The Right Direction Read online

  “You have got to be shitting me. Did she agree to this? Does she know everything?” I’m beginning to wonder if there is anyone in this world I can trust. Sneaky fucking bastard found her. I’d like to know how. Last time I checked, she was still living in Chicago. Of course, that was about a month before I met Gwen.

  I didn’t have parents who gave a crap about me. Neither did the woman standing in front of me. We both grew up in the same foster home from ages six to ten. That’s about the time I started getting into trouble. The state sent me to another home across town. I learned my lesson well when I realized I wouldn’t be seeing her as much as I was used to. I was very thankful they kept me in the same school district, though, or I would have gone batshit crazy without having her in my life.

  “I’m standing right here, and she has a name. One you used to know quite well. I know enough about what’s going on to get you out of here. After that, I don’t give a shit what you do, Roman,” she snaps. This is her way of telling me to fuck off. Well, fuck that noise. She’s here, and I’ll be good and damned if I’m letting her slip away from me again. It seems she not only changed her profession, but she’s grown a feisty little backbone as well. I love it on her. I’d like to be on her myself. Preferably with my cock buried between her thighs. I’m going to make that happen sooner rather than later if she isn’t with someone. Not sure why I can sense she’s not. Don’t care. I’m going to have this woman and take back what’s rightfully mine. Her heart. Her body. Her beautiful soul.

  God, I can’t believe she’s here. Joslyn was everything to me back then. All of it and more. My childhood best friend. I fucked it all up with her without even knowing I was. The price of fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Not when it means you lose someone like her.

  It all started going south after I won a local talent scouting contest right after high school. They didn’t give me much time to plan my move to LA. I tried to talk her into going with me, but it was all too much for her. She was already enrolled at The University of Michigan on a full academic scholarship. Her dream school.

  I watched her walk away from me with a promise we would do everything we could to try and work it out while I stood at the top of our childhood playhouse. Hands gripping tight to the railing. Mouth set in a tight line. Heart sinking to the bottom of my stomach. Somehow, I knew then it would be the last time I saw her. I watched her like a hawk until she slipped into the trees and out of my sight. It was the first time in my life I cried. The second time came a few months later. I haven’t shed a tear since. I want to cry now simply because she’s here. In the very beautiful flesh.

  We hung out in an old beaten-up railcar we’d found in the woods behind our home for years. Two innocent young kids only days apart in age played, dreamed, and at the age of fifteen fell in love. It was inevitable. We’re both twenty-nine. Which means I have loved Joslyn for twenty-three years.

  Our love was powerful. She became my angel, and I wanted to be her warrior. To do what was in my means to make a better life for the both of us.

  And so I put the talent I was blessed with to use. I saved every dime I made for over a year, bought a guitar, and taught myself how to play. It wasn’t until the music teacher at our school heard me singing that I learned about the talent contest. Both Joslyn and I were thrilled for me to get this chance. I busted my ass to perfect the song Unforgettable, the one I wrote for her. The one I still sing on stage to this day. And every damn time I do, I picture her face. Her cries, her frustration when I told her I had to leave.

  And then a miracle happened only to be taken away.

  I shake my head, stand up, and circle my hands around the bars. She’s so close to me, but her thoughts are a million miles away.

  When I meet her gaze, I can’t help but be drawn into her eyes. The icy blueness darting back to me has produced a feeling like I’m being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions. Every fleck of color strikes out and slashes me with years of pain.

  She’s stuck back in time, and yet here we are in a place where the ice has cracked over the blunt news of our private situation. I can see every myriad shade of blue swirling together to form a sudden storm of built-up resentment and guilt.

  “I’m sorry.” Those words bleed out of me around a lump that has been lodged in my throat for years. It pushes its way through the tension I’ve no doubt Marcus and the cop can feel coursing through their veins. Because let's face the truth; there isn’t a single person out there who went through growing up as we did, two peas in a pod who created another, only to lose it when Joslyn was on her way to surprise me.

  She had barely started college and was giving it all up for our baby and me.

  My fault, all of it. The silence still rings in my ears from the angry words I said.

  She stands stock-still, and I wonder what the next words will be out of her mouth.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. You’ll soon be fine, Roman. Officer, please escort my client to be arraigned.” That wasn’t quite what I was expecting. I’ll take it none the same if it gets me out of here and closer to her. Joslyn spins around on a pair of sexy-as-hell black heels and walks away from me without another word.

  “I’m glad you found her, Marcus. Whatever the hell you have planned up your sleeve by bringing her here better not explode in my face, or I’ll fire you like everyone else.” He waits for the officer to clip the cuffs around my wrists and push me in the direction of the hallway before he responds.

  “Shut up, asshole. I busted my balls to get her to drive across town. The rest is up to you. You’re welcome by the way.”

  “What do you mean, across town? Has she been living here? For how fucking long?”

  “About three years,” he responds as the officer shoves me through the door. Son of a bitch. She moved here right around the same time I quit keeping tabs on her? Fate needs to walk away from me and leave me alone for good this time.

  I’ve never forgotten about Joslyn. Don’t think I ever could. She’s the only woman who had a hold of my heart. She still does.

