Pretty Baby

Chapter 8

I wake up to the sound of someone pounding on my bedroom door. The incessant knocking reverberates through my skull, amplifying the hangover that's already threatening to split my head in two. I groan, rolling over and burying my face in the pillow. Maybe if I ignore it, they'll go away. That usually works.

No such luck.

"Zac! Open the goddamn door!" Xavier's voice cuts through the morning haze like a chainsaw. "I know you're in there, you miserable bastard!"

I consider my options. I could pretend I'm not here, but Xavier's nothing if not persistent. He'd probably break down the door if I don't answer. With a heavy sigh, I drag myself out of bed, stumbling towards the door in nothing but my boxers.

"Alright, alright," I say, "Keep your pants on."

The moment I crack the door open, Xavier barges in, nearly knocking me over in the process. He's a whirlwind of expensive cologne and righteous indignation, his designer suit a stark contrast to my disheveled state.

"What the fuck, man?" he demands, pacing back and forth across my bedroom. "What the actual fuck?"

I rub my eyes, trying to focus. "Good morning to you too, sunshine. Did you at least make coffee to go with all this yelling?"

Xavier ignores my attempt at a joke. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Any fucking clue at all?"

I shuffle towards the kitchen, desperate for caffeine. "I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"Taylor," Xavier spits out the name like it's poison. "Ring any bells?"

Ah, yes. Taylor. Memories of last night come flooding back – dinner at some overpriced restaurant, too much wine, and a beautiful woman who couldn't take a hint.

I shrug, "What about her?"

Xavier looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. "What about her? What about her? Jesus Christ, Zac! She's only the most influential entertainment journalist in the city! The woman who could make or break your career with a single article!"

I take a sip of coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. "And?"

"And you didn't sleep with her!" Xavier explodes. "She was practically throwing herself at you all night, and you turned her down! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

I set down my mug, feeling a headache coming on that has nothing to do with my hangover. "Look, man, I appreciate your concern for my sex life, but -"

"This isn't about your sex life!" Xavier interrupts. "This is about your career! Your future! Taylor was ready to write a glowing profile on you, sing your praises to the high heavens. But now? Now she's going to crucify you in print!"

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. "And why would she do that?"

Xavier throws his hands up in exasperation. "Because you rejected her, you idiot! Women like Taylor aren't used to being turned down. She's going to be out for blood."

I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "So, let me get this straight. You're mad at me because I didn't sleep with someone just to get a good review?"

"Yes!" Xavier shouts, then catches himself. "I mean, no. I mean... Christ, Zac, do you have to be so goddamn principled all the time?"

I shake my head, pouring another cup of coffee. "Sorry to disappoint you, Xavier, but I'm not going to whore myself out for a puff piece."

Xavier collapses onto the couch, looking defeated. "You don't understand, man. This could be the end of your career. Taylor's got connections everywhere. If she decides to blacklist you..."

"Then I'll find another career," I interrupt. "Maybe I'll become a monk. I hear they get great health benefits."

Xavier doesn't laugh. He just stares at me, a mixture of frustration and something that might be admiration in his eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?"

I raise my mug in a mock toast. "It's part of my charm."

Just then, there's a rustling from the bedroom. Jade emerges, wrapped in one of my shirts, her dark hair a tangled mess. She blinks sleepily, taking in the scene before her.

"What's going on?" she asks, her voice still sleepy.

Xavier's eyes widen, darting between Jade and me. "You've got to be kidding me," he mutters.

I ignore him, offering Jade a smile. "Morning, sunshine. Coffee?"

She nods, padding over to the kitchen. As I pour her a cup, I can feel Xavier's glare burning into my back.

"So," Jade says, accepting the mug, "what's all the shouting about?"

Xavier opens his mouth, no doubt ready to launch into another tirade, but I cut him off. "Oh, you know Xavier. Always worried about my career. Apparently, I committed some grave sin by not sleeping with a journalist last night."

Jade's eyebrows shoot up. "A journalist?"

I nod, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, some woman named Taylor. Apparently, she was flirting with me all night, but I wasn't interested."

The change in Jade's demeanor is subtle but immediate. Her grip on the coffee mug tightens, her jaw clenching ever so slightly. "Taylor? As in Taylor Shea? The Rolling Stone writer?"

