The Revenge Games Duet
“Okay, well, either you are or you aren’t.”
Exhaling, he turns around to explain himself. “There’s a group of guys I met. We just play at this local joint. Pays peanuts, but you know, whatever.”
“Wow.” I’m proud of him for finding a band but equally worried about who these people are. “Well, how about I drop by tonight?”
He shrugs his shoulders, which I take to mean whatever, disappearing into the bathroom before saying another word.
***
“Hi, Emerson!” I wave, quick to rush over to her as she carries her daughter, a diaper bag, and juggling a folder with papers inside it.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathes out, worried and anxious about something. Emerson normally dresses impeccably, but her messy bun and crinkled shirt say otherwise.
“Hey, pass me that.” I grab the folder and diaper bag, cooing at baby Lola. I’m not much of a baby person, but Lola is awfully cute. She’s one of those chubby babies with thunder thighs. Completely acceptable as a baby, not so much when you’re twenty-six and trying to shimmy your way into a pair of skinny jeans.
“Is everything okay?”
“Lola woke up with a fever. I don’t want to leave her with anyone, but I have two meetings to attend today.”
I bend down and place my hand on her cheek, noticing the pinkish tinge. Her skin is hot, and something Emerson has every right to be worried about. “Listen, take her to the doctor, and I’ll sit in on the meetings.”
“We can reschedule the studio meeting, but the other—”
“Leave it with me.” I smile and giggle at Lola, hoping it’s a small bug that she needs to get over. “This cutie wants her mommy so—”
My words are cut short as a loud burp followed by warm white liquid hits the front of my shirt. There’s a delayed reaction on my end, falling back as if I have been hit by a bullet.
The bullet just happens to be baby vomit.
“Oh my God! Milana, I’m so sorry!”
Emerson tries to retrieve wipes from the diaper bag, pulling some out to clean my shirt as Lola cries out loud. I’m in shock, the projectile sound still tormenting me.
“Emerson, it’s just a shirt. Take her to the doctor. Family first. I’ve got your meetings on my schedule, so leave it with me, okay?”
She nods, almost on the verge of tears. “This single-parent thing is hard.”
I offer her a sympathetic smile, ignoring the smell of vomit on my shirt. I’m this close to dry heaving, keeping the lump in my throat at bay. “I’m sure if Lola’s daddy could be here, he would.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We walk back to the car and settle Lola into her seat then load the rest of the stuff. Emerson warns me about the business meeting I will attend this afternoon, scattered in her thoughts while trying to start the car.
“Just listen to Jeff. He’s an excellent business manager, and all you need to do is take notes.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t stress.”
***
After sitting in the car for over an hour, I’m confident that the smell of baby puke no longer lingers or I’ve become immune to it. I sprayed my shirt over and over again, placing my jacket on once I exit the car, ignoring the sweltering heat. Thankfully, it’s dried up in the car ride over and no longer clings to my skin.
The meeting is supposed to be short, just her business manager and business partner. All I have to do is take down some key notes and bring back the contract. Easy.
The building is ultra-modern with a view of downtown Los Angeles. There are white leather lounges in the lobby, and bright paintings hang on almost every wall. One particular painting captures my attention. It looks like a big pink vagina and is probably worth a fortune. Again, LA people are weird.
I find my way to the elevator, and when it opens, it’s all gold. I press the number eight and wait patiently with the elevator music surrounding me. It doesn’t take long for my head to bop along to some familiar tune that sounds like a Barry Manilow song. It reminds me of Mama. She has this odd crush on Barry. And then my heart begins to ache, missing her like crazy. One week, and I have spoken to her three times on the phone, each time for over an hour, chatting about trivial things, anything just to hear her voice.
The elevator slows to a stop and dings as the door opens. I st