More will be added later. 
Looking back as she slept, glistening ringlets curled perfectly around her fingers, he imagined it was fate. The planets all converging and lining up, tugging at the fabric of life to make create something wonderful in the eye of a sorrowful hurricane.
It happened on one of those nights, when life was completely wrong, swallowed up by circumstance and politics and the confusion of war in distant places and too close to home. JC was driving. The subtle chill in the moist air and low air charged over the streamlined windshield new Mercedes convertible, dulling the volcanic rage that purpled his cheeks. He was literally shaking with rage, unable to control the slow, agonizing grinding of his teeth. They grated against each other, like tectonic plates.
The engine purred underneath the sleekly silver hood as he executed curves, zipping speedily through an intersection just as the light flickered from gold to crimson.
The irate voice, shouting in his mind smothered any horns from complaining drivers.
It didn’t start with another setback. There hadn’t been another gathering of the stone-faced executives.
They’re hadn’t been a large basket of exotic fruits and JC’s favorite tea delivered to his house with the newest release date printed in cold typeface.
He was painting, some abstract portrait of a woman’s eyes and as he glopped swirls of violets and indigos onto his unstretched canvas. His skin tightened with ire heat and he’d hurled the paintbrush across the room, streaking the walls with his brand new acrylics. He suffered in the cloudy murk of anger as it descending, suffocating like cotton filling his lungs.
An hour and 74 miles later, JC realized he was lost. He slowed from his barely legal speed and observed his surroundings: shadowy alleys and dirty brick buildings. He parked, warily turning to the right, watching a whirlwind of trash scuttle into the darkness. He sighed, the anger abating, replaced with a jerky anxiety. JC activated the navigational system on the dash and blessed Justin for the state-of-the-art Christmas gift. He paused as some global satellite calculated his position in the boroughs of Los Angeles.
Ashamed, he barricaded himself in the car, locking the doors and putting up the hardtop roof. An instant before the top sealed, his ears discerned a distant, strangled sound. Guttural and tremulous. The roof hissed closed and JC squinted, unable to believe the sound. He trusted his ears. JC, the producer, prided himself on near perfect hearing. JC grunted and exited the car, too ornery to just assume he was wrong. In the case of sounds, the symphonies of life, he needed to be right.
He eased unsurely over broken glass and soiled leaves. His eyes- now hazel in the low light- meandered back and forth, suspiciously searching for anyone watching the wealthy celebrity explore the back alleys.
He slipped between two ominous buildings groaning in the cold night. JC retreated further into the dimness. JC passed a dumpster, wreaking of rancidity and rotten things. He covered his mouth and scurried passed the unbearable stench. He heard it again: the weakest of whimpers. It was now strong, a desperate screech, finicky and shrill. The sound rumbled and JC followed, falling on his hands and knees as he tripped over a discarded crate. The pavement bit into his legs, clear through his carpenter pants, but JC knew what he heard. He crawled over the filthy pavement, throwing aside boxes and trash until he uncovered it: an infant crying out.
“Oh God….”
The moonlight shifted and JC could see tiny hands and feet kicking at the dirty blanket. He was numbed by shock, staring at the life discarded. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He shouted for help, but the streets were empty and the infant wailed on.
“Sweetie…shh, okay. Where’s your mommy, huh?” JC idly looked around for a woman, a body, but he found nothing.
He stood up, blinking from the chill of the wind and the little infant screeching for attention. With ginger movements, he picked up the carrier and again looked around for another living soul to share the burden. Again no one, he began shuffling unsteadily forward, sliding his feet and aching knees shakily through the dark, numb to it all.
His fancy automotive creation didn’t have a backseat, so he buckled the carrier into the front and climbed inside. The infant’s cries were harsh, frantic and painful. JC turned on the heat and curled himself around the carrier. The temperature on the dash was hovering at 50 degrees.
His own nieces made him nervous in a purely male way. But JC didn’t know if this one was hurt or sick. He didn’t want to hurt her- a girl judging by the litany of pink blankets.
But his heart broke as she cried, JC fumbled with the clasps of the car seat, wiping his hands on the thighs of his pants and he slid his hand underneath her arms, lifting her up and out. It was one of God’s miracles how tiny she was. He held her close to his heart, like Lance had shown him patiently with his new little niece and rocked, adjusting the heat vents to flow directly on him. Her fingers were freezing. He draped a blanket over her and hummed. Putting a little hand to his mouth and blew.
She calmed for a few moments when her little fists hit her mouth and she suckled, closing her eyes. JC took a moment to study her face. Dark brown and streaked with tears. She had full cheeks and a perfect nose, large black eyes that watched him curiously. JC noticed silky black curls poking through her the sea green hat tugged over her ears. JC continued the dance of bouncing and humming, the beige leather squeaking, as he awkwardly pulled out his cell phone and dialed nervously.
But hung up. “@#%$.”
Common sense told him to take the child to the nearest hospital, but his mind, stimulated by trepidation and befuddlement began leaping months into the future and picturing emotionless foster homes. He knew the system. He looked down at the beautiful face, dosing in his arms and cursed. JC couldn’t knowingly thrust a child into a loveless world.
He dialed again and prayed he’d get an answer. “You know I just got home an hour ago?”
“Lance. I need your help.”
“God, JC. It’s four in the morning,” Lance whined.
“I’m aware of that. You want to know what I’m holding right now? I’m holding a baby, man. A kid,” his voice shook and he shook his head, willing himself to feel the enormity of the situation later. “She was in the trash…”
Lance was uncharacteristically silent before he spoke up. “What?” he gasped.
“I found a baby. She was just laying out by a dumpster. And I can’t take her to the hospital. They’ll put her in an orphanage or something…”
“Okay…okay. Oh My God, JC. It is okay?”
JC dropped his chin to his chest and watched her suck on her tightly curled fists. “She seems all right. Just cold.”
“Give me two minutes and I’ll call you back.”
Lance called in three and gave him an address of his private physician. “Go in the back door and I’ll meet you there, all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
**
JC barely recognized himself. The comfort zone he thrived in had vanished in the instant he discovered a baby, helpless and freezing in the trash. The doctor led him into an exam room and left him for a reason he didn’t catch. JC was imprisoned by sterility of metal instruments and crinkled white paper. The carrier was still in his arms and he clung to it like a precious gift. The little girl screamed all the way to the doctor’s office and she was finally quiet, sucking on her fingers. His arms cramped with a purple ache and he relented, placing it on the table beside him. JC stared at the girl as she began to whine, her hands shaking. JC hushed her with a gentle voice and hurriedly unfastened her from the seat.
