Dolly (Part three-Max Mitchell series)

TWENTY ONE

"We are massive fans of yours, that's for certain. If you're available, we are very interested in having you produce our next record."
"Thank you so much. I'd be happy to."
"Your work with Taylor is what caught our attention. Your range of musical ability is really amazing."
"I really appreciate that. The next question is, when do we start?"
"As soon as your schedule will allow."
"I'm pretty full up, we're probably a few months out, maybe more."
"Understandable. We can work with that."
"We'll talk again soon. I'll send you over to Wendy and she will take care of the schedule and all of the logistics."
"Thank you, Max."

I put her on hold, and buzzed Wendy at her desk.
"Hillary Scott on line one."
"Got it, boss."

It had been a number of weeks since I'd returned from England, leaving Tom to get back to work. I missed his presence immensely but any time we spoke I could hear the joy in his voice. The combination of filming, Shakespeare and England was good for him. He'd been sending me updates via picture text, and I have to say I was a little jealous. The area of England that he was in was like a prettier and greener Nebraska. I thought for a moment how fun it would be to surprise him on set, like I did in LA. That thought left quickly when Wendy buzzed in again, reminding me of another scheduled interview, and more work to be done. There was no way I'd be able to get away, like last time. The amount of work that had piled up while I was recuperating was staggering. Despite all of that work piled up, it was still necessary for me to keep writing and I had the perfect thing swimming around in my head.

"Wendy, hold my calls. I have to crank something out here."

Whether I'm swamped with work or not, sometimes a tune and lyrics won't leave me alone until I get it out of me. The pen hit the paper and a new personal anthem flowed like liquid. As if I were breathing, or blinking it just came automatically.

You shout it out,
But I can't hear a word you say
I'm talking loud, not saying much
I'm criticized but all your bullets ricochet
You shoot me down, but I get up

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium

"Damn right." I whispered to myself.

***

Roughly 120 hours until you come home-Max

Immediately, my phone's screen lit up.
"Hello, prince."
"It's King Henry to you, Miss Mitchell."
"How's England?"
"You're not here, so in my books it's terrible."
"You'll be home in no time."
"Home." he whispered.
"Sounds nice, doesn't it?"
"Quite. What are you doing?"
"Laying in bed. I'm exhausted."
"It's only six o'clock there, yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm beat though, it's been so busy since I've been home. I also sleep like shit when you're not around."
"You're right about that. The days have been flying by. Ill be home before you know it. We're shooting out in the country for the next couple days, with no service. I'll call you when I can, ok?"
"Alright, Sugar. I love you."
"I love you too, get some rest."

I barely hit the pillow, and was out like a light.

***

The next morning, I woke up feeling like the sleep I'd gotten wasn't nearly enough. I'd had well over twelve hours of it, yet it felt like I hadn't slept at all. Really, what I wanted to do was lay in bed and watch tv and nap. So I decided to do just that.

Wendy picked up the phone on the first ring.
"I'm feeling awful today, could you please move my appointments to another day? Saturday if need be?"
"Sure boss. Is everything ok?"
"I think so, I just don't feel well. I'm chalking it up to working too much."
"Well, rest up so you don't get any worse."
"Thanks, Wendy."

I got out of bed, and went to take a shower, hoping that it would make me feel better. I cranked it up as hot as I could stand, and let it wash over me. It was no use, I still felt like warmed over death. I felt a pang of anxiety creep up, as I hated getting sick. Being incapacitated, and relatively worthless was the worst possible thing, and don't even get me started on the stomach flu. The nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach told me it was coming. There was nothing worse than that, to me. I didn't even get dressed or brush my hair after my shower, I just dried off and crawled right back into bed.

The television didn't have much to offer, so I popped onto Netflix and turned on Wallander, a blast from the past. Tom and his curly golden mop on the tv only made me miss him more, though. I let out a groan, and rolled over, pulling the covers over my head. Once again, sleep claimed me after only a moment's time.

***

"Maxine.......yoo hoo! Earth to Max." I opened my eyes to find Wendy's face, hovering over mine.
"Wha--what are you doing here?"
"Well, you weren't answering your phone and you sounded like shit earlier. I needed to make sure you were still alive." She said, as she plopped down on the foot of my bed.
"What time is it?"
"Oh, only about one in the afternoon."
"Seriously?" I shot up from my pillow, just barely grabbing the blanket to keep my naked self covered.
"Yeah. Tom even called, he was worried that you weren't answering your cell...what's up with you?" She asked, and put the back of her hand on my forehead.
"I don't know. I'm just so tired."
"Hmmm." She looked at me thoughtfully, "When did you get your period last?"

I have no idea.

"I can't even remember. It must have been before the incident with Paul."
She jumped up, grabbed her purse and flew down the steps as if I'd lit her on fire.
"I'll be right back."
Then the door slammed behind her.

I got up, and went to the closet and put on a simple knit dress. One look in the mirror and I was thankful that Wendy was the only person that had seen me. I looked horrendous. I'd fallen asleep on my wet hair, so it resembled something like a birds nest and I had pillow wrinkles all over my face. I leaned over and splashed my face with water, and the urge to throw up was too overwhelming to stop. Wendy returned to find me kneeling on the bathroom floor, puking.

Lovely. Just lovely.

"Oh my god, you don't even need this. I can tell."
She said and tossed a pharmacy bag at me, in it was a home pregnancy test.
"But I take the pill. That can't be possible."
"And you were also on a massive amount of IV antibiotics. Didn't anyone ever teach you about antibiotics and birth control?"
"No."
"Just take the test. I already know what it's gonna say, though." she left the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I stood, staring at the mirror for a moment, utterly petrified.

There's no way...

Is there?

I ripped open the test and emptied my bladder. Then, I waited.

After a moment's time, a little blue plus sign appeared on the test.

"Holy shit."