Saint Jude: Los Angeles Bad Boys (13 page)

I push back. “My name is on her birth certificate. As far she knows, as far as the law knows, she’s mine.”

“Is that enough for you?”

I blink back tears, scared Rachel’s going to try to pull Etta away from me right here, right now.

“Etta is more than enough.”

Rachel shakes her head, as if she’s disappointed that I’m not giving her a fight, that I’m not yelling or shouting or storming away.

My honesty seems to give her space to let go of some of the things she’s been withholding.

“I’m getting my shit together,” she says. “I have a place here in LA that I might rent. I have a few jobs that might come together. I’m hoping I get a spot in the new Calvin Klein campaign. And that means I’m going to be coming back. For good. For Etta.”

“You can’t just take her from me. I’m her father.”

“You don’t have any rights here, Jude. I can run a paternity test.”

“Why would you do that?” I ask. “Why would you put Etta through that?”

“Because I’m her mother. And I just need a chance to get my shit together, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Ready for what? Raising a child isn’t something you can do on the side. It’s a day-in, day-out job. Is that something you even want?”

She doesn’t answer, and I know the answer is
no
. Rachel never wanted to be a mother, and that hasn’t changed with the birth of her daughter. This is more than she bargained for.

But Etta is everything I never knew I wanted.

I don’t trust myself right now. I swear to God I’m going to lose it. “You need to leave, Rachel. Now.”

“I’m coming back for her.” Rachel walks to the door and swings it open.

“Why?” I demand. “Why are you coming back?”

“Because she’s all I have, Jude. You know how fucked up my life was. I want to do something right.”

I feel for her, I do. Rachel’s mom is an addict, and Rachel has fought for everything she has. But somewhere along the line, I swear she gave up.

“It’s too much to put on a baby, Rachel—to think that she’s going to save you.”

“She’s all I have,” she says again. “I don’t have any other choice.”

She leaves without kissing Etta good-bye. She drives away, and I think how wrong she is.

We always have a choice.

M
y mind is made up
. I’m going to get my act together. I’m going to be a better person, not a lost cause.

I start by calling a last-minute family meeting. Mom, Holden, and Bexley are invited to the patio where I have a veggie tray and sparkling water waiting for them.

“I got snacks you’d eat, Holden,” I tell him.

“Wow, look at you, so thoughtful,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I take it in stride. Bexley gives me a hug, and I try not to compare myself to her effortlessly perfect wardrobe, impeccable red lips and flawless hair swept into a perfect bun, not a single strand loose.

I managed the carrots sticks, but looking down at myself, I realize I scrimped on using my time to make myself look like a grown-up. Once again I’m rocking cut-offs and a tank top, flip flops, and my unbrushed hair in a loose braid.

I take a deep breath, not wanting to be rattled.

Of course, that’s when Mom arrives.

With a date.

“Hey, Mr. Kendrick,” Holden says shaking his hand.

Mr. Kendrick? Evangeline’s father?

What the hell?

“What’s going on?” I ask, no longer insecure about my clothes.

“Hey, baby,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. “Sorry about this, but I just got the message about your … umm, impromptu meeting, and I was already out with Marshall.”

“Um. Hello?” I raise my eyes, looking at him. “Are you guys like, together?

Mom smiles, and Marshall’s arm reaches around her shoulders. Oh, my God. They are.

“Well,” I say, biting back any words that might be unnecessarily sharp. “This is unexpected.”

Mom never dates. Well, I take that back—when I left for college, she told me she started an online dating profile, and I know she moved to LA hoping to meet someone. But this is not what I expected.

“We met at Holden and Bexley’s Oscar nomination party. Remember, he was there with Cassius and Evangeline?”

“I remember.” I smile tightly and watch as he shakes Bexley’s hand warmly, then stands on the perimeter of the tight circle I’ve created for my meeting.

“Trish,” Marshall says. “I’m going to give your family some privacy. Could you call me when you’re ready for me to get you?”

“Okay, Marshall,” Mom says, patting his arm. “Thanks for understanding.”