  When Joslyn miscarried our baby, not being able to help ease her pain tore my soul out pieces at a time. I went to Chicago to find her, but she had already left the hospital. I searched everywhere for her until the studio demanded I return. I left her there. Both of us broken and defeated.

  I’m not about to let anything come between the direction our lives were destined to go since the day she stood in the driveway holding the hand of the social worker who dropped her off. Not ever again. Not even her.

  I’ll do whatever it takes to steer our lives back on course.

  In the right direction.

  Chapter 2

  Joslyn

  “Your Honor. Since the day Mr. Nixon broke out as a solo artist, he has been one of the most consistently followed celebrities in Hollywood. He was exiting the courthouse after signing his divorce papers and was attacked by not one but dozens of members of the paparazzi asking him questions about something that happened in his life years ago. A very personal matter, I’d like to add. He did nothing to spur on this uncalled-for behavior. He’s had one arrest, which was years ago, he’s an upstanding citizen, and if I may, sir, I would like to add that my client very rarely talks to the press about his personal life. In fact, he doesn’t at all. With his celebrity status, he was expecting questions regarding his divorce. Not for a man to pull the rug out from under him and ask him if he knew his high school girlfriend, who happens to be me, had suffered a miscarriage. There’s no shame in a man protecting himself or anyone else from pain. Therefore, I address the court and the district attorney’s office to reconsider the charges and have them dismissed. I would also like to ask that Mr. Nixon be allowed to walk out of here on the merit of recognizance instead of paying the ridiculous bail amount set forth by the district attorney,” I announce then sit back down shakily and try to hold it together.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not quite understanding what in the hell I just did. I’ve gone and
thrown my heart right in the mix of this with my admission. Whatever. They have all heard about me anyway. I’m sure of it. May as well give a few more pieces to the media who were all over me this morning like flies on shit enough to let them argue about who reported it first.

  They were awful a little while ago when Marcus escorted me in here. It was bad enough to wake up this morning and see my face on every scaggy lying rag magazine in the world when I strolled by a vendor. Now it’s flying around the Internet. I’ve even made the morning news. Probably in fifty fucking languages by now, too. Only, the story they are telling is the truth this time instead of all the lies they usually spill. And all of it is firing directly at me.

  This was definitely not my idea of becoming a well-known hotshot lawyer who thrives on squashing assholes who think they can cheat and railroad people for their own personal reasons. Especially divorces involving custody battles with their children. I’d love to smack both my client and the other parent’s heads together until all they see is fighting the way they do only hurts their children. Idiots. The whole lot of them.

  I sigh. Do my best to focus my thoughts on the case in front of me. There shouldn’t be any more questions asked by anyone in this room that’s suddenly silent. Even if the district attorney objects, all they’re going to do is waste everyone’s time. What that slimy asshole did was uncalled for. It was as low as a person can get. The only thing hurting on him is his ego and his supposedly broken nose, a few cracked ribs, and a swollen esophagus from being throat punched. I’m sure his wallet won’t be hurting for quite some time. If ever. Neither will every magazine that printed this.

  If the district attorney, whom I happen to know quite well, isn’t willing to do his job by tossing this out, then he doesn’t give a crap either way that I’ve fallen off the cliff I was dangling on before this bomb hit me out of nowhere. He knew it was me the paparazzi were talking about before we started, which is why I confirmed it in the first place. He needed to be reminded, so I used it to my advantage.

  I was shaking in my seat while waiting for Roman’s case to be called. I only hope the judge is the only one who noticed; not the man sitting close to me. I saw the pity in the old man’s eyes when he walked out and searched me out from his seat on the bench. Pity is not what I need from anyone. I need the judge and the DA to drop this case so I can pick up the pieces and move on.

  I’m a mess, barely keeping it together at the moment. I’m also damn good at my job, but I now think I allowed my emotions to get the best of me by admitting it was me. I guess no one can say I didn’t represent my client to the best of my ability.

  I have no clue how this man does what he does and still stands tall on his own two feet after everything that’s happened to him, while I’m over here ready to slaughter them all for invading my privacy. I’m surprised Roman didn’t do more damage than he did.

  I’m angry with myself too for treating Roman like shit when he never did anything wrong. It was me who tore us apart. Me who gave up on us after the devastation that messed me up for a very long time. I stood in front of him and shot bullets out of my mouth. Directed my emotional baggage at him when what I should have done was send his publicist in to tell him his lawyer would like a private word with him. Except, there wasn’t much time left before he needed to be here due to me stalling when getting ready this morning. It hurts to see him.

  Seeing him again is like acid pumping through my veins. Every drip a constant biting fear of wondering if it will be the one to knock me into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares. Roman and certain parts of my life, mostly our loss and the way I handled it, including the way I feel about him, are the only obstacles in my life I’ve tried to avoid while I’m awake, and now our history will be everywhere.

  He’s perfect. More handsome than all the times I’ve watched him on television. The photos I would see lined up on covers of magazines while standing in the check-out line lost in thought. Remembering all of the times we would climb trees, making up our own games with the few toys we had. Stumbling upon the railcar and the excitement two young kids felt over a secret hideaway.