"That's the one," Xavier chimes in, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Gorgeous, successful, and very interested in our boy, Zac, here. But he turned her down flat."

Jade's eyes narrow, flicking between Xavier and me. "Is that so?" I can see the jealousy bubbling up behind her carefully composed expression. “I’ve been following her writing since I could read. She’s the reason why I became a journalism major,” Jade says.

Xavier launches into his doomsday predictions once again, painting a vivid picture of my imminent career demise. I tune him out, focusing instead on Jade. She's trying to hide it, but I can see the mix of emotions playing across her face. Relief that I didn't sleep with Taylor, jealousy that Taylor was interested in the first place, and a hint of worry about what this might mean for my future.

"...and that's why," Xavier concludes, "Zac’s career is basically over unless we can do some serious damage control."

Jade takes a sip of her coffee, considering. "It can't be that bad, can it? I mean, just because he didn't sleep with her doesn't mean she'll write a hit piece."

Xavier scoffs. "You don't know Taylor like I do. She's ruthless. If she feels slighted, she'll stop at nothing to get revenge."

I roll my eyes. "You're being dramatic, Xavier. Taylor's a professional. I'm sure she can separate her personal feelings from her work."

"Oh, like you do?" Xavier shoots back. "Mr. 'I'll-write-a-thinly-veiled-album-about-everyone-who's-ever-pissed-me-off'?"

I have to admit, he's got me there. "Fair point," I concede. "But still, I think you're overreacting."

Jade sets down her mug, a determined look in her eye. "Well, if Taylor does try to write something nasty, we'll just have to beat her to the punch."

Xavier and I both turn to look at her. "What do you mean?" I ask.

A slow smile spreads across Jade's face. "I mean, why wait for her to write her article? Why don't we get our side of the story out there first?"

Xavier leans forward, intrigued. "Go on."

"Well," Jade continues, warming to her theme, "what if we spin this as Zac being a gentleman? A rare breed in the music scene who respects women and doesn't use his fame to get laid?"

I can't help but laugh. "Me? A gentleman? Have you met me?"

Jade shoots me a look. "Shut up, I'm trying to save your ass here."

Xavier strokes his chin, considering. "You know, that's not a bad idea. We could leak a story to a friendly outlet, paint Zac as this paragon of virtue..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I interject. "Let's not get carried away here. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

Jade ignores me, her mind clearly racing. "We could even get some quotes from other women you've worked with, talking about how respectful and professional you are."

Xavier nods enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! And we'll emphasize your commitment to your craft, how you're more interested in creating meaningful music than chasing cheap thrills nowadays."

I look between the two of them, feeling a bit like I'm watching a tennis match. "Don't I get a say in this?"

They both turn to me, identical expressions of determination on their faces. "No," they say in unison.

I throw up my hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Work your PR magic. Just don't make me sound too saintly, alright? I've got to maintain some semblance of my bad boy image."

Xavier jumps to his feet, already pulling out his phone. "I'm on it. I've got contacts at several magazines who owe me favors. We'll have this story out before Taylor even finishes her morning coffee."

As Xavier steps out onto the balcony to make his calls, Jade sidles up to me. "So," she says, her voice low, "Taylor was flirting with you all night, huh?"

I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Yeah, but I only have eyes for one girl."

She rolls her eyes, but I can see the pleased smile tugging at her lips. "Smooth talker. You’re talking about Penny aren’t you?”

I lean in, brushing my lips against hers. "You love it."

She doesn't deny it, instead deepening the kiss. For a moment, I forget about Taylor, about Xavier's panic, about the potential career disaster looming on the horizon. All that matters is Jade, warm and real in my arms.

Of course, the moment is shattered when Xavier bursts back in, waving his phone triumphantly. "It's done!" he announces. "I've got three different outlets ready to run with our story. By this time tomorrow, you'll be the toast of Nashville. The last true gentleman in a sea of sleaze."

I groan, burying my face in Jade's hair. "Great. Just what I always wanted."

Jade pats my cheek consolingly. "Look on the bright side. At least now you have an excuse for why you're not sleeping with every woman who throws herself at you."

I pull back, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? And what excuse is that?"

She grins, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You're saving yourself for marriage, of course."

Xavier lets out a bark of laughter. "Oh, that's good. We should add that to the story."