He took off his soiled sweatshirt and draped one of the hand-crocheted blankets over his shoulder, as he remembered his mother doing, and picked her up, his mammoth hands cradling her diapered bottom.
JC’s mind wrapped around the situation, he noticed the baby’s attire. She was dressed in a gorgeous little outfit, pink ruffles and sea green bottoms with a hat to match. Her feet were even covered with soft shoes. JC squinted at the car seat. It was the same brand that Joey had bought for Briahna. JC recalled because Joey spent hours pouring over customer reviews on websites before she was born.
One of the blankets was hand-made with silver-tinted yarn and intricate patterns.
The doctor came back in, immediately washing her hands in the sink. “Something happened to her mother,” he said softly. “Someone didn’t just leave her.”
Dr. Caspen dried her hands and approached the examination table. “Judging by her appearance and state of care, it is possible.”
She undressed the infant with skilled hands and let her shiver in her diaper. Her cries diminished to weak series of musings. JC brushed the pads of his fingers over her arm, hoping to offer some comfort. Lance arrived ten minutes later, jeans perfectly pressed. He kissed the doctor on both cheeks and spoke to her in Russian. A series of guttural sounds uttered from his lips made her laugh and nod. Lance turned to JC and smiled softly.
“You okay?”
JC shrugged. “I don’t know.” His legs idly kicked at the legs of the table. “I can’t, like, process this.”
“You’re knees are bleeding, man.”
JC glanced down and noticed the bursts of dark blood staining his ripped khakis. “I’m all right,” he replied dismissively. He leaned over, as the Dr. Caspen took footprints, coating her little heal in black ink. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s starving, but other than that? She’s fine. A little cold, but she’s in good condition otherwise.”
“That’s good. Really good.”
The baby was dressed and the doctor prepared a bottle of formula from the samples that poured into the office. She handed the bottle to JC, who already picked her up again. He teased her lips with the nipple and she sucked fiercely, hands tucked on either sides of her face, sweating with the effort. “She’s about fourteen days old. I can fax her footprints and photos to area hospitals, but…um, this has to be reported to the police. I called them when you came in…”
JC opened his mouth to protest, but Lance stepped in, hand on JC’s shoulder. “I understand. Thank you, Sam.” He turned to JC, his eyes soft and brows lifted innocently. “You can’t just not report this, Jace. Her mother could be looking for her,” he said.
He closed his eyes and inhaled. He always hated Lance’s perpetual need to live life by the very letter of the law. His very existence was governed by logic and order. He supposed he learned that from his mother, as well. “I know…but…they’ll put her somewhere…without…” His eyes filled on their own accord and he turned his head to look out the window as the sun began to rise, spilling colors into the dark night sky.
Lance hopped up on the table and waited with him, promising him that he had done his duty.
And it was done.
**
Emotions were raging like a black waterfall plummeting into a pit of uncertainty and powerlessness. The records were faxed as soon as the police arrived. JC’s heart shattered as the little one in his arms dozed- bottle empty and a line of rich white rumbling down her pristine chin. The officers, uniforms and detectives, swarmed around him, eager to question the jittery celebrity.
JC answered the questions carefully, spilling out the information as the memories faded in the wake of adrenaline and fear. He couldn’t remember where he’d found her, but Lance was now in his car, trying to pry the address out of the navigational system with several other officers.
“She was just there,” JC explained, ragged and exhausted. “I pulled up on this street and as I put the top up, I heard her, from the alley.”
“You heard her? And you said before that she was buried underneath trash and blankets?” The officer seemed skeptical.
JC growled, an evil sound produced in his throat causing the baby in his arms to jolt in her sleep. “I’m a musician,” he hissed. “I hear things, man. I really don’t understand why you guys are acting like I left the child out in the cold. I found a her thrown in the @#%$ gutter and I took her to a doctor. What’s wrong with that?”
“You left a crime scene, sir. We don’t reward people for that.”
“There was no crime!” JC shot back angrily. The detectives face tightened at the disrespect and JC immediately controlled his ton. “I looked for anyone, anything, I didn’t see anyone. I couldn’t see anything, but I didn’t see a body. I saw a baby in a carrier screaming.”
The officers flipped their notebooks closed and produced a card. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Chasez.”
“It’s CHA-ZAY.”
“My apologies,” He motioned to a female officer to take the infant.
JC licked his lips. “Where is she going?”
“To the hospital just to be checked out for our records.”
“For how long?”
“As long as the doctors can keep her. After she’ll be taken by the Department of Children and Families.”
JC pushed the officer’s hands away, batting at them impatiently. “Just wait! Go get the…um, the head guy. The det-detective.”
The detective returned and JC shifted her in his arms, moving her to his shoulder and patting her softly. “Yes, Mr. CHAZAY?”
“Can I keep her?” he questioned quietly. “Um, at least while you investigate or whatever.”
The detective was skeptical as he lifted his eyebrows and showed his hands into his pockets. JC noticed them flinching, biting their cheeks. JC’s face hardened and rolled his lips into his mouth. “I can get whatever things I need. I don’t really have anything on my plate, so I can be home and,” he waved his wrist around, “obviously, I’m loaded, so…”
Lance interrupted. “On the way here I picked up some baby things…formula, diapers, wipes, a little toy…”
The officers relented, working in the best interest of the child. JC filled out forms faxed over from social services, an emergency foster care license that would be processed as soon as possible, rushed by the severity of the system.
JC drove Lance’s PT Cruiser home, strapping the nameless carrier into the backseat. She slept in her carrier while JC showered, purging himself of the night’s filth and climbed into his enormous bed, placing her on a soft blanket and lining the floor with every pillow he owned. Exhausted, he fell asleep immediately, only to jolt awake every few minutes to check on the infant beside him.
After an hour of sporadic sleep, JC willed himself to relax and scooted up closer, throwing his leg over the decorative pillows that boxed in the little baby and he fell asleep, studying her serene face.
**
JC opened his eyes to an unfamiliar gurgling. The sun was low in the sky and he yawned, sitting up and smiling down at the baby that stared at him intently, kicking her legs.
“Hey there,” JC laughed. “I thought I dreamed about you…um…I need to call you something, huh?”
