Sticks (Black Addiction #2) (6 page)

BOOK: Sticks (Black Addiction #2)
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“Also, I am not interested in touching or seeing your cock right now. In fact, I’d go out on a limb here and say my interest is permanently suspended on all things relating to you and sex.” Unless sex was foot massages and bringing me Saltines and ginger ale, I wasn’t interested in
any
man right now.

“And another thing.” He wisely stayed silent while I continued my tirade a little longer. Had to say, at that point I probably would have kept talking regardless. “You can shove me
forgetting things
up your ass, there is nothing wrong with my memory. Baby brain is a fucking myth. I’m not going to suddenly turn stupid because I’m with child.”

Silence.

And had I not heard the breathing on the other side of the line I might have thought he’d hung up.

“Joey?” I asked, wondering if he had zoned or passed out. Either was a possibility and I wasn’t sure which one would make me less angry. Rewinding the conversation wasn’t happening, so I could only hope anything else he said was less crazy than what he’d already treated me to.

“I’m here.” I heard the long exhale like he’d been holding his breath. “Look, I’m not trying to piss you off but I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.”

I wanted to stay angry.

To yell a lot more and maybe throw a few more curse words around. Not because I was upset with him, but because I too had no idea what I was doing. An instruction manual on how to do this didn’t come with my vagina unfortunately, and I was just as clueless as he was. Okay—no one was that clueless—but you get the gist.

As always, there was something about him that threw off my game. Like I couldn’t continue to be angry at him even though it seemed he had a tendency to say something either dumb or offensive when he opened his mouth.

“It’s going to be fine.” Who I was reassuring wasn’t exactly clear, my own need to hear the words just as desperate as his.

“Yeah, it will be,” he answered back, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “Talk to you later, Kenz.”

“Bye, Joe.” And with our see-ya-laters the call ended.

It wasn’t late. The time on my phone display gave me a big middle finger as the numbers lit up. Only nine p.m. but it felt more like two a.m. and I was wiped out. It had been a big weekend, and I still had a few last dying moments left of it. At least none of the next few hours required me to get out of bed.

Beauty Queens from Mars had played their usual gig on Saturday night. I’d confessed my
condition
to Abbey and Becca when, just before we’d gone on stage, I’d had to spend some time praying to the porcelain gods. Their eyebrows rose further in suspicion when I’d passed on the beer after the show, so I figured I’d just come clean. Besides, they were as much family as my brother and sister were. Almost more so. And I wasn’t sure if it was because they both were still buzzing from being on stage, or the few beers had taken them to their happy place, but both were supportive. Not one oh-shit-you-are-so-dumb had been uttered. It remained to be seen whether or not in the clear light of day and sober, if they’d still feel the same way.

Of course being on stage meant my phone had been left unattended for a while, something that wasn’t usually a problem. That was
before
Joey had been informed I was incubating his seed. So when I eventually awoke the magical-rectangle-of-wonder from its silent seclusion it buzzed, vibrated and pinged like a firework on New Year’s Eve.

Joey had texted, called, Facebook messaged, tweeted and then tried to text and call again. I wasn’t sure if I should be calling him back or filing a restraining order. My silent debate on whether or not to call ended when my phone had once again lit up on my way home from the gig.

“Is something on fire because I have like eleven messages from you?” I shoved my guitar and amp in the back seat as I juggled opening the driver’s door while keeping the phone at my ear. It was a complicated dance, my foot able to kick the back door shut before I climbed into the car.

“Hey, do you think we’re having twins? It’s just one baby, right?”

I sunk into the driver’s seat as his speculation gave me another scenario I hadn’t thought of. Awesome. Because having one child of his wasn’t enough.

“I don’t think so.” The thought taunted me as I considered the possibility.

Oh, shit. Could I be having twins?

“Okay, just asking.” The asshole added like it was no big deal, my non-committal answer obviously appeasing him.

“Bye, Joey.”

I didn’t bother explaining the mental minefield he’d just opened up. Or the level of panic he’d thrown me in.

