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Baby Love McKinley
The green room is empty. The guys are out putting on a special promo mini-show. It's part of the publicity Jamen Jacobs coordinated to welcome them to Ruined Records. They pop in and do a couple songs during other artists' shows. It's similar to how Ruinpopped in to do a couple songs on Matted Whine's fairground show.
I don't know if that sparked a new kind of publicity or what, but all of Jamen Jacobs' bands seem to be doing it lately.
I love watching them perform, but my dad has been calling non-stop and it seemed like it wasn't going to end until he reached me.
I stayed back to call him. It was obviously a huge mistake.
"This is important," my father says, in his stern, no-nonsense voice. "You're to stay out of the public eye. Do not make waves. I won't have you ruining my chances at being elected because you're splashed all over the gossip magazines with those men you associate with."
Staring at the wall, I nod even though he can't see me. My stomach aches with the twinge of pain that always comes when he lectures me. I guess I finally warranted that phone call. Too bad its only purpose is to put me in my place.
"I'm serious." My dad's voice echoes around the empty room. "My voters vote for me because I'm an upstanding member of society. You and those deviants have already tarnished my image once. We raised you better than this. I don't know why you insist on trying to hurt me."
Hurt him? Please.
I bite my lip, letting the tears fall. There's nowhere else for them to go. It would be nice if he could pretend to love me. He's asking for a favor and insulting me all at once.
"You know I'm extremely pregnant, right, Dad?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from breaking.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to hold back a sob. I don't even like this man. Why the hell do I let him hurt me? How he thinks of me or feels about meshouldbe irrelevant.
Unfortunately, I've never quite learned to be as heartless as my father or as cold and calculating as my mother.
It's like I'm that little girl again, biting my cheek to keep from talking. If I talked too much they'd send me to my room. If I was quiet and didn't bother them then I could stay, but if not I was sent away. And it might be a long time before they remembered I was gone.
My father couldn't stand the sound of my voice. He's always been good at pretending to be an upstanding member of society. Great at putting on a jovial face, that act when anyone else is watching.
Everyone thinks he's this jolly, good-natured, Southern gentleman.
Behind closed doors he's an entirely different person. As a kid, I made excuses for his bad behavior.
Being a politician is stressful.
He used up all his niceness during the day, talking to all those other people.
He's trying to help me be a better person.
That one was the hardest to swallow. Even lying to myself, I never quite convinced my brain of that one.
The cold walls of our mansion hid a lot of secrets. My mother had literally zero interest in me except as a doll she could dress up for parties, pictures, and pageants.
"Are you listening to me?" my father hisses.
I shake my head, staring down at my phone.
"Sorry, I'm here," I say, rubbing a hand over my face.
"How long do you honestly expect those men to stick around? Especially now that you're pregnant. Aren't you tired of alienating your family for men that'll disappear when they find their perfect compatible scent? No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you're not an omega and you never will be."
"Yes," I snap, swiping a hand over my face. "I know that."
He's such an asshole. He knows exactly how to push my buttons to make me feel inadequate.
"Which one is the father?" My dad's voice is as cold as ice.
"I told Mama I was pregnant months ago. Why do you care now?"