I look between them, horror dawning. "You wouldn't dare."

But judging by the twin looks of glee on their faces, I have a sinking feeling that they absolutely would.

As Xavier launches into a detailed plan for my image overhaul and Jade chimes in with increasingly outrageous suggestions, I can't help but wonder how my life got to this point. Here I am, a grown man, being scolded for not sleeping with someone, then praised for the same thing, all before I've even finished my morning coffee.

But as I watch Jade and Xavier, both so invested in protecting me, even if it's in their own misguided way, I feel a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the coffee. For all the chaos and complications, for all the near-disasters and PR nightmares, I wouldn't trade this life for anything.

Well, maybe for a life where I could sleep past noon without my manager breaking down my door. But beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.

So, I lean back against the counter, sipping my now cold coffee, and let the tide of their enthusiasm wash over me. Who knows? Maybe by the end of the day, I'll be Nashville’s new moral compass. Stranger things have happened.

After all, in this town, the only thing more valuable than scandal is redemption. And if I have to be redeemed for a sin I didn't even get to enjoy committing? Well, that's just another day in the life of Zac Fulton.

~ ~ ~

As Xavier walks away, his voice fading into a muffled buzz of urgent phone calls, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The energy that had filled the space just moments ago dissipates, leaving behind a heavy silence. Jade and I stand in the kitchen, the remnants of our cold coffee sitting forgotten on the counter.

I can feel Jade's eyes on me, her gaze carrying a weight I'm not sure I'm ready to confront. When I finally meet her look, I see a mix of emotions swirling in her dark eyes. Curiosity, uncertainty, and something that might be fear.

"So," she begins, her voice carefully neutral, "you're really not interested in Taylor at all?"

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance but probably missing by a mile. "Nah, she's not my type. Too… polished, I guess. Like a Barbie doll come to life."

Jade nods slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. I can almost see the gears turning in her head, processing my words, searching for hidden meanings. "And it has nothing to do with... us?"

There it is. The question I've been dreading, the elephant in the room we've both been dancing around for weeks. I hesitate, suddenly feeling like I'm walking a tightrope without a net.

"Well, I mean…," I start, then stop, searching for the right words. "I guess I'm not really sure where we stand, you know?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I've said the wrong thing. Jade's expression closes off, a wall coming down behind her eyes so fast it's almost audible.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" she asks, her voice tight with an emotion I can't quite place. Hurt? Anger? Disappointment? Maybe all three.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. Why is this so hard? Why can't I just say what I mean for once in my life?

"I just... we've never really defined this thing between us, have we?" I gesture vaguely between us, as if that could somehow understand the complexity of our relationship. "I mean, are we exclusive? Are we just having fun? I don't want to make assumptions."

Jade takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. The physical distance she puts between us feels like a chasm. "So, what? You need me to spell it out for you? To give you some kind of relationship contract?"

"No, that's not what I meant," I protest, but I can see I'm only digging myself deeper. Each word feels like another shovelful of dirt in the grave of whatever it is we have – or had.

Jade's eyes flash with a mixture of hurt and anger. "You know what, Zac? You're right. We haven't defined anything. And maybe that's for the best."

My heart sinks, a cold feeling spreading through my chest. "Jade, come on..."

But she's on a roll now, words spilling out in a rush like a dam breaking. "Maybe we've been kidding ourselves this whole time. I mean, look at us. The age difference alone..."

"Age is just a number," I interject, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. A cliché trotted out by men far less self-aware than I pretend to be.

Jade shakes her head, a sad smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Is it, though? Or is it just another excuse? Another way for you to keep people at arm's length?"

I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out. Because deep down, in that place I try so hard to ignore, I know she might be right. Isn't that what I've been doing all along? Keeping everyone at a safe distance, never letting anyone get too close?

"Listen," Jade says, her voice softening slightly, though the hurt is still evident in her eyes, "you're free to do whatever you want, Zac. If you want to pursue Taylor, or anyone else, don't let me stop you. Maybe... maybe this whole thing was a mistake from the start."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. I want to tell her she's wrong, that what we have is real and important and worth fighting for. But the truth is, I'm not sure I know what we have. And maybe that's the problem.

I take a step towards her, reaching out, but she flinches away. The small movement feels like a knife twisting in my chest.