JC carefully scooped her up and sniffed at her bottom. “Ew, stinky. What did you do in there?”
Digging into the bag of supplies, he pulled out wipes and new pampers. He unfastened the adhesive strips and did his best to clean up the mess. It took a longer than he hoped and the little one began to cry. The diapers were too big and sagged between her wiry legs. JC fastened the straps tighter and put on her clothes from the night before, hoping they were clean enough. He picked her up and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I need to think of something to call you, munchkin. How about we pick out a nickname, until we find your mommy? What do you say?”
JC padded into his office. It had been his makeshift art studio, until he could have the rest of the basement finished. A desk and a computer sat on one end, everything was shelved and kept neurotically clean. On the opposite end of the room, his canvases and paints were leaned against the wall on a paint spattered tarp. He had a few pillows to sit and a smock. The windows were pushed open to allow natural light to waft into the room.
Cradling her in his arms, he began to think of something he could call her. “Um…Nia? I knew a Nia. She had a piercing in her nip…No. Marcy? Kayla? Samantha? Brynn?! Britney?!”
The baby began to cry in his arms, hands shaking and feet thudding dully against his bare thigh. JC giggled and kissed her forehead. “Okay, I’m sorry, baby. You’re right. I shouldn’t do that to you.”
A smear of purple commandeered his attention and he clucked his tongue with satisfaction. “Indigo.”
He placed the baby on his lap fingers gingerly supporting her back. His legs bounced on their own accord. “What do you think? I can call you Indigo for now?”
JC took Indigo’s sleepy stare as agreement.
He made a list of things he needed and got dressed while Indigo napped in her carrier fingers twitching with dreams.
They drove a Wal-Mart and JC struggled with the now fussy Indigo as she screamed from her car seat. JC cradled the fussy infant, rocking and talking to her as he shopped, but her wails ensued. His body tightened with frustration; face darkened with humiliation.
JC almost wished an aspiring paparazzi was wandering through the children’s section of the Super Walmart, if only to capture him snatching an pacifier off the rack and tearing into the package. Indigo took it hungrily, closing her eyes and sucking rapidly. JC sighed, at wits end, realizing that this was going to be much harder than he imagined.
He called his bodyguard’s wife, a close friend of his, and asked for help. Rita smiled, her beautiful eyes lightened up at the baby and she teased him about holding out on her. JC laughed, embracing her gently. It was only then, when Rita’s tender hands bathed a shivering Indigo, did he realize that he was utterly terrified.
**
All of his brothers arrived intermittently to support JC in his decision. Joey visited first, in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday. JC opened the door, his body heavy with fatigue. Joey took a single glance at the crescents of darkness under JC’s eyes and his feet, one bare, one in a house slipper and pointed rudely, chuckling and gasping for breath, mouth open wide, showing off perfect teeth and bright pink tongue. JC glared, seething as he covered a sleeping Indigo’s ear with his fingers and kicked the door closed.
Joey stuck his foot through it and entered, closing the door noiselessly behind him. “Sorry,” he whispered, more composed, but his eyes still danced with a malicious mirth. “Guess you’re the cursed one now…”
“Not cursed,” JC smiled ruefully. “And she’s not mine. I’m watching her…for her mom.”
Joey walked around to the back of JC and leaned over his shoulder, taking in a long look at Indigo’s face. “She’s beautiful, JC.”
“That she is. She was cranky today,” JC ascended the stairs, knobby knees poking through his mesh basketball shorts and Joey followed him, down the hall to the master bedroom.
JC had a set up a small nursery in the spacious nook overlooking wild grasses and pacific ocean. A colorful mobile of pastel animals hung from the slanted ceiling. The murky gray of the walls were covered with a swirling fleece blankets that brightened up the room. JC’s house was the epitome of the modernity, all clean lines and lack of clutter. It was ideal for a man that required everything to have its own place, including Indigo. Stuffed animals and a baby monitor covered a plastic organizer of little tee shirts, socks, outfits and pampers on top of two parenting books.
Joey’s brown eyes moved to the nightstand that was covered with empty baby bottles, wipes and wrapped up pampers. “You sure you’re not in this for the long hall?”
JC put the baby down, keeping his hand there as she stirred from the movement. When she stilled, he set monitor in the corner of the crib and herding Joey out of the room.
“It just wanted it to look homey.”
They flopped down on the buttery gold couches in the family room and JC sagged into the comfort, sinking deep into the cushions. He closed his eyes and fought much-needed slumber tugging at the backs of his eyes. He felt Joey’s gaze and the speech that was inevitable. He spoke instead, exaggeratedly inhaled, speaking tiredly. “I know what they’re thinking, Joe. It’s fine. Her mother is going to come. I’m just doing what I can until she does.”
“JC,” Joey’s voice was directly to his left, warm and earnest. “What are you going to do if her mother doesn’t come back?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet. I just try to get past bath time. She screams like a psycho…and,” he yawned, his eyes watering from the effort, “it makes my heart hurt.”
“I’m serious, JC. What are you going to do? You can just up and be a father…to a black child.”
“Joey, I love you for coming to visit, but I’ve had about ten hour’s sleep in the past week, so I’m gonna crash? Do you mind?”
“No…go ahead.”
**
Justin came one rainy morning, strolling into the house as if he’d lived there and hadn’t been on tour for the past three months. He slopped puddles all over JC’s marble flooring, but he smiled when he found JC relaxing, Indigo pillowed on his chest. JC was aware of his presence, but he was simply content to remain where he was.
Indigo provided a loving warmth that he’d never felt before. Her little fingers were curled around his tee shirt, one hand under her head. JC kept on hand on her back, sated by each breath. He almost wished Justin would go away. Almost. JC wasn’t surprised by the flash of the Nikon Justin had began carrying with him everywhere (Justin had been on an anti-paparazzi kick, taking pictures of them as they photographed Justin). He allowed Justin to take a few pictures, before he cracked one eyes, glaring at him.
His younger friend grinned, eyes a humming blue. His sweatshirt was peppered with dark smears of rain. Justin’s face was thin, cheeks warn down to the bone below. JC yawned, opened his eyes completely, squinting at the light in the room. “You’re drippin’ water all over my floor, @#%$.”
“Sorry. How’s the munchkin?” Justin asked softly, toeing off his shoes.
“Fine.”
“She’s lookin’ at me.”
“Her eyes are open?”
Justin made a silly face, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. “Yeah.”
“She’s snuggling then,” JC insisted.