After Marshall leans down and kisses Mom good-bye on the cheek, Holden and I share a look, the kind we would have shared when we were kids. Like, we know the special kind of crazy our mom is. Claw-your-face-off protective, loyal, and worth her weight in gold. Marshall must be okay if Mom is bringing him here.

He leaves, and then all eyes are on me. Right. I called this meeting.

“So,” I begin. “I wanted everyone to come over so I could apologize. Mostly for not being honest about Yuri, and causing so much trouble because I hid that from you.”

Mom immediately reaches for my hand. “We love you, and hate that you felt like you had to hide that from us.”

“I appreciate it—but, like, I’m not looking for sympathy. For the longest time I’ve felt like I was in Holden’s shadow. And the last thing I wanted to do was let everyone know that not only had I flunked out of college, but I also had a creepy boyfriend who liked to threaten me. Not exactly news you write home about.”

“But we’re your family, Cat,” Holden says. “If not us, who?”

“Well, for the past six months, clearly my only outlet has been Netflix marathons.”

“What do you want to do about that?” Bexley asks.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know exactly.”

I see a collective sigh of disappointment wash over Mom, Holden, and Bex.

“Wait,” I say. “Hear me out. I don’t know exactly, but … okay, and I know this is the part that is going to fire everyone all up, but I want to see where Jude fits into my life.”

“Seriously?” Holden shakes his head. “That is such a bad idea. You’ve been hanging out with him for a few weeks, while you’re both on the rebound, and now you’re gonna make life plans with the dude? That’s so fucked up, Cat.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why is it so effed up? I mean, I know his life is complicated—”

“That’s not why it’s bad Of course he has stuff with Rachel to work out, but it’s a bad idea because I can see it all play out. You’ll just move in there and be his … what? His nanny? His glorified girlfriend? Jude doesn’t say no to people. You’re totally floundering and that’s Jude’s bread and butter.”

I raise my eyebrows, shocked at his critique. “You’re kind of a crappy friend, Holden, to be throwing Jude under the bus like this.”

“It’s the truth. Look, I love the guy. But I also love you,” Holden says. “I just think hooking up with him before you know yourself is a terrible idea.”

I look at Mom for her input, but her eyes are on her lap, her lips tight.

“Say something, Mom. What are you thinking?”

“I think you always do exactly what you want.”

“I called this meeting because I wanted to hear from the people I love most.”

“I don’t want to say my piece and shut you out, Catalina,” Mom says.

“Well, that answers that.” I stand from my chair, frustrated that they aren’t even giving me a chance.

“Catalina, could you sit back down for a second?” Mom surprises me, and I do as she asks. “Have you thought about what you want out of all of this? Of, say, being with Jude?”

I swallow, determined to be honest. “I want to be happy.”

“Anything else?” she asks. “Do you have any other ambition?”

“No.” And I don’t. I never really have. And it isn’t because I’m a loser or suck at everything. It’s just that fighting to be my own person is hard enough. “What I really want is a partner, so that life isn’t so hard anymore. A person who wants to share in the simple parts of life with me. Be by my side.”

I want to love and be loved and I don’t want some fancy career or some lucrative position.

I want to smile.

I want to walk across Ireland and learn to drink whiskey well.

I don’t want the whole wide world. I just want to enjoy my slice of it.

But the people I’m around right now—like Bexley and Holden—they’re world class. Even Cassius and Evangeline and Jude. They’re bigger than life.

They came to LA and owned this city, and I’ve been here six months and haven’t left the guesthouse.

“Mom, does that make sense?” I ask, reaching for her hand, thinking maybe she’s the one person sitting here who might understand. Understand me.

“I understand what you’re saying … but it’s a risky choice.” There are tears in her eyes, and she wipes them away so fast it’s like she’s ashamed of them. “I thought, when I had you and Holden, that I had that kind of love … and I thought it would be enough. But you know how that ended. Your father left and never returned. And it left me broken for a really long time.”

Now I’m crying, too, and my tears streak my cheeks because the truth of it hits me so hard.

“Oh, Mom,” I say, pulling her into a hug. Holden stands and reaches around our mom, too.

