True to Dylan’s words I did block the number he sent the text on.
His response is to contact me a day later, rubbing in the fact that even after eight years he still knows my reactions to certain situations.
Honestly, what he said is bullshit, I mean if someone unwanted sends you a text isn’t dropping an instant block and delete your first reaction?
Anyways after that second unwanted text, I change my number... and lo and behold he contacts me again on the new number.
I’ve learned by now that powerful men like him have a way of getting information on anyone so I don’t question it. I do however effectively ignore his last ten texts for the last couple of days.
I have enough to worry about and he isn’t going to be my priority at this point. With Roberto suggesting we get married in a month and Diana’s parentage still under the wraps. It’s going to be a big deal when that blows up and I don’t want her apart of it...
So now I’m stuck between a rock and hard place.
I stare out the window of the vehicle sighing as my agent makes her way out of Starbucks. In one hand, she has three coffees in one of those four slots, paper cup holders and the other holds her smartphone, which she speaks furiously into.
“Here drink this,” the heavy breast, ginger says handing me a Starbucks cup as she slips in the vehicle. “You look like you need it.”
She hands one to the driver before telling him to get going, stating firmly that we cannot be late.
“Thanks, Andrea,” I say gulping the warm Mocha and she nods tapping away on her phone.
I take eager sips, moaning at the chocolate taste. I prop my leg on the other turning to watch the beautiful scenery of the famous Golden State pass as we drive by.
We are now on our way to The Ellen Show for my interview. It’s a bit late in the afternoon and I’m exhausted.
“Okay so, after the interview you have a photoshoot at Cambridge Essence and then a YouTube giveaway,” Andrea informs me as she now taps away on her tablet.
“Sounds great,” I state nonchalantly, sipping my coffee.
My body is running on E from yesterday. Andrea booked a lot of appearances in NY for me in that one day. I had to visit ten different bookstores to do signings, I had a radio interview and I had to go to the children’s hospital to read my children’s book, Little Fox for them.
Yes, I do have other books out there and no Tempted to touch isn’t my only book but it’s the one gaining the most attention. Therefore, my team pushes it more than the others.
I sigh as Andrea continues to read my schedule for the next two days. I pull the Gucci shades off my face and fold it into my black, crop-top. I listen to Andrea half-heartedly, staring at the scenery but something she says catches my attention and flares my temper a bit.
“What do you mean by Day 3?” I ask a bit perplexed. “Andrea I specifically told you not to book anything on that day.”
Andrea pauses with her brows scrunched in confusion. “You did not say that... No, no... Hold on...” she fiddles with the tablet before frowning. “Oh shit, you did.”
She looks over at me with an apologetic smile and a shocked look on her face. “I’m sorry Indie but I’m sure you can still go through with it... We’ll get you another —”
“Andrea I can’t reschedule. You’ve booked appearances for the majority of next week. I need a day to myself so reschedule everything booked on that day.” I state firmly.
“Indie that’s impractical!” Andrea counters, staring at me like I’ve grown two heads. “I can’t reschedule all these appearances without lengthening our stay and messing up the rest of the schedule! Be reasonable!”
“I specifically told you I wanted that day off Andrea! For the last three months, I’ve been working my ass off. My breaks consisted of two days and three nights, and I even missed a night because you overbooked!” By now I am leaning forward coffee cup clenched in my fist.
I take a deep breath relaxing my temper, Andrea doesn’t deserve all this misplaced anger. All the predicaments in my life are taking its toll and I need time to myself.
Leaning back, I calmly finish my rant. “I am not a machine, Andrea. I’m a human being I need a day off to myself so again... Reschedule those appearances or simply cancel them.”
The car is silent for a few minutes as she nods tapping away at her tablet and making some calls.
We soon pull up at the NBC studios, we pass the secured entrance before making our way to studio 11.
After entering the studio it’s a bit of a blur, I’m pulled into makeup and wardrobe which takes an hour and a half. I’m pulled out of my crop top and sweatpants and into a beautifully tailored suit with beautiful red bottom heels. They assault my face with the makeup fixing spray and I relax, happy they’re finally finished.
“So... I got majority of the appearances rescheduled while a few cancelled,” Andrea says less than happy. Cancelled appearances equal financial loss and Andrea hates when her work is flushed down the drain.
I would have felt bad if I hadn’t told her of my plans before this trip.
“That’s good,” I state looking at my now contoured face in the mirror. I looked beautiful but I hated makeup... well, a lot of it.
“But... There’s this signing for Little Fox at a children’s bookstore in the afternoon... Do you still want me to cancel it?” she asks looking at me through the mirror.
I contemplate it for a few minutes as the backstage crew briefs me on where to appear on stage and at what cue. I repeat the instructions given and the backstage manager nods, before screaming ’five minutes ‘til showtime’.
“What time is the signing?” I ask Andrea and she tries to hide her pleased smile.
“Three p.m. It’s fifteen minutes away from your hotel and the owner said twenty parents have already informed him that they’ll be there...”