  A part of me shivered when he spoke my name. The part I’ve guarded since the accident, the big black hole in my chest retreated back into herself, leaving years of hurt to be hung out to dry. It did nothing to protect the instinctive reaction my body had to the deepness in his voice that to this day is rooted deep inside of me.

  I felt his eyes penetrating me as I took in his short-cropped dark hair, his dark-colored eyes that always reminded me of hot chocolate on a cold winter night. I used to wrap myself up in their warmth. He’s taller, filled out with muscles everywhere. Tattered jeans, black boots, and a black T-shirt stretched across a chest that I want to rub my hands down before falling into a dreamy sleep while lying naked by his side.

  I should have never walked out of my office and into the break room for a bottle of water yesterday. But I did. Good ole Joslyn Reynolds, the woman who doesn’t ask her assistant to fetch things she can get for herself, walked right into a small room with a dozen of my co-workers, while they all stopped what they were doing and stared at me with their jaws hitting the floor.

  My high school picture, along with several recent photos, and my life history were flashing across the television screen right next to his, and in a matter of minutes, the heart I’d worked years at trying to build back up I felt ripped right out of my chest. I turned white as a sheet.

  If it hadn't been for my secretary convincing me to take a seat, I would have grabbed my gun and driven up here to shoot Roman dead, whether it was his fault or not. Which I know it isn’t. It’s his skin-and-bones supermodel plastic Barbie imitator wife’s fault. I only know this because Marcus told me their suspicions. The bitch better hope I never have to see her, or I’ll wrap my hands around her scrawny little neck and choke the hundred pounds right out of her.

  Yet here I am helping him out after getting what started out to be a phone call to warn me. To which I basically told Marcus to fuck off and die because I already knew. Except, when he told me the best thing I could do to show the vultures they weren’t getting to me was to show up and represent Roman, I found myself angrily saying yes.

  I ignore the stare I’m receiving from Roman and rest my hands on the desk in front of me while we wait for the judge to make his ruling when suddenly I’m torn apart even more by uninvited memories I’ve hidden for years.

  I knew Roman was going to win the contest with the first word that came out of his mouth. He had a talent like nothing I had heard before. When his name was announced, he didn’t wait for the announcer even to finish before he jumped off that stage and brought me into his arms. I was happy for him. This young man who had been abandoned by his parents the same as me deserved the world, and as much as it killed me, I wasn’t going to stand in his way. I relied on him too much as it was.

  When he told me they wanted him immediately in LA, I convinced him to go instead of being the clingy girlfriend who wanted desperately to cry and tell him to stay. I wasn’t that type of a girl. I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a social worker, to help other children who weren’t as fortunate as the two of us were.

  I didn’t know where I would eventually end up in my life the day I walked away from him standing at the top of the stairs in the one place that holds more happy memories for me than anywhere else. I just had the nagging feeling that our separation was going to drive us apart.

  Little did I know that on that very same day, the last time we had sex, I would end up pregnant. Life sure does have a funny way of changing directions in a blink of an eye.

  So, I packed up my bags and listened to my heart instead of the voice in my head telling me to let him go and not tell him about the baby. I couldn’t do that to Roman, our unborn child, or to me. We all deserved to be together. I missed him like crazy, and he missed me. We were young, barely able to speak to one another on the phone due to our conflicting schedules, but through it all, we loved each o
ther more than we did ourselves. I could hear the desperate pain of how much he missed me in his voice every time we talked.

  I felt out of sorts the day I started the long drive in my run-down Toyota to surprise him. I chalked it up to nerves of seeing him, his reaction, and driving across the country by myself.

  By the time I hit the busy traffic outside of Chicago, my palms were sweaty, and my knees wouldn’t stop shaking as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic with my music blaring. What I should have done was pay attention to what was happening behind me. A semi barreled into a vehicle a few back from mine, causing a domino effect of every car to collide into the one in front of it or veer sideways and hit the cement barrier. I didn’t see it coming. Had no idea what happened until I woke up in the hospital days later, disoriented and in a state of panic.

  I knew I had lost my baby before the doctor told me. I lay there for hours mourning the loss on my own. It was the hardest thing I have been through in my life to lie there and think of what could have been and the decisions I had to make.

  I was lucky to be alive, and yet I didn’t feel lucky at all. On a drastic whim, after noticing my backpack sitting in a chair in the corner, I rang the buzzer for the nurse. To my surprise, it wasn’t her who walked in. It was a short young woman around my age. Dark hair and deep, caring green eyes. Her name was Caroline. She worked as a nurse’s aide part-time while attending Loyola University. I pulled myself out of my stupor, asked her for my bag, and made the call that would change my life.

  Caroline didn’t say a word before she walked out and closed the door. Somehow, I knew she was out there waiting. It took everything I had in me to tell Roman. My heart silently cried when his first words were asking why I didn’t tell him. How I thought I could drive across the country alone when I barely drove around our town. He was hurt. I became angry. And then he begged me to forgive him. Told me he would be there to get me as soon as he could. I didn’t hang around, and to this day I wish I had. I let him go. I had to. Our lives were going in the wrong direction.