The Adventures of James Dean.

28.

Head pounding, I sat in the guest room, Kennedy's bed stone cold. She'd made the place her own, little photo frames filled with snaps of herself and Fiona, and their mother. And above her bed, the very first scan photo, framed in an unpainted wooden heart. I kicked my shoes off, laying down on the sheets, and my eyes catching sight of the time.

Five am.

I was becoming accustomed to seeing those digits. I dialled her number, sinking back in the bed clothes and catching a waft of her citrus perfume.

'James,' she breathed, the sleep in her tone unmistakable.

'Where are you?' I felt my paranoia and my possessiveness threatening a take over. I was the one that left her. I was the one trying to make sense of all this manic chaos. She wanted to give me some space.

'I'm with Lucy, she's a friend. I'm staying at her place. I thought it was best that I stay out of the way, what with the paps and all....'

'I miss you.'

That's the first time I'd ever uttered those words.

I swallowed the ginormous lump in my throat and ran my hand over my face. Something on the line told me she wanted to say something, but she left it unsaid. Right now, an 'I miss you too,' would have helped. Anything other than silence.

'Its gonna be okay.' She soothed and I sank back in the pillows, her pillows and sighed. 'I'll be there tomorrow, at work, and we'll sort out this mess.'

'I feel like I'm gonna lose everything.'

'You won't.' She yawned, and I heard the smile in her voice. 'Why don't you get a few hours sleep and I'll head over? Make you some breakfast? I'll even wear the beret if it helps.'

I chuckled, eye lids dropping. 'No beret, please no beret.'

'Sweet dreams Jimmy.' She purred, as my eyes gave in to slumber.

...................

Less than four hours later, I expected to wake to the scent of bacon, or her perfume as she leaned over me to kiss me. Instead, I heard the blaring of my ringtone yet again dragging me reluctantly from my sleep.

'James I can't get in, I'm in the car and photographers are everywhere. I'm worried that.....James I'm worried they'll react to me, and the baby, I feel like somebody followed me here and I'm just....' She broke off, and I heard her breathing, ragged as if she had been running. 'I'm gonna head into work, I'll pick you something up for breakfast....'

Her signal was breaking up. The parking lot below the building was notorious for that. I slammed my own handset into my forehead, and then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like quasimodos ugly kid brother. Bruising covered most of my face and when I looked down at the pillow, streaks of blood painted the white cotton. I hadn't even been aware I was bleeding. I had a shower, not that I could afford to roll in late, but I made myself feel like vomiting when I sniffed my pits. Shit I smelled rancid.

Like putrid fucking sewage. No lie.

The once well turned out, devilishly handsome James Dean in his Italian suits had been replaced, by this guy. I was gonna terrify a whole load of people down at the office. When I strolled into the living room, I almost jumped ten foot in the air when I saw my Dad standing there.

'Son this is big, when were you gonna call me?' his eyes roamed my battered face.

I threw my arms up in the air, as if to show him I didn't even know what the fuck to say. It was a catastrophic fuck up. And he knew it too.