Chapter 10

Roxanne

When my face shows in the window’s glass, flashbulbs go wild…

I give up my dreams, slow and groggy, to the muffled sound of Sam-o and Iggy arguing with their typical punk rock passion. This isn’t an unusual occurrence. They’re terrible roommates. Iggy works herself to the bone and loves a clean, quiet house, especially early in the morning and late at night. She’s a giver. Sam-o, on the other hand, is an amusing but self-centered slob who has a penchant for late-night drinking and early morning puking. She’s an acquired taste. We were wooed by her skill with the accordion, but after a year living with her, I’m starting to wonder if The Cabbage Splat Dolls really needs an accordion.

“And you didn’t give a shit, did you?” Iggy demands. The last of my dreams–Blake’s ocean blue eyes, smiling down at me–fade away completely, and I moan, pressing my face into the pillow. I do not care what they’re arguing about. I just want my goddamn dreams back.

“Oh, please!” Sam-o sneers. “Like you gave a shit when you kicked me out?! You left me no choice!”

“Guys, guys!” Pepper begs sweetly. “Just stop!”

“Get the hell out of here if you can’t take the heat,” Sam-o snaps at her.

A deep frown digs into my forehead, and I glare over at my bedroom door hanging ajar. I’ve never heard an argument like this before. I roll my tongue around in my stale mouth and wonder how much time I have before work...if I dare go out there to make myself some breakfast, anyway. Sounds like I might get hit by shrapnel or something.

“I can’t leave,” Pepper pipes meekly. “The sidewalk is swamped, Sam-o.”

The sidewalk is swamped?

“Look,” Sam-o says. “I know you’re pissed. That’s why I’m leaving. Don’t even worry about it. I’m gone. I’m out. It’s over.”

“You’re damn right you’re gone and you’re out and it’s over,” Iggy says. “You totally fucked Roxanne!”

That gets my attention.

I lunge upright in the bed and glower harder at my bedroom door, still partially blind. I’m pretty sure Sam-o and I have never had sex. “What?” I call.

“Did you even think about Jared?” Iggy goes on. No one seems to have heard me.

“You didn’t give me any choice,” Sam-o insists. “I did what I had to do, and now I’m gone.”

“Well, you’re not leaving fast enough!” Iggy screams. I’ve never heard her like this before, and I shamble up from the mattress, forcing my wooden legs to propel me to the bedroom door. I have to see what’s going on.

I shove the door open and lean on its frame. The lower level is in total bedlam.

Pepper is on the couch, looking like a little girl watching her parents fight. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and tears shimmer her eyes. Poor Pepper. She’s too good for this world.

Sam-o is elbow-deep in a suitcase that has already been packed with her sleeping bag and a lot of her clothes. So that’s that, then. Guess we really don’t need an accordionist.

And Iggy is grabbing Sam-o’s collection of vinyl records from the corner of the living room and heaving them out the window, onto the street, like a betrayed girlfriend. Damn.

I’ve never known her to be petty or violent…which means that Sam-o really did fuck me over.

Great.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, staggering down the steps.

Sam-o glances up and, for just an instant, I see remorse flash in her eyes.

“Tell her, Sam-o,” Iggy commands. The green-haired drummer has a more ruthless and wrathful face than I’ve ever seen before. That’s saying a lot, for a green-haired drummer. “Tell her what you did.”

Sam-o slings her duffel bag around her shoulder and gives the living room one more cursory look before nodding to herself, then looking at me and shrugging. “She’ll figure it out,” she says, still looking at me, although she’s replying to Iggy.

Sam-o pivots and marches from the couch with her duffel bag bursting at the seams. I see the portable clothing rack is empty now. “I don’t need the rest of my stuff,” she mutters, shoving open the door and lurching out into the hall. “I can buy new stuff.”

My stomach drops flat to the floor as all the little pieces of the argument slowly filter together, a puzzle solving itself. Iggy is furious. Sam-o has been kicked out. But she suddenly has plenty of money...because she fucked me over.