Justin sat on the arm of the chair, his soggy sneakers now gone, and wiggled his toes. “How is she doing?”
“Great,” JC smiled. “She puts up with me and I enjoy the company.”
“And how’s the new Mommy doing?” Justin grinned, but JC knew the tone, knew that Justin covered up serious issues with a lighthearted joke.
Indigo lifted her head, looking up at him and JC sat up, handing her to Justin and retreated into the kitchen. “I’m all right, J. But I’m going to make you some food. Like a fat sandwich on a pork fat roll.”
Justin waved him off, following him into the kitchen.
JC placed a bottle of formula in the microwave waited for it grow warm. In the metal door, he could see Justin cradling the infant against his chest, kissing her forehead. “She’s adorable,” Justin laughed as Indigo began to grow impatient for her bottle.
JC capped the bottle, shaking it before testing it on his arm. He handed it to Justin and hopped up on the counter. “Joey thinks I’m crazy,” JC resigned.
“You are,” Justin agreed.
JC hopped up on the counter and bit his nails. “Would you do the same thing, Justin?”
Justin’s face grew stern and serious and he studied the child in his arms, pausing to think. “I’d like to think I would.”
**
Chris couldn’t make it. He sent JC a lovely lavender dress with a note attached, saying he was occupied. In Chris speak, it meant he met a new woman and would be tangled in the excitement of newfound love until she got tired of him. The dress was so exquisite, he let her wear it on her first Well Baby check up.
He bathed her early that morning, slathered her down in baby lotion as she suckled on her pacifier. In the two weeks Indigo had been with JC, she’d grown considerably. Her cheeks were more dramatic, puffy adorable jowls that JC loved to smooch. Her middle was more defined, her pudge poked through after she had her bottle. Indigo was quickly becoming a butterball.
JC brushed her hair flat against her head, slicking it down with water as Rita showed him. He found a pair of ruffle socks and paired them with faux satin booties. “Ugh…you are just…too adorable. There’s not a word for how cute you look.”
JC placed her in the middle of the bed, on a mound of champagne pillows and rummaged around the closet for his camera. He took a few pictures, his heart swelling with pride. Indigo frowned at the flash, weeping and kicking her legs. JC paused, counting in his head waiting for a full-blown cry. When her mouth opened and the loud wail thundered through the house and JC grinned. “Oh and I get tears too, I’m so honored, Ms. Indigo.” He took more pictures, finishing the roll and scooped her up, rubbing her down until she settled down, hiccupping damply against his shoulder.
JC headed into the kitchen and prepared a bottle of tap water. He hoped he could get her to drink a few sips. “Crying always give you hiccups, you goober. Drink it.”
The doorbell chimed and he ventured through the house into the foyer, checking the monitor. He buzzed the squad car in and opened the door as the detective approached.
JC held the bottle in place with his chin and extended his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you, sir,” JC greeted with a firm handshake.
“Please call me Ed. Wow! Look at her. She’s…grown.” Ed touched Indigo’s dress and smiled. “She looks well taken care of, Mr. Chasez.”
“Call me Josh, Ed. No one ever does,” JC offered. “Come on in.”
“Thank you. This is quite a home. It took me awhile to find it,” Ed’s eyes rolled upwards and around.
JC thanked him graciously. “You should have grabbed any 16 year old, somehow, it takes them no time to figure out where it is. I caught the little weirdos digging through my garbage again last month.”
“Maybe I’ll do that the next time. I just dropped by to clue you in on the investigation. I’m sure you’re ready to get your fancy life back.”
JC frowned at Indigo as she pushed the bottle away. He set it on the table. “I never said that, Ed.”
“Well, at any rate, we don’t have many leads,” Ed opened his notebook, flipping through the pages. “A car was found a couple of miles from where you found the little one here, stripped and abandoned.”
“How is it connected to me…erm, Indigo?”
“Indigo?”
JC pointed down at the child with a smile. “Long story.”
“That’s…different. Well, as far as we know? It doesn’t. It’s just the only lead we have at the moment. There were traces of gunpowder residue in the car, so there was definitely foul play. But that, right now, is all we have. No hospitals have stepped forward confirming that…Indigo was born there. We’re extending the search to state wide, instead of just the tri-county area.”
“Oh,” JC breathed.
“I don’t know…what you have planned. I have the numbers of several foster homes that are willing to take a child so small. I know you’re a busy man, Josh.”
JC stared at the paper in disgust, handing the piece of paper back to the detective. “Not that busy.”
Ed’s aging face frowned and he gestured to the chair beside him. JC nodded and he sat down, pulling the chair up, closer to the couch. “Josh. What I’m trying to say is that, we may never find her mother. She may never turn up, if she’s alive. You need to think about what you’re doing to do with a baby at 24.”
“I’m 27,” JC snapped petulantly. “I did the whole…adoption thing. I’ve seen those places, too many to count. I’ve seen the looks on their faces and how they grow up jaded and alone. Orphans always feel detached from the world. I’m not going to put her in some state facility, Ed. Just do your job, okay? Find her mother and reunite them. Please.”
Ed sighed and jerked at his tie. “Look at this baby, Josh. Look at her. When you found her, she had shoes and custom-made blankets and she was clean and she didn’t even have diaper rash. A mother like that…would fight to get back to her, to keep her safe. To protect her child. They’d do everything in their power to get back to her, right?”
JC glanced away and nodded, his eyes full.
“It’s been weeks and nothing. In cases like this, we assume the worst. We assume she’s dead.”
JC sniffled and wiped his nose, covering his red eyes with sunglasses. “She has a doctor’s appointment.”
“I’m sorry about all of this.”
JC carefully placed Indigo in her carrier and covered her with a blanket. “The sad thing is, I’m not. I’ll show you out, sir.”
That night, the dreams began.
The severity of the situation, the overwhelming possibility of a violent crime descended upon JC with the force of a nuclear bomb. He shoved the emotions aside in order to function and take care of Indigo, as well as his career. But the conversation with the detective opened old wounds, releasing new fear.
The dreams were vague snatches of visions, rotting corpses and terrifying screams. Shrieks that haunted him in the day, swirling around his mind. He had visions of men cloaked in black leather, soaked with blood, strangling and mutilating. Loose fingers and decomposing limbs.
