the bed and write his name down to remember later. Maybe it’s him. It would make sense. Cardale would have the reach and the power and the complete lack of regard for other people’s lives. He really is the worst kind of man.
“You’ll get it, Mama.” I’m unsure what else to say because my mind is buzzing with possibilities.
She has fought for her position within the country music scene my whole life. All I remember of her from my childhood was pantsuits and her yelling at men on a cell phone. When she wasn’t doing that, she was yelling at my dad to take better care of me.
When the label was sinking, she was the one with the idea to breathe new life into it. Bring the damn thing into the 21stcentury. I helped her start a label streaming service using my connections in the YouTube world, allowing people to pay a subscription to the label and access their music. It injected enough money back into the company to get it running again and well enough to buy out an indie record label.