"Jade, I…," I start, but I trail off, unsure of what to say. How do I explain that I'm terrified of letting her in, of admitting how much she means to me? How do I tell her that the thought of losing her scares me more than any career setback or scathing review ever could?

Jade looks at me, really looks at me, and for a moment I feel exposed, like she can see right through all my bullshit to the scared, messed-up core of me. "You know, Zac," she says softly, "for a world famous musician, you sure have a hard time expressing yourself."

I let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well, it's easier when it's lyrics in a song. Real life is... messier."

She nods, a flicker of understanding passing across her face. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you've spent so long living behind your songs that you don't know how to navigate real life anymore."

Her words sting, but I can't deny the truth in them. How many times have I retreated into my writing when things got too real, too intense? How many relationships have I sabotaged because I was too afraid to be vulnerable?

Before I can formulate a response, a cry pierces the air. My daughter's voice, high and distressed, coming from her room. The sound cuts through the tension between Jade and me like a knife, a stark reminder of the real world beyond our emotional standoff.

Jade and I both turn towards the sound, our argument momentarily forgotten in the face of a more immediate concern.

"I should..." I gesture vaguely towards my daughter's room, suddenly eager for an escape from this conversation that's spiraling out of my control.

Jade nods, stepping aside. "Yeah, you should go."

As I move past her, I can't help but feel like I'm walking away from more than just this conversation. There's a finality in the air, a sense that something has changed between us. It's like watching the last grains of sand fall through an hourglass, knowing there's nothing I can do to stop time from running out.

I pause at the doorway, looking back at Jade. She stands in the middle of the room, looking small and vulnerable in my oversized shirt. For a moment, I see all the possibilities of what we could have been, all the happiness we might have shared, slipping away like smoke through my fingers.

"Jade, I…," I start, not sure what I'm going to say, but knowing I need to say something, anything, to bridge this growing chasm between us.

She cuts me off with a shake of her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Just go, daddy-o. Your daughter needs you."

The finality in her voice hits me like a physical blow. I want to argue, to fight, to tell her that I need her, too. But the words stick in my throat, trapped behind years of emotional walls I've built so high I'm not sure I know how to tear them down anymore.

With a heavy heart, I turn away and head towards my daughter's room. As I walk down the hallway, I can feel the weight of everything I didn’t say.

Penny’s cries grow louder as I approach her room, a reminder of the one constant in my chaotic life. No matter what mess I make of my relationships, no matter how many times I stumble and fall, she's always there. My anchor, my reason for trying to be better.

As I reach for the doorknob, I take a deep breath, trying to push thoughts of Jade and Taylor and my imploding career to the back of my mind. Right now, my daughter needs me. Everything else can wait.

But even as I step into her room, ready to comfort her, I can't shake the feeling that I've just lost something precious. The image of Jade standing alone in my living room, hurt and disappointment etched across her beautiful face, is burned into my mind.

I cross the room to Penny’s crib where she sits tangled in her sheets, tears streaming down her face. As I gather her into my arms, murmuring soothing nonsense, I'm struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

How many times have I been here before? How many times have I retreated to the safety of another room to avoid confrontation. It's a pattern, I realize with a sinking feeling. A pattern I'm not sure I know how to break.

My daughter's sobs gradually subside as I rock her gently, her small body warm against my chest. As her breathing evens out, I find myself wondering what Jade is doing. Is she still standing in the living room processing what just happened? Has she left, deciding that she's had enough of my emotional unavailability? The thought sends a spike of panic through me.

I want to go to her and try and explain, to make things right, but I know I can't leave my daughter, not when she needs me. And maybe that's part of the problem, too. Always having a reason, an excuse, to avoid confronting the hard truths about myself and my relationships.

As I sit there in the dim light of my daughter's room, I'm hit with a startling clarity. I've spent so long crafting stories, creating characters who live and love and lose with an intensity I've always shied away from in my own life. I've hidden behind my writing, using it as a shield against the messy, painful realities of human connection.

But what has it gotten me? A string of failed relationships, a reputation as a womanizer that's more defense mechanism than truth, and now, the very real possibility that I've pushed away someone who could have been truly important to me.

As Penny starts to smile and giggle at the funny faces I’ve been making at her, I bring her into the living room. The room is silent. Jade is not standing there waiting for me.