He woke up, a burning scream in his throat, chilled and boiling simultaneously. JC always scrambled, tumbling out of bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, crawling over to the crib. He peered over the side, making sure Indigo was there and okay. He placing a shaking hand on her back, comforted by the rapid rise and fall of her little chest.
One night, JC’s screams woke up her from infantile sleep. She cried, tremulous and frantic as she did that bittersweet night she was found amidst filth and waste. JC, still covered in sweat, burning from his tips of his ears and deep in his lungs, scooped her up, holding her close. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Stupid Joshua, huh? Hollerin’ like that.”
Twenty minutes later, Indigo was still crying, large tears rolling down her cheeks. JC checked her diaper and offered her a bottle, which she spit out.
“Oh god, Indigo, stop this…please, come on.”
JC’s teeth clenched and he closed his eyes, pinching them together tightly. Indigo wailed on, fluttering her feet harshly against his thigh. JC put her down in the middle of the bed and closed the door and sat down in front of it. Thumping his head against the door. “@#%$, be quiet, please, please, please,” JC gasped covering his ears with his hands.
Indigo started hiccupping and JC dashed back into the room, snatching her off the bed. He held her up. “Please JUST STOP!” he hollered.
Indigo wobbled unsteadily in his hands, dark eyes flaring open and she sucked in a breath, before screaming that much louder. Dazed, JC inched toward the crib and stumbled down the hall towards his office/studio. He fumbled for the cordless phone, dialing, struggling to make out the numbers. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and sobbing unabashedly.
The phone rang in his eyes. “Pick up, pick up, pick up…”
“Hello?”
JC sniffled into the phone, hiccupping himself. “I shook her. I shook her. What did I do?”
“JC?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong, honey? What did you do?”
“In…digo….she won’t just…stop,” he panted. His heart pounded, slamming painfully against his ribs. “She…won’t…and I and her face….”
Lynn shushed him. “Calm down, sugar. Calm down. What happened? Where’s the baby?”
“She’s in her crib.”
“And she’s crying?”
“Y-yes…”
Lynn sighed into the phone and JC stood there, leaning against the doorway, trembling. “Okay…I’m at Justin’s, so I’ll come over okay…”
JC cried into the phone. “I shook her.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be right there.”
JC climbed under the desk, crazy and scared. Indigo still screamed behind closed doors. JC cried a bit too.
**
Lynn arrived with her son behind her. She took the stairs two at a time and hurried into Indigo’s room, closing the door behind her. Justin opened the office door, triangles of light gliding in behind him. He bent down, crawling and quietly settling beside him. “Jesus, JC,” Justin whispered, staring at his face. “Are you okay?”
“Her mother is dead…the guy…said she was dead…” JC stomach cramped and he grabbed Justin’s arm. “Someone killed her.”
“You’re just a little scared right now. You’re fine.” Justin held him close. “They found her?”
“No…they haven’t found anything. That seems w-worse somehow.”
Justin wiped JC’s face with the back of his sleeve and brushed his hair back. “Let them do their job, JC. Let them worry about Indigo’s mom. You’ll worry about you and that child in there.”
JC’s face broke again and he hid his face in Justin’s neck, unable to breath, but not wanting to. “I shook her. She just made me so…crazy, J. She’s scared of me.”
“Shh. Listen, man. It’s quiet. My mom’s got her.” Justin hugged him gently, folding him up in his arms. “You’re freezing.”
JC listened, relishing the silence. “I’m tired.”
“Nightmares?”
He nodded. “I wish they were nightmares…they’re worse than that.”
“Tell me…”
“…no…” he whimpered.
“Well, we’ll just sit here, then. Until you want to get up.”
JC rolled his lips into his mouth and refuse to speak. Justin kept his promise and didn’t prod. He just leaned his head against the wall, butchering JC’s songs, purposely singing them in different octaves and switching up the words. JC smiled through the cold and dark and stared out at the moonlit covered room. “What if I don’t want her mother found? Is that wrong?”
“Explain, C.”
“You know she recognizes me now? I come…into a room and she knows I’m there. She whines or coos until I pick her up. She touches my face.”
“You love her,” Justin said softly.
“I do.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t want her mom to come back or be okay. It means you’ve bonded with her.”
“She’s in my heart, J. More than anyone else has ever been. And she can’t even talk yet.”
Justin smiled. “Who would have thunk it? The right woman for your was a bald-headed fatty.”
“I want her mother to be found, but I don’t know what I’d do if she was taken away. I’d lose my mind, J.”
“Whatever happens, Josh. You know we’ll all be there.”
Lynn came into the room, carrying Indigo, who had been stripped to her diaper and wrapped in her bathroom towel, soft cotton hood pulled over her head. Lynn’s gray ARMY tee shirt was splattered with water, JC noticed as she gently sat on the bed, holding the infant easily in her arms. “She has a little bit of a fever. We took a cool bath…”
JC climbed out and stood up, feeling for himself. “She’s okay, though? I didn’t…”
Lynn kissed his cheek. “You didn’t do anything, sweetheart. You just got frazzled. It happens sometimes. I wobbled Justin around once or twice,” Lynn smiled nostalgically. “He just wouldn’t stop screaming and I didn’t know what was wrong with him…
“Hey…” Justin interrupted.
Lynn glared at him for the intrusion. “The little monster was just hollerin’ all night long and I thought he was dyin’ or somethin’. And I just shook him and asked him what was wrong. He was a year old and of course he couldn’t tell me,” JC giggled as Justin turned nearly purple and dramatically climbed back under the desk, boxing himself in with the chair. “He just screamed harder. But you know what was wrong with him? His poor little testicles were bunched up in his diaper. We used cloth back then. No wonder he was screamin’.
JC pointed and cackled at Justin as he rocked back in forth under the desk, knees pulled up to his chest. Indigo whimpered in Lynn’s arms and she reluctantly handed her to JC’. “Hey buttercup. I’m sorry, ya know?” Indigo’s dark eyes stared at him, unblinkingly. JC kissed her nose and she cooed in a pitch that melted JC’s heart. “Love you too.”
**
JC bounced Indigo a 10-week old Indigo on his knee as he dialed Detective Ed. She clutched his fingers, emoting loudly, doing her best to learn how to laugh. “You’re almost there, puddin’,” JC grinned as the phone rang.
“Detective Donovan, Los Angeles Police Department…”
“Good morning, Ed. It’s Josh Chasez,” he greeted.
“Oh, hello, Josh. It’s been a while. How’s the little one?”