And Pepper said the sidewalk is swamped.

I stride to the apartment window where Iggy stands, moving with much more speed now that I’m freaked out, and we peer down at the fray together.

Paparazzi yammer excitedly on this busted street, and when my face shows in the window’s glass, flashbulbs go wild. I cringe and fall away from the cameras, holding my hand over my face like a vampire exposed to the sun. “What the fuck?” I bark. “What was that?”

Iggy grimaces and places one small hand on my shoulder, drawing me forward. “So,” she sighs, “remember how we all gave Sam-o that ultimatum?”

My gut creeps. “Yeah?”

“She decided to make the most for herself.” Iggy settles onto the side of the couch. “I mean,” she goes on, “she does know you’re having a tryst with this Blake Berringer guy.”

“Had,” I correct her bleakly. “We broke up.”

Iggy’s eyes bulge. “Now?!” she shrills. “Right after you get pregnant?”

“It was preemptive,” I explain. “He would have dumped me as soon as I told him. I mean, you know Blake Berringer. We all do. Right? Nightclubs. Supermodels. Fist fights. He’s not...” My hand subconsciously folds over my stomach, even though I’m only a few weeks pregnant. Our baby could have his own chateau on the head of a pin. “…going to be anybody’s daddy.”

I shrug and break eye contact. The more I think about the lonely truth of this pregnancy, the less I even care what Sam-o did. She clearly told the paparazzi where I live, and that I’m Blake Berringer’s American flavor of the week. So what? I’ll be out of the news cycle as soon as he goes back home again.

I wonder how long it will take Jared to come here and kill me when he finds out. At least I changed my phone number after Jared’s call, but I can’t just move out of the apartment. I’m fucking trapped.

“Did you at least tell him?” Iggy asks.

“Tell who?” My mind is still in a million places at once. Part of me is in Blake’s arms, and part of me is getting ready for work, and part of me is fighting through this sludge of camera people, and part of me is being choked to death by Jared. “Tell who what, now?”

“Did you at least tell him that you’re pregnant?” Iggy reiterates.

I’m still thinking about both Jared and Blake. “Who?”

“Blake!” Iggy cries. “Does he know that you’re pregnant?!”

“No,” I answer, voice soft and without inflection. “He wouldn’t care. He thinks babies are little monsters, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“Whelp.” Iggy offers me a helpless smile and shrugs her shoulders.

“He knows now,” Pepper contributes.

I blink and then my eyes bulge. “That’s what she told them? She told them that I was pregnant?”

“Oh, she did more than that.” Iggy’s sad smile falls apart. “You left your pregnancy test in the wastebasket.”

“Oh, my god,” I say, anticipating her next words. But it can’t be. It’s so…nasty. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope,” Pepper says.

“She sold it to Soap Sizzle,” Iggy tells me. “She sold them everything she could get her hands on. She sold them the receipt from the grocery store...also in the basket. She sold them pictures of you, pictures of your test, and pictures of your test and the receipt. Before I got ahold of her, I think she might even have stolen some of your clothes to sell.”

I groan and bow forward, vengefully rubbing at my eyelids and forehead. This cannot be happening. Sam-o was my friend (kind of). At least, I didn’t think she would totally fuck me over like this!

“How much did she get?” I have to ask, still massaging my temples and staring at the ground like I’m preparing for impact in a plane crash. And I kind of am.

“She wouldn’t tell me exactly,” Iggy says. “Probably because I was ready to kill her.”

“She bought herself a new car…in cash,” Pepper volunteers. “So, I’m going to guess that she got at least $50,000 for all of it.”

I allow one final, shuddering exhale and lunge up from the couch. I can’t just stay crumpled in a ball in my apartment anymore. Not now that Sam-o sold me out so hard and forced my goddamn hand. Now I have to do something.

Now I have to tell Blake that I’m pregnant. If he doesn’t already know now.

I have to tell Candace, too.

I’m not sure which one is scarier to me, honestly...