After we hug it out for a second, we wipe our faces and sit down, slightly dazed by the intimacy of her words.

“I don’t want to watch my little girl get wrecked.”

“Were you wrecked, Mom? Are you ruined? Would you do it differently if you could?”

A tiny laugh escapes Mom’s mouth. She shakes her head, her eyes bright with fresh tears.

“No. I wouldn’t have changed it. Because that mess gave me you two. And you’ve both been my life.”

I nod, hearing her. Seeing her. Knowing that in my heart, I need to see if there’s still a chance with the only man I’ve been able to think about for the last few weeks.

“Then, Mom,” I say, “let me make my own mess with Jude. Our own lovely mess.”

A
fter Rachel leaves
, I’m wrecked and ruined. Raw.

I need to get fucking lit.

But I know I need to be a responsible adult. A father.

I call Evangeline, because over the course of a month she’s offered a thousand times to help.

“Can you watch Etta tonight?” I ask.

“Everything okay, Jude?”

I laugh under my breath. “I sound that bad?”

“No,” she says softly. “You just never, ever ask for help.”

“I’m a mess, Evie,” I admit.

“It’s okay Jude.”

“It’s not. Rachel came by. It was bad,” I tell her, knowing if I stay on the line for another minute my voice will crack.

“Cash and I will be there in half an hour. And let us keep her for the night.”

* * *

I
think
they must have understood my intentions for the night—mostly because Cassius hands me a bottle of forty-year aged bourbon when he walks in the door.

I’m grateful they don’t stay to ask details. Instead I help them get all of Etta’s gear loaded up, give them instructions, walk them through her sleep schedule.

“We got this,” Cassius tells me, clapping my back. “It’s going to be okay.”

I tighten my jaw, nodding my head. Not believing his words, but also not believing in much of anything.

After they leave, I pour myself a solid three inches of the bourbon, and head out to my back porch. The night is still early—it’s just after seven PM—and I look up at the sky, wishing it were dark, wishing I could see the stars. They would remind me that my existence in the universe is so small, give me perspective on what really matters … and what doesn’t.

I take another sip of the bourbon, the burn of it rolling down my throat, and close my eyes, fighting back the emotions rising to the surface.

I’ve feared that I wasn’t Etta’s father. I can add up dates and weeks as well as a doctor. But I also knew that if I confronted Rachel about my apprehension, she would have left. And the last thing I wanted was for a pregnant Rachel to be roaming Los Angeles without a home, without a job, without anyone.

I know some people don’t understand a woman like Rachel. They think she’s selfish, a cheat, a liar. They see her and believe that’s the sum of her. But I know that isn’t Rachel in her entirety.

Yes, she is those things. But she’s also broken. Part of me can relate to that. I understand those parts of Rachel because I’m broken, too.

I pour more bourbon, drink it. Pour another. My eyes are red, and the sky is a faded blue. My future? It feels so damn dark.

Rachel’s threats cut me.

I don’t know what I’ll do without Etta.

I finish another tumbler of the bourbon and set the glass on table. I run my hands over my face, trying to get a grip on myself, on reality, on the situation.

I hear someone walking around the side of my house, and my first thought is that it’s Rachel, back for Etta.

Thank God it’s the exact person I want to see: Catalina.

“You didn’t answer your door,” she says. “But I saw your car out front, and after knocking for a while I figured you either fell asleep or … didn’t want to see me.”

“Yet you still came around to find me,” I say, standing. I want to wrap my arms around her, pull her into a hug, not let go. She’s the one who said she wanted space, not me. I wouldn’t have left her if she’d told me I could stay.

“Yeah, I guess I’m not very good with boundaries.” She laughs lightly. Once again I’m reminded of how damn beautiful this woman is. Her lean legs, long and bare in her tiny cut-off shorts, her tits so perky in her flimsy tank. Her hair long around her shoulders, and her eyes so bright. So alive. So hopeful.

“So did you come back to tell me you’re leaving for good or that you want to stay?” I ask.

For a moment, I wonder if my words are slurred. Too strong. My eyes roam to the half-empty bottle and the empty glass on the table. Catalina’s eyes seem to follow mine.