“Not so little anymore…” JC joked. “She’s fat.”
Ed laughed, guttural and raspy. “Well fat is good.”
“I just called…to um, yeah, I wanted to see how the investigation was going?” JC asked nervously. His leg bounced harder and Indigo began to cooed, enjoyed the tremulous sound of her voice.
Ed sighed and JC heard the squeak of a file folder open. After a few moments, Ed spoke again. “We haven’t found much of anything, JC. The only lead we had, the stripped car, was clean, besides the traces of gunpowder. Again, the hospital searches…no one’s replying,” Ed summarized bleakly.
“Oh…well. Um,” JC licked his lips and scratched the side of his face. “I just called to tell you, um, that I decided to see if I can adopt Indigo, so…I don’t know if that helps any.”
“You have! Of course it helps. It offers some kind of closure in this mess. It really does, Josh.”
JC smiled, grabbing a pen as Indigo slapped clammy hands against the desk. “I’m glad…there’s still a lot of legal hoops I have to jump through, but yeah, hopefully one day she’ll be…mine.”
Ed laughed again, rich and hearty. “This really makes my day, Josh. We rarely have people that just up and vanish, so yeah. I’m glad for you both.”
“Thank you. Have a good day, Ed.”
“You too. And congrats on your album going platinum.”
“You keep up with that crap, huh? Thank you.”
“Keep in touch, Josh. Really, if you have time for an old @#%$ like me.”
JC shook his head. “You’re invited to her adoption party, man.”
**
He had to make visible efforts to find any member of Indigo’s family, for the court records. JC’s lawyer had been optimistic that he would receive custody because no one even knew if Indigo was born in the states. There was no record of her and the search had extended all the way to the Eastern Seaboard.
JC placed 53 ads in newspapers across the country.
JC spent $37,000 of his own dollars to hire a private investigator.
JC was planning to go public.
JC herded his small entourage into the a quaint studio in downtown New York, carrying Indigo in her babypack that nestled her close to his heart. Rita had volunteered to become Indigo’s nanny while JC was traveling. JC was more than thrilled to have a woman of color as a constant in Indigo’s life. It was so important to him that Indigo understood where she came from.
He relinquished the pudgy infant and sat down for his make up, handing over the diaper bag. “She has some diaper rash that just won’t go away, so cream her booty for me, sugar.”
Rita grinned. “Oh, can I?”
“I never thought I’d hear JC, that called Bree gross for the first week of her life, talk about creaming any baby’s booty.”
JC’s azure eyes flickered up to the mirror, face rigid as the assistant applied make-up. Chris Kirkpatrick grinned in the mirror behind him, an extra twenty pounds and a permanent grin attached to his face. His goatee was thick, hornlets sprouting from both sides of his chin. “Oh god, someone @#%$ you hard,” JC blurted out. The assistant fumed and he raised his eyes. “Sorry miss.”
“Lyla.”
“I’m not a dog, I promise.”
She smiled, easily charmed. “I never go by first impressions anyway.”
“Good rule.”
“Be still.”
JC’s eyes bored into Chris, through the mirror. He grunted.
Chris grinned, adjusting the baseball cap low on his forehead. “She’s fantastic, C. She doesn’t even care that I look more like a blowfish than a flamin’ boybander.”
“You haven’t gained that much,” JC disagreed as Lyla moved to his hair that was growing long and curly once more.
“Long time no see, man.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about bailing on you and the kid. The pictures you emailed were too cute for comfort, dude,” Chris gushed. “She’s like, waay cuter than Briahna.”
“I know,” he bragged.
“So what’s this…whole deal about? Lance said you were here, so…”
JC played with the ripped edges of his jeans, tugging at the frayed ends. “RollingStone. Indigo is going to be in there with me…and then I’m filming a commercial.”
“A commercial?”
“Yeah, I have to for the adoption. I have to make, like, a huge effort to find her parents.”
Chris pulled up a stool, dragging it across the cold cement floor. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re adopting the munchkin?” Chris shrieked.
JC simpered smugly. “Yeah, dude. Didn’t J tell you?”
“He told me, I thought he was drunk or something,” Chris sneered. “I gotta meet the little bugger.”
“I’ll show you when I’m done with this. I gotta comb her hair and stuff too,” JC said.
Lyla tapped his shoulder with the comb. “I’m all done, Mr. Chasez.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lyla,” JC winked and ushered Chris to the small lounge area of the studio. Indigo was stretched out on a blanket, on her stomach, indulging in some valuable tummy time. Her head lifted even higher as JC entered the room and she cooed, gurgling and bouncing. “Hey you little monster, you want to meet your Uncle Chris? Huh?”
JC held her up to Chris, who took her gingerly. “Um, Jace, I hate to tell you this, man. But she’s black.”
“You don’t say? I’m colorblind, dude.”
Chris fell into a chair and sat her down in his lap, staring at her face as she played with his fingers. “She’s…beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious. You’ve taken great care of her,” Chris gasped.
JC unzipped a small dry cleaning bag and pulled out a stunning black jumper dress with an iridescent black ribbon and a soft ruffle at the bottom. He paired it with a turtleneck patterned with multi-colored hearts. “Give her here for a second,” JC beckoned.
Chris handed her over, watching as JC growled playfully nibbling on her cheeks. He changed her from her blue velour baby jumpsuit and wrestled her into her clothes, talking to her animatedly. “You’re going to get your pictures in a magazine, puddin’. And then, Uncle Chris is takin’ us out to dinner. Yes, he is. He’s silly, huh?”
Chris watched in amazement as JC brushed her head full of glistening ringlets, smoothing them down neatly and then put on a pair of black patent leather mary janes. “She needs a bow,” JC grumbled.
“I never thought I’d see you in father-mode, JC.”
JC cleaned up the mess, handing Indigo her favorite plush animal: a colorful stuffed fish his mother had sent in a care package. “Me either.”
**
JC was uncharacteristically uncomfortable during the photo shoot. He fidgeted on the stool, smoothing down Indigo’s dress and fixing her curls. She played happily, sucking on JC’s fingers, and fingering the buttons on his shirt or licking the black velvet of his jacket. She was content, tucked deep in the pocket of JC’s arms.
“Relax, JC. It’s okay…”
“I’m trying.”
The photographer lowered his camera, eyes sparkling. “She’s a gorgeous baby, man,” he began softly, moving in closer, sitting down on a wheeled stool. His camera rested on his thigh and he sat, open and unarmed.
