14
I wake up the next day to a host of messages from Melody. The first one pretty much sets the tone for the rest.
Mel: You owe me ten bucks.
I text her back: I’ve never been so happy to lose money in my life.
Her response pops up moments later: Have you seen the coverage?
Me: No. Just getting up.
She sends me three URLs with a short message: Call me once you’ve read them .
I roll out of bed and decide to shower later. I wander out to the living room and sit down with my tablet and phone, and go to the first of the sites. On it is the infamous photo of Lisa holding the baby out to Derek, with a superimposed hand giving her the bird. The headline says it all:
Lies, Damned Lies, and DNA. Derek Not Pops!
Apparently someone at the lab – or more probably Derek’s manager, in an effort to boost his publicity and keep him in the headlines – leaked the test results. There’s a picture of Lisa from her FB page holding up a red plastic cup, looking wasted and throwing a peace sign. The article, if you can call it that, is sparse.
I almost feel sorry for her. It’s got to suck to believe you found your child’s father, only to be publicly humiliated. Then again, the way she went about introducing Jason was about as below the belt as possible, so my pity only goes so far. Live by the limelight, die by it, I think as I go to the next site, which is more of the same.
I try to imagine what she must be going through right now – heading back to a home life that’s got to be terrible, a laughingstock and a reputation as a slut cemented online, no prospects and no father in evidence…suddenly my morning isn’t so bad after all.
The coffee maker hisses and pops, and then finally erupts the last of its payload into the pot as I read the third site, which is even less detailed than the last. But the comments are scathing, and I marvel at how mean fans can be. Everything from “I hope you die” to “That’ll teach you to ho around, now get a job, bitch.” I shake my head and pour myself a steaming cup of brew, glad I’m not involved in this brouhaha. Although a part of me feels sorry for the child, who hasn’t done anything to deserve any of this.
When I call, Melody sounds about as happy as I’ve ever heard her.
“Did I tell you, or what? Boom! Buh-bye, biatch!”
“Morning to you too, Melody.”
“Tell me you’re not doing the Rocky victory dance. Just tell me that with a straight face.”
“I’m just relieved that we can put this behind us.”
“Save that for the talk shows. I know you. Ten bucks, baby. Come to Mama!”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
“I’m just glad she got what’s coming to her. Payback’s a bitch!”
We continue on like this until she runs out of ways to chortle, and once she settles down, she starts in on me.
“So now what?”
“Now what, what?” I ask.
“When do you and Derek hook up again?”
I take a long sip of my coffee. “Not soon enough.”
“Do you have any plans? Tickets bought? Weekend getaways?”
“They’ve got me booked solid for the next two weeks, and I’m working with the band, trying to take it in a new direction. So I can’t take off.”
“What about him? Come on, I mean, you flew all the way there. You can’t tell me he’s busier than you are.”
“I think the problem is that he’s just as busy, but he doesn’t have as much clout with his manager or the label, so he can’t get away.”
“God, that’s terrible. I’d be going apeshit if I was in your panties.”
“I’m not super happy about it,” I concede.
“Well, then, do something. Move the mountain, baby.”
“Speaking of which, when will we be seeing more of you around here?”
“I so want to come down there. I’m bugging my mom every day. Using you as the excuse, of course. I miss my good friend and want to spend quality teen spirit time with you.”
“You left out the hot twenty-something producer, huh?”
“She might take it the wrong
I wake up the next day to a host of messages from Melody. The first one pretty much sets the tone for the rest.
Mel: You owe me ten bucks.
I text her back: I’ve never been so happy to lose money in my life.
Her response pops up moments later: Have you seen the coverage?
Me: No. Just getting up.
She sends me three URLs with a short message: Call me once you’ve read them .
I roll out of bed and decide to shower later. I wander out to the living room and sit down with my tablet and phone, and go to the first of the sites. On it is the infamous photo of Lisa holding the baby out to Derek, with a superimposed hand giving her the bird. The headline says it all:
Lies, Damned Lies, and DNA. Derek Not Pops!
Apparently someone at the lab – or more probably Derek’s manager, in an effort to boost his publicity and keep him in the headlines – leaked the test results. There’s a picture of Lisa from her FB page holding up a red plastic cup, looking wasted and throwing a peace sign. The article, if you can call it that, is sparse.
I almost feel sorry for her. It’s got to suck to believe you found your child’s father, only to be publicly humiliated. Then again, the way she went about introducing Jason was about as below the belt as possible, so my pity only goes so far. Live by the limelight, die by it, I think as I go to the next site, which is more of the same.
I try to imagine what she must be going through right now – heading back to a home life that’s got to be terrible, a laughingstock and a reputation as a slut cemented online, no prospects and no father in evidence…suddenly my morning isn’t so bad after all.
The coffee maker hisses and pops, and then finally erupts the last of its payload into the pot as I read the third site, which is even less detailed than the last. But the comments are scathing, and I marvel at how mean fans can be. Everything from “I hope you die” to “That’ll teach you to ho around, now get a job, bitch.” I shake my head and pour myself a steaming cup of brew, glad I’m not involved in this brouhaha. Although a part of me feels sorry for the child, who hasn’t done anything to deserve any of this.
When I call, Melody sounds about as happy as I’ve ever heard her.
“Did I tell you, or what? Boom! Buh-bye, biatch!”
“Morning to you too, Melody.”
“Tell me you’re not doing the Rocky victory dance. Just tell me that with a straight face.”
“I’m just relieved that we can put this behind us.”
“Save that for the talk shows. I know you. Ten bucks, baby. Come to Mama!”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
“I’m just glad she got what’s coming to her. Payback’s a bitch!”
We continue on like this until she runs out of ways to chortle, and once she settles down, she starts in on me.
“So now what?”
“Now what, what?” I ask.
“When do you and Derek hook up again?”
I take a long sip of my coffee. “Not soon enough.”
“Do you have any plans? Tickets bought? Weekend getaways?”
“They’ve got me booked solid for the next two weeks, and I’m working with the band, trying to take it in a new direction. So I can’t take off.”
“What about him? Come on, I mean, you flew all the way there. You can’t tell me he’s busier than you are.”
“I think the problem is that he’s just as busy, but he doesn’t have as much clout with his manager or the label, so he can’t get away.”
“God, that’s terrible. I’d be going apeshit if I was in your panties.”
“I’m not super happy about it,” I concede.
“Well, then, do something. Move the mountain, baby.”
“Speaking of which, when will we be seeing more of you around here?”
“I so want to come down there. I’m bugging my mom every day. Using you as the excuse, of course. I miss my good friend and want to spend quality teen spirit time with you.”
“You left out the hot twenty-something producer, huh?”
“She might take it the wrong
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