“Had enough to drink?” she asks.

“Not for the kind of day I’ve had.” I shake my head, worn out.

“Want to tell me about it?” She walks over to me and laces her fingers through mine effortlessly, pulling me back to the loveseat on the patio as if this is the way we spend every night. Together.

“Rachel came back.”

Cat’s eyes look around the patio, narrowing in. “Did she take Etta?” Her voice is ragged, as if the idea of Rachel really coming back for her daughter scares her.

“No, but she said she’s coming back for her. I’m going to lose my girl.”

“She can’t just take your daughter. You can get a lawyer, make a case. Even if she does want Etta part-time, you can make a custody agreement. You’re not losing Etta. You’re not losing anything.”

I shake my head. My chest is tight, thinking about Rachel taking Etta from me.

“I’m not her father. I always wondered, but never wanted to believe it. You know that
out of sight, out of mind
mentality? It doesn’t work that well. Obviously there were a lot of reasons to doubt that I was really Etta’s dad—but, damn, Rachel knows how much I love that girl. How I’d do anything for her. She says that if I try to pull anything, she’ll have a paternity test, and then I’ll have no rights.”

“Oh, God,” Catalina says, raising her hand to her mouth, covering it in disbelief. “That’s so fucked up. Do you think Rachel would really have the balls to do that? Or the desire? Like, does she even really want to be a mother?” She blinks, biting her bottom lip. “Sorry if that was out of line to ask—but Jude, this can’t be happening.”

She reaches for my hand again, her face covered in worry.

“I don’t know what to do. Evangeline took Etta tonight, because I just wanted—needed—to get fucking smashed. I want to forget, because I can’t imagine waking up tomorrow with the threat of Rachel coming back for her.

I pour more bourbon and offer Cat the glass, but she waves it off. “One of us should stay sober tonight, in case something happens with Etta.”

“Does that make me a shitty dad? Getting drunk?”

“That means you care. Care so much you can’t face the facts.”

“I never thought about being a father.” I run a hand through my hair. “I mean, before Rachel showed up saying she was pregnant, I never really considered the next part of my life. You know … getting married, settling down, having a baby or two. I spent the last decade figuring out my career. But the moment she told me she was having a baby—
our baby
—everything made sense.

“I know people don’t understand Rachel’s and my relationship, and I know people assume the worst with Rachel. And yeah, she’s a train wreck, but I always saw something in her. And I think she saw something in me. Deep down, she knew I would be a good dad; that’s why she decided to stay. She knew I’d always be here for her little girl. Even if she wasn’t my little girl at all. And, damn it, Catalina, if I lose the one thing that gives life meaning, I don’t know how I’ll bear it.”

I’m in tears now, a motherfucking man sobbing on his back porch, with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen sitting beside me, watching me with tears in her own eyes because the reality is just too damn bleak.

The sky is dark now, the stars are out. The black sky I was hoping for earlier—when I was looking for a sense of wonder, awe, the reminder of how big and beautiful the world is—can fuck off.

Right now, the world doesn’t feel very beautiful.

Right now it’s a giant cluster fuck. And I’m in the middle of it.

And I’m going to lose it all.

I thought I had everything, but I’ve got nothing.

Etta is my everything.

“Jude, Rachel isn’t going to take her. You’re right; she does know that you’re a good dad. It’s going to be okay.”

“I wish I could believe that’s true, but Rachel isn’t thinking with her brains. Fuck, she’s not even thinking with her heart. I don’t think she’s thinking at all. And that’s what’s scary. That’s when people do stupid shit. Like Yuri the other night, not thinking when he came after you, came after Holden. He lost all sense of self. He went over the edge, and he was going to take anybody with him. Now that fucker’s in jail.”

“Rachel’s not going to jail,” Cat says.

“I know she’s not, but for some reason I feel like I’m the one who’s been put in a cell and someone tossed the key. I’m behind bars.”

“Let me find the key,” Catalina whispers. “Let me unlock the door.”

My head falls back, and I wipe the tears from my eyes. My vision is blurred, but somehow I see Catalina so clearly.