“Thank you.”
“I have three children myself. Twin boys, then a girl. They’re all rugrats,” he joked.
JC glanced down at Indigo. She cooed, flapping her hands. JC watched her, amazed that she was there in his life. Her mindless gurgling was a heavenly symphony. Indigo’s head tilted back and she looked deeply into JC’s face. The photographer leaned in and snapped a picture, setting the camera down again.
“You think she knows I’m a different color?”
The photographer snorted. “No. My sons are three and they don’t realize my best friend is Chinese. He’s just the guy that takes them to the park and lets them eat ice cream. Babies are like that. They don’t care if you have gills as long as you love them.”
Indigo fussed, whining- a stern warning that a thunderous cry was merely seconds away. JC checked his watch and held her against his check. Indigo turned her head into JC’s neck and for a moment, as her breath feathered against his skin, he closed his eyes, savor the feeling. The photographer captured more images, but when JC’s eyes opened, he quickly placed the camera down.
“How old is she now?”
“11 weeks, almost twelve. I still don’t know when her birthday is or anything, but we’re just assuming she was born exactly two weeks from the day I found her. Which was Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh, okay. Indigo is an interesting name. How’d you come up with that?”
JC shrugged, his hands rubbing intricate patterns on Indigo’s back. The photographer snapped a close up of his hands, even as JC watched. “I got angry that night,” JC slipped back into the memories, like sinking beneath the surface of stormy waters. “I was painting and just threw my brushes against the wall. They were streaked with indigo…and then I just left. I found her and of course, I had to call her something. So I picked that…I’m a dork, so.”
“That’s a neat way of doing it.”
“The walls still have those streaks. I don’t think I’ll paint over them,” JC replied, he glanced down at his lap and his hair flopped forward, dipping into his eyes. The photographer took a few more pictures.
“I think I’m more relaxed now.”
“Great…let’s go for it.”
The spread in RollingStone magazine was an ethereal, the black and white photos in the center of every page. With lack of color accentuated the bond between hopeful father and loving child. The commercials ran for a month, sponsored by charities that championed adoption as well as the Ronald McDonald House.
The police department fielded calls, but all were declared to be false leads…mothers in need of a child, or people hoping to exploit the generous celebrity.
On JC’s 28th birthday, he was declared the full and legal guardian of Indigo Lynn Chasez.
Detective Ed came to the adoption party that was held that weekend as promised. JC cried tears of joy as Lance and Chris presented JC with an enormous buttercream frosted cake, a picture of JC and Indigo printed on the front, pink and blue flowers decorating the sides. He blew out the 28 candles amidst the cheers of his family. His daughter napped in the arms of Justin, her godfather.
JC’s heart swelled as took pictures and hugged family, finally be able to be called Daddy.
**
One-year-old Indigo cried as she woke up on the tour bus, standing up in the crib bolted into the wall. Her Winnie the Pooh night light glowing in the corner. Her cheeks glistened with tears as Justin stumbled through upfront. Indigo sniffled and lifted her arms. “GeGe,” she mumbled pathetically.
“GeeGee,” Justin yawned. “Yeah, JayJay is here, you dyslexic booger.”
“Be nice to her, Justin,” JC said sleepily.
“Here, then,” Justin passed her to her father’s arms and JC kissed her nose.
“Close your eyes, baby, Daddy’s here.”
Indigo curled up on his pillow, tugging at her ears. She blinked in the rolling lowlight, staring out the window as the miles rushed past. JC’s eyes opened and he turned over, rubbing her back as he did when she was an infant. “Daddy loves you, you know that?”
Indigo grinned, tiny teeth poking through her gums. “Mama?”
“I didn’t know your mother, baby. But she has to be beautiful to make someone like you. I know that. But you have Mama Lynn and Grandma Karen and Rita and Uncle Lance and Uncle/Godfather Justin and Uncle Joey and Uncle Chris and your new Aunt Misha…you remember their wedding, right? Oh and Uncle Mike and Uncle Lonnie and Grandma Diane and Grandpa Roy…you have so many people that love you and that will take care of you. A lot of people don’t have that, baby girl.”
“GeeGee?”
“GeeGee too.”
JC pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, daughter of mine.”
**
A month later, a woman believed to be Indigo’s mother was found in a lumberyard thirteen miles from where the stripped car was found. There were five fractures in the skull. With only a partial skeleton, forensics wouldn’t be able to successfully identify the woman.
It was the only closure JC found.
He attended the funeral, along with Ed and watched as she returned to the earth. Indigo slept in his arms, nestled in crook of her father’s neck.
He sat down in the grass, as the coffin was covered in a grave that would never have a name and promised that Indigo would be forever protected and forever loved.
What do you think?
Looking back as she slept, glistening ringlets curled perfectly around her fingers, he imagined it was fate. The planets all converging and lining up, tugging at the fabric of life to make create something wonderful in the eye of a sorrowful hurricane.
It happened on one of those nights, when life was completely wrong, swallowed up by circumstance and politics and the confusion of war in distant places and too close to home. JC was driving. The subtle chill in the moist air and low air charged over the streamlined windshield new Mercedes convertible, dulling the volcanic rage that purpled his cheeks. He was literally shaking with rage, unable to control the slow, agonizing grinding of his teeth. They grated against each other, like tectonic plates.
The engine purred underneath the sleekly silver hood as he executed curves, zipping speedily through an intersection just as the light flickered from gold to crimson.
The irate voice, shouting in his mind smothered any horns from complaining drivers.
It didn’t start with another setback. There hadn’t been another gathering of the stone-faced executives.
They’re hadn’t been a large basket of exotic fruits and JC’s favorite tea delivered to his house with the newest release date printed in cold typeface.
He was painting, some abstract portrait of a woman’s eyes and as he glopped swirls of violets and indigos onto his unstretched canvas. His skin tightened with ire heat and he’d hurled the paintbrush across the room, streaking the walls with his brand new acrylics. He suffered in the cloudy murk of anger as it descending, suffocating like cotton filling his lungs.
An hour and 74 miles later, JC realized he was lost. He slowed from his barely legal speed and observed his surroundings: shadowy alleys and dirty brick buildings. He parked, warily turning to the right, watching a whirlwind of trash scuttle into the darkness. He sighed, the anger abating, replaced with a jerky anxiety. JC activated the navigational system on the dash and blessed Justin for the state-of-the-art Christmas gift. He paused as some global satellite calculated his position in the boroughs of Los Angeles.