More for my own sake.

I was scared of what other possibility he’d throw into the ring. Triplets? Please God, let there only be one.

“See ya, Kenzie.”

The calls had continued, each time another suggestion of shit that could either go wrong or some other internet half truths he needed to confirm. The finale of course had been the last one where we discussed masturbation and my memory. I was going to have to put my phone on silent. Or smother him. Either would work.

Literally any more
questions
and I was probably going to have a panic attack. Or put into action all the things I’d been thinking about doing to him. None he’d actually enjoy. Mood swings were common in pregnancy apparently.

Ugh.

I was tired.

And moody.

And emotional.

It was all a big ball of suck and I had zero answers. In fact, the only thing that looked remotely appealing was curling up in bed and trying to go to sleep. Because dealing with it hadn’t worked out so well, except to make me panic. Oh, and to make me more tired and irritable.

So rather than fight the inevitable I trudged into my bedroom and collapsed onto my mattress. The weight of my body was accepted by the pillowy feather top as my eyes closed almost instantaneously. My body cocooned in my comforter seemed to know me better than I knew myself as I drifted off to sleep.

My breathing evened out as I allowed the exhaustion to wash over me.

Sleep was exactly what I needed.

It had been two
days since I’d found out.

Or was it three?

Hours had mixed into each other, and to be honest a lot of it was a blur.

Let’s just say it had been a
few
days since I’d found out. Yeah. Let’s go with that.

So, it had been a
few
days and other than Max, I hadn’t filled anyone in on Kenzie’s status. And I wasn’t good with secrets, so the fact I’d been able to keep my mouth shut this long was a miracle. Some sort of prize wasn’t out of the question. Maybe even a medal. I had really impressed myself.

But while I had managed to keep my mouth from moving, my mind had been jacked up to eleven. Every scenario imaginable was downloaded into my memory banks, the thoughts churning constantly. My head felt like it was a crowded room full of E-swallowing ravers. With glow sticks. And the music sucked.

Angie had just done the mom thing, and that shit had been far from easy. Those fucking hormones were vicious; how Jase survived it is still a mystery. I’m not going to lie, she had scared the fuck out of me. Our once-reasonable friend turned into a
Sarah Connor
from Terminator, but without the kickass body. Not that I was bringing that shit up.

So to try and get myself up to speed—and to Google pic some images of Sarah Connor to try and calm me down—I did some searching on the ’Net. I wanted to be prepared and find out as much as I could, but instead of coming away with a crash course on being a dad, my search just suggested a whole heap of shit that could go wrong.

And who else was I going to talk to this shit about?

So I called her.

Just a few calls. More to see if we could work this shit out together. Strength in numbers or something like that.

Possibly
not
my smartest move.

She didn’t sound thrilled.

In fact, I was able to feel the glare of death all the way through the phone, which took some wicked talent. My silent thanks that I decided it was better not to go over and have the conversation face-to-face. Who said there wasn’t a God? That right there was proof he existed.

My internet searches and subsequent calls to Kenzie were not appreciated. See, the fucking Godzilla shit had already started and we were only in the first trimester. We had months before the irritability was supposed to hit—or so said the internet.

And that place was a fucking trap if ever I saw one. Those websites just added more questions rather than give fucking answers. And don’t even get me started on the fucking pictures. Trust me, that shit cannot be unseen. Do not Google
cervical dilation
. Hand-on-heart, you do not want to know.

And another thing. Apparently they didn’t need my baby-making juice to see if the baby was mine. Seemed like the logical way to see if I was the dad was to check my jizz. I was more than happy to give it—because I’m that kind of guy—and what better way than to go straight to the source. Right?

This shit and more was what kept me tossing and turning through the night. Not even watching porn helped; the orgasm empty as I jerked off into my hand. When my lids finally agreed to stay shut it was time to roll out of bed. Absolute bullshit.

***

Thankfully I’d convinced Kenzie to take my car to see her doc. No point in us taking two, seeing as we were going to the same place, and the car she was driving was a piece of shit. Legit. POS. Not that I’d ever tell her that. I liked my balls where they were, thank you very much.

So when I rolled up at her place at some god-awful time of the morning when no person should be awake, I was surprised to find her sitting on her front stoop. Awake and alert and fucking beautiful. Her hair was loose, just the way I liked it and she looked every bit the sex bomb I knew she was. She’d lost the dress she’d been wearing Friday night and instead was wearing the stuff I was used to seeing her in. Tight blue jeans, a pair of chucks and a T-shirt that showed off the curve of her tits. My dick immediately took an interest in what was going on.

“Hey.” She looked up as I pulled up to the curb. “You’re on time.” The look of genuine surprise flooded her eyes as she walked toward the passenger side door.

“Here, let me get that for you.” I hit the door and jumped from the cab before she’d reached for the handle. My hand did the honors as her foot stepped on the side running board. “I told you, I’d be on time.” I waited for her to climb into my truck.

Honestly, her concerns I’d be late were valid; I was not a morning person. I’d had to set ten alarms on my phone and left the bastard in a chair on the opposite side of the room so I wouldn’t be able to silence the thing and go back to sleep. I’ll admit, there were at least two I’d shut off that gave me an extra five minutes. Every little bit counted. The main thing was that my system worked, I was on time and ready to rock despite the fact I was running on vapors. I was going to have to be mainlining caffeine if I even had a hope of getting through the day. The two cups I’d had on the way over, weren’t cutting it.

“You ready?” she asked once I’d climbed back into the truck, her hands knotted in her lap. The on-edge vibe echoed through the interior.

“Yep, I’m ready.” I fucking lied, thinking it was better than telling the truth. I was so
not
ready.

The drive was short with the only noise being the tunes coming out of my stereo speakers. She hadn’t said anything, and every time I’d opened my mouth over the last few days I’d seemed to put my foot in it so I let shit be. So we sat in a weird kind of silence.

Thank fuck we arrived at the doctor’s office before shit got too awkward. My truck pulled up to the address she’d given me as I cracked open my window to get a better view. It didn’t look like much, just a plain building with a tiny door in front. The sign on the lawn the only thing wising me up that it wasn’t someone’s house.

I managed to find a spot on the street to park—which was a miracle in itself—and ejected from the car. Kenzie didn’t give me a chance to get around to her door, her feet hitting the asphalt before I’d made my way to her.

“You good?” I asked, wondering what the hell I was supposed to be doing. Holding her hand? Giving her a hug? Fist bump? The options made my head hurt. I’d never lost my game when it came to a girl, but currently—with her—I was more nervous than when I’d lost my virginity.

“I was a little sick this morning but I’ll be okay.” She yawned as we walked on the sidewalk the short distance to the doctor’s office. It hadn’t been just me who thought the early hour of this appointment was bullshit.

“Sick as in . . .” I waited for her to elaborate.

I’d seen Angie, our singer, blow chunks on more than one occasion. Not on fucking purpose either, but it was hard to miss that shit when you are stuck in a booth recording an album. So as far as the morning sickness thing, I got. It happens, you puke, it’s over.

What I didn’t know was whether
that
was what we were dealing with, or if it was something else. Trust me, I had a list as long as my arm of fucking worst-case scenarios. Most of which made my blood run cold, so I knew enough that “a little sick” could mean major bad news.

“As in I throw up pretty much as soon as my feet hit the floor.” She walked beside me as we made our way to the door. “It’s gross, but considering my last few mornings have been much of the same, I’m expecting it’s nothing to be worried about,” she said with little conviction.

She gave no clue as to whether she was avoiding or she genuinely wasn’t concerned, her tone dialed down and tight. So rather than push the issue, I swallowed any other questions and opened the door, Kenzie giving me a weak smile as she stepped through the doorway.

“This gentleman stuff is really throwing me off.” She played nervously with her bottom lip.

“You and me both,” I admitted, the laugh making its way up my throat even though nothing was really funny. Unless by funny you mean scary as fuck and then it was hilarious. Fuck, I hoped this was over quick.

Either the ridiculous time of day didn’t affect the baby doctor place or Oprah was in there giving away cars because the room was filled to capacity. Patients in various stages of mom-dom were parked, waiting their turn—most of them not looking too happy.

Kenz either completely ignored the fact that BabysRUs had exploded in the room, or she had Jedi-mind tricked herself into a state of Zen, heading straight toward reception. She didn’t even blink, flexing her nerves of fucking steel as she stood there. I’d always known she was one hell of a badass, but this took it to a new level of respect.

That wasn’t the only thing that got my attention as my head did a swivel, my feet still glued to the floor at the entrance. The fact I had a dick put me
well
into the minority.

Seriously, I was out-numbered by like twenty to one—and not in a good way. I had to wonder if the excessive estrogen wasn’t going to mess with my balls, it couldn’t be a good thing and I wasn’t excited at the prospect of finding out.
Hang in there, buddies
, I tried to give my nuts a pep talk. Hoping they could withstand the sonic boom of chick hormones they were experiencing. I was showering straight after this, just to be sure.

There was one other dude in here, and if the look on his face was anything to go by, his stones were already sitting in his Mrs.’ purse. I couldn’t tell if he was freaking scared shitless or broken. He just sat beside his chick—her belly close to popping—with a dead, blank stare.

Jesus Christ.

This was not good.

We’d barely been here five minutes and it felt like Armageddon.

Beads of sweat prickled my neck as I let my hands drop casually in front of my crotch—I figured I’d give the boys a fighting chance and offer them some protection. Next time we came here I was definitely wearing a cup.

Even though my brain really didn’t have its shit together, my feet thankfully did their thing and got walking. The one-foot-in-front-of-the-other took me away from the doorway looking like a douche to where Kenzie was standing at reception.

Her blonde hair covered her face as she leaned over the counter, filling out some kind of forms—completely oblivious to the lack-of-happy happening in the room.

No shit. I didn’t see one person crack a smile, except for the chick sitting behind the desk. And her hair had been pulled so tight she’d have no choice but to give you a cheesy grin. Oh, and she was way too cheery for this time of the morning, so I immediately didn’t trust her.

“We’ll just take a sample after you’re done with the forms.” I caught the tail end of the conversation as freaky-smile-reception-chick put a specimen jar on the desk. “The bathroom is just on the left.”

See!

I freaking knew it.

I had tried to tell Kenzie there was going to be jerking off involved, but noooooo, she laid on the that’s-not-how-they-do-it BS. Vindicated. She might be smarter than I am—but on this, clearly I was right.

Of course, I’d already cleaned the pipes this morning—I’d needed some way to make myself less hostile from the early wake-up—but I didn’t anticipate a problem. Probably just as well too, because the jar they’d provided was tiny. I’d need at least five of them. Maybe even ten. Even now it would be touch-and-go. My load was pretty legendary. Case in point, the baby it had made purely on pre-cum. Fuck, I wonder how strong my swimmers were when I actually came? Medal winning probably. My mouth automatically curled into a proud grin at the thought.

Anyway, I figured I’d save her the
I-told-you-so
I was entitled too. I was a team player and was more than willing to step up to prove it. Besides, I had a job to do, and jerking off was one thing I excelled at.

So, while Kenzie was busy filling out a bunch of paperwork, I figured I’d grab the jar and get started. I mean, there was no time like the present and if we could move this process along a little, it would be better for everyone. She didn’t even look up as I snagged the jar and headed to where the desk chick had motioned where the bathrooms were. You think they could have provided something a little more welcoming. A booth maybe? With some porn. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

With the jar tucked up tight in my mitt, I pushed open the door to the bathroom to find there was only one stall. Thankfully, given there weren’t many people in the room sporting the Y chromosome, I had the place to myself. Even better. While I would have been happy to just take care of business out in the open—like I said, I was a complete team player—I figured I should probably head into the stall anyway, and do it with less chance of an audience.

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