I know she’s trying to egg me on so I don’t cancel another appearance and honestly, I adore kids so I wouldn’t have said no regardless.
“Fine, but I’m going on my own. No security, no press and no personal driver,” I announce as I make my way towards the area I’m supposed to enter the stage from.
“No press? Indiana, we need to boost your image! Having the press is a necessity!” she states trailing behind me.
“No, we don’t,” I say stopping abruptly, Andrea almost colliding with me. “We can always do a social media frenzy. We’ll have all the parents tag the photos taken with a #Indiana_A_Blake and a #NewYorkBestsellerNominee. This way we get the publicity and I keep my partial day off. Are we done here?”
She thinks it over for a second before smiling and nodding while clicking away at her phone.
“Good,” I say as my cue is given and I step out onto the stage waving and smiling.
“Indiana Blake, everybody!”
You’re my Honeybunch, Sugarplum Pumpy-umpy- umpkin.... You’re my Sweetie Pie... You’re my ...
I groan turning to my left as my body refuses to get up... My phone rings out disrupting the sweet quietness that the room previously had before abruptly stopping.
I lazily rub my eyes before stretching with a yawn. I look up at the ceiling, the sunlight brightly illuminating the hotel room. I bask in the tranquillity around me, no 3 a.m. wake up call, no Andrea and no worries.
You’re my Honeybunch...
And there goes tranquillity.
“Hello?” I answer groggily after picking up my phone.
“Momma?” I heard my little angel ask.
A smile graces my face and I turn onto my back staring at the ceiling. “Good Morning Ki-Ki.”
“Where were you? Mama and I have been calling you,” she asks and I pull the phone away looking at the screen.
40 missed calls
15 Missed WhatsApp voice calls
“I was asleep honey,” I state sitting upwards in the bed. “Tell Mom that I’m okay and not to worry.”
I yawn once more, pulling my tank top upwards to cover my exposed breasts. Rather than riding up, it always ends up going downwards exposing my breasts. I run my hand through my hair, pushing the sheets off my legs.
“So what’s up baby?” I ask happy to hear her voice.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen my daughter in person and I find myself miss her more and more. The last three months have been awful for us, we’ve barely spent enough time with each other. We used to see each other every day for a good couple of hours and she would even sleepover but now it’s a mere ten hours a week or two weeks.
I miss her so much.
As I sulk in my thoughts, I notice that there’s a momentary pause on the other line. When Diana finally speaks, I find my heart aching at the sadness in her voice.
“Momma, are you marrying Uncle Robbie next month?”
My voice fails me for a few moments and I find myself staring out of the room balcony.
“Who told you that?” I ask, thankful my voice didn’t tremble.
“Mama and Papa were talking about it,” she says with a tremor in her voice. “If you’re marrying Uncle Robbie, what’s going to happen to my real Daddy? Is Uncle Robbie going to be my new Daddy?”
Walking towards the balcony for air, I open the sliding door, stepping into the hot afternoon air.
“Momma, are you still there?”
“I’m here Ki-Ki,” I say sitting on the balcony chair. “We haven’t decided when we’re getting married yet, baby...”
“What about my Daddy?”
“Baby, it’s complicated. Your daddy and I aren’t together anymore. I’m with Uncle Robbie.”
When Roberto had first met Diana at age five, she had trouble pronouncing his full name so he told her to call him Robbie. After a while she started to add the title Uncle to his name, of course, he didn’t see a problem with it since he thought she’s my sister and he had every thought of marrying me in the future.
“So is he going to be my new daddy and what’s going to happen to my real daddy?” her voice is hysterical and I hated hearing the sadness and confusion.
This is happening all because I wasn’t brave enough to own up to my child and then I proceeded to lie to everyone, to my fiancé... and now I can’t even find the guts to tell her father about her!
“Baby, it’s okay... Mommy will fix it. Your daddy will love you and he’ll never leave you again,” I say firmly. “I promise. I’ll do everything I can.”
After that, Diana calms down and we talk about less stressful topics. We spend the next couple of hours having quality Mother-daughter time through Skype. The time almost flies as we converse and soon Andrea interrupts us.
She reminds me of the signing I have in half an hour and I regretfully had to cut our mother-daughter time short as I rush to get dressed. On my way out the door, my phone alerts me of a new message and when I look, it’s from Dylan.
I read the previous messages noticing that he had texted me a day ago that he’s in California more specifically Santa Ana for two days on business and that we needed to talk. Also, he told me that I should text him when I’m ready.
Thinking back at the conversation I had with Diana and the sadness in my little girl’s voice I decide to reach out to him. Using my phone, I pull up Google maps checking for food places where we could meet and discuss everything.
I’m ready to talk. I’m in Burbank. Meet me at the Story Tavern on 150 S San Fernando Blvd at 6 p.m.
I press send, my heart hammering in my chest anxiously. I close the door, walking down the hall towards the elevator. My phone vibrates as the elevator doors close. It’s Dylan.
Looking forward to it, Ana.
I lock the phone breathing heavily as my anxiety increases. This is it. It’s time I tell Dylan about his daughter.