Ashamed, he barricaded himself in the car, locking the doors and putting up the hardtop roof. An instant before the top sealed, his ears discerned a distant, strangled sound. Guttural and tremulous. The roof hissed closed and JC squinted, unable to believe the sound. He trusted his ears. JC, the producer, prided himself on near perfect hearing. JC grunted and exited the car, too ornery to just assume he was wrong. In the case of sounds, the symphonies of life, he needed to be right.
He eased unsurely over broken glass and soiled leaves. His eyes- now hazel in the low light- meandered back and forth, suspiciously searching for anyone watching the wealthy celebrity explore the back alleys.
He slipped between two ominous buildings groaning in the cold night. JC retreated further into the dimness. JC passed a dumpster, wreaking of rancidity and rotten things. He covered his mouth and scurried passed the unbearable stench. He heard it again: the weakest of whimpers. It was now strong, a desperate screech, finicky and shrill. The sound rumbled and JC followed, falling on his hands and knees as he tripped over a discarded crate. The pavement bit into his legs, clear through his carpenter pants, but JC knew what he heard. He crawled over the filthy pavement, throwing aside boxes and trash until he uncovered it: an infant crying out.
“Oh God….”
The moonlight shifted and JC could see tiny hands and feet kicking at the dirty blanket. He was numbed by shock, staring at the life discarded. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He shouted for help, but the streets were empty and the infant wailed on.
“Sweetie…shh, okay. Where’s your mommy, huh?” JC idly looked around for a woman, a body, but he found nothing.
He stood up, blinking from the chill of the wind and the little infant screeching for attention. With ginger movements, he picked up the carrier and again looked around for another living soul to share the burden. Again no one, he began shuffling unsteadily forward, sliding his feet and aching knees shakily through the dark, numb to it all.
His fancy automotive creation didn’t have a backseat, so he buckled the carrier into the front and climbed inside. The infant’s cries were harsh, frantic and painful. JC turned on the heat and curled himself around the carrier. The temperature on the dash was hovering at 50 degrees.
His own nieces made him nervous in a purely male way. But JC didn’t know if this one was hurt or sick. He didn’t want to hurt her- a girl judging by the litany of pink blankets.
But his heart broke as she cried, JC fumbled with the clasps of the car seat, wiping his hands on the thighs of his pants and he slid his hand underneath her arms, lifting her up and out. It was one of God’s miracles how tiny she was. He held her close to his heart, like Lance had shown him patiently with his new little niece and rocked, adjusting the heat vents to flow directly on him. Her fingers were freezing. He draped a blanket over her and hummed. Putting a little hand to his mouth and blew.
She calmed for a few moments when her little fists hit her mouth and she suckled, closing her eyes. JC took a moment to study her face. Dark brown and streaked with tears. She had full cheeks and a perfect nose, large black eyes that watched him curiously. JC noticed silky black curls poking through her the sea green hat tugged over her ears. JC continued the dance of bouncing and humming, the beige leather squeaking, as he awkwardly pulled out his cell phone and dialed nervously.
But hung up. “@#%$.”
Common sense told him to take the child to the nearest hospital, but his mind, stimulated by trepidation and befuddlement began leaping months into the future and picturing emotionless foster homes. He knew the system. He looked down at the beautiful face, dosing in his arms and cursed. JC couldn’t knowingly thrust a child into a loveless world.
He dialed again and prayed he’d get an answer. “You know I just got home an hour ago?”
“Lance. I need your help.”
“God, JC. It’s four in the morning,” Lance whined.
“I’m aware of that. You want to know what I’m holding right now? I’m holding a baby, man. A kid,” his voice shook and he shook his head, willing himself to feel the enormity of the situation later. “She was in the trash…”
Lance was uncharacteristically silent before he spoke up. “What?” he gasped.
“I found a baby. She was just laying out by a dumpster. And I can’t take her to the hospital. They’ll put her in an orphanage or something…”
“Okay…okay. Oh My God, JC. It is okay?”
JC dropped his chin to his chest and watched her suck on her tightly curled fists. “She seems all right. Just cold.”
“Give me two minutes and I’ll call you back.”
Lance called in three and gave him an address of his private physician. “Go in the back door and I’ll meet you there, all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
**
JC barely recognized himself. The comfort zone he thrived in had vanished in the instant he discovered a baby, helpless and freezing in the trash. The doctor led him into an exam room and left him for a reason he didn’t catch. JC was imprisoned by sterility of metal instruments and crinkled white paper. The carrier was still in his arms and he clung to it like a precious gift. The little girl screamed all the way to the doctor’s office and she was finally quiet, sucking on her fingers. His arms cramped with a purple ache and he relented, placing it on the table beside him. JC stared at the girl as she began to whine, her hands shaking. JC hushed her with a gentle voice and hurriedly unfastened her from the seat.
He took off his soiled sweatshirt and draped one of the hand-crocheted blankets over his shoulder, as he remembered his mother doing, and picked her up, his mammoth hands cradling her diapered bottom.
JC’s mind wrapped around the situation, he noticed the baby’s attire. She was dressed in a gorgeous little outfit, pink ruffles and sea green bottoms with a hat to match. Her feet were even covered with soft shoes. JC squinted at the car seat. It was the same brand that Joey had bought for Briahna. JC recalled because Joey spent hours pouring over customer reviews on websites before she was born.
One of the blankets was hand-made with silver-tinted yarn and intricate patterns.
The doctor came back in, immediately washing her hands in the sink. “Something happened to her mother,” he said softly. “Someone didn’t just leave her.”
Dr. Caspen dried her hands and approached the examination table. “Judging by her appearance and state of care, it is possible.”
She undressed the infant with skilled hands and let her shiver in her diaper. Her cries diminished to weak series of musings. JC brushed the pads of his fingers over her arm, hoping to offer some comfort. Lance arrived ten minutes later, jeans perfectly pressed. He kissed the doctor on both cheeks and spoke to her in Russian. A series of guttural sounds uttered from his lips made her laugh and nod. Lance turned to JC and smiled softly.
“You okay?”
JC shrugged. “I don’t know.” His legs idly kicked at the legs of the table. “I can’t, like, process this.”
“You’re knees are bleeding, man.”
JC glanced down and noticed the bursts of dark blood staining his ripped khakis. “I’m all right,” he replied dismissively. He leaned over, