He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Suddenly, there are three loud bangs on the bedroom door. I walk over and open it to find Dean. “Jen.” He walks toward me with sympathetic eyes. “I can’t find Heidi, but when I do her ass will be gone.” He wraps me in an unexpected hug. “I can’t believe she violated your privacy like that. I’m so sorry. How are you feeling?”

He sways a little, so I know he’s still buzzed. “I feel fine. Why?”

“Is that Dean?” Latson asks through the phone.

“Yes,” I respond.

“Because you’re pregnant.” Dean steps back and holds me at arm’s length. Then, he smiles. “I’m going to be an uncle again.”

Oh boy. “No,” I shake my head, “you’re not. The test isn’t mine. Heidi’s confused.”

Now Dean looks confused. “But …”

“Let me talk to him,” Latson says.

I hand Dean the phone. “Your brother would like to speak to you.”

While Dean talks to Latson, I plop down on the bed. How did this night get so out of control?  First Ariel, then Heidi. Now Latson and I are snapping at each other, and Dean thinks he’s going to get a new family member. I’ll take a do-over for $1,000 please, Alex.

“Well, yeah. I agree.” Dean paces back and forth. “Do you think I wouldn’t?  Yes, I promise. What?  That’s out of my control.” He stops walking. “What do you mean?  How’s she involved?” His eyes grow wide. “Oh.”

I tap my fingers against my leg and start to wonder how Ariel’s chat with Zach went. She hasn’t come back in tears, so I assume things are going okay.

“Yeah. I’ll call you later. Yes … yeah. Here’s Jen.” Dean hands the phone back to me with a scowl. “I need another drink.”

He really doesn’t, but I don’t say anything. As he leaves I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“I wish I were there,” Latson says, his voice more relaxed.

“Me, too.”

“Heidi should be gone soon. You won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“I’m not worried now. As long as you know everything she says is a lie, I don’t care what she tries to pull.”

“You shouldn’t have to care about her at all.”

I hear something shut. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on O. He’s been faking sleep for Shark Week. I’ve caught him watching recorded episodes twice already. Both times it was after two a.m.”

“It’s summer.” My expression softens. “You should let him watch the sharks.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to deal with his grumpy butt the next morning.”

I look at the clock. I wonder if there are any shark shows on now. “You know I’d be happy to deal with him if I were there. Tell him I’ll try to watch some episodes so we can compare notes. What channel is it on?”

“The Discovery Channel. He’ll like that.”

I look around the room for the television remote and catch the time. I didn’t realize it was so late. “It’s almost three a.m.,” I say. “I’ll let you go so you can get some sleep.”

“Now that I know I’m not going to be a father that should be easy.”

I frown. Is he being sarcastic with me?  “I’m sorry about tonight. Trust me. I’ll always be honest with you.”

“Don’t apologize. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but I still feel bad.” I swing my legs off the bed and sit up. “I’ll call you tomorrow, before we head to the arena.”

“Alright.” He’s silent for a second. “Hey, Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“I …”  He stops. “I want you to know if you were pregnant, we’d make it work. I would respect any decision you made. I wasn’t angry about a baby; I was angry about being the last to know.”

My heart skips a beat. He wouldn’t be upset if I got knocked up?  “I understand. But, just to be on the safe side, I think we should still be careful.” A small laugh escapes me. “I don’t think I’m ready to be a mom.”

His voice is quiet. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d be great.”

He sounds disappointed, but before I can ask why, he says goodbye. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he says. “Sleep tight.”

~~~~

A week later, we’re wrapping up our set in New Orleans.

“Thank you Louisiana!” Dean shouts into the mic.

The fans cheer, putting a grin on my face. The three of us join Dean for our usual wave goodbye, and, out of habit, my eyes dart to the groupie section near the front of the stage. The usual girls are there minus one. True to Latson and Dean’s word, Heidi was kicked off the tour the day after she pulled her little prank.

I didn’t see it go down, but I was told security escorted her out with Roxanne’s help. Apparently Rox freaked when Dean told her Heidi was sneaking around our hotel room. She said if I see Heidi again I’m supposed to report it. So now, every time we play, I look for her. I don’t expect her to show up, but you never know. She could actually pay to attend a concert for once.

As we head off the stage, Dean falls behind Drew and Paul to walk next to me. His eyes dart around before he asks, “Has she said anything?”

He doesn’t have to tell me who “she” is. He’s referring to Ariel. He knows she’s pregnant because Latson told him the night of the text message. She hasn’t made a formal announcement yet, and Dean’s worried about the tour. I don’t blame him. He’s got a lot riding on it.

“Nothing specific,” I say as I stop to get stripped of my gear. “I know she’s made a doctor’s appointment. That’s all.”

Okay, that’s not really all, but Dean could care less about her relationship with Zach. Since our trip to Dallas, Ariel has permanently moved to our bus. She travels with The Union and confides in me.  She told me Zach supports her, but they’re not in love. What happened was a one night stand, a drunken mistake, and Ariel still isn’t sure what she’s going to do. All she has decided on is an appointment when we get to Tampa. She grew up in Florida and has a local doctor there.

“You’d tell me, right?” Dean hands his guitar to a crew member and pulls out his ear piece. “If it’s bad news, I need to know. I hate being blindsided.”

“You and me both,” I say, and it’s the truth.

When I’m free of equipment, I follow the guys out of the backstage area. I don’t know what their plans are, but I want to grab my stuff and head to the hotel. I’m hungry, and a hot shower and room service sounds like perfection. We’re headed down the hallway to our dressing room when a small crowd gathered outside Ariel’s door catches our attention.

“Interesting,” Dean says as we get closer. He cocks a questioning eyebrow, and I shrug. It appears some dancers, along with some arena staff, are anticipating something. We pass the group and I try to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, everyone goes silent as we walk by.

“That was weird,” Drew says when we enter our room.

“Think Ariel’s having a diva moment?” Paul jokes, opening the mini fridge.

I doubt she is. I’ve haven’t seen her be rude or demanding toward anyone. Then again, I’m not around her when she performs.

Grabbing my bag, I open it to find my phone. There’s a message from Latson: How’d it go tonight?

I type back Super fantastic as always and hit send. Then, I hear an unfamiliar voice. “Jen?  Jen Elliott?  Where’s Jen?”

I look up. Ariel’s manager, Mason, looks stressed as he pokes his head into our dressing room. “That’s me,” I say, doubtful. I’ve never talked to him before.

“I need you,” he says and rapidly gestures for me to follow him. “Bring your guitar.”

“My acoustic?”

“Whatever you have. Just move!”

“Go,” Dean says as he picks up my instrument and shoves it into my hands. “This doesn’t sound good.”

Confused, I do as I’m told, pulling the strap over my head as I follow Mason’s tall, lanky frame down the hallway. We speed walk to Ariel’s dressing room.

“I’m here. We’re here. Let me through,” he says as he parts the bodies standing in front of the door. He opens it and ushers me in ahead of him. When I step over the threshold, I look around Ariel’s posh set-up and feel a pang of jealousy. Comfy couches, an adjacent room filled with racks of costumes, a counter filled with catered finger foods, and bottles of champagne complete the area. We’re lucky if we get a bowl of pretzels and an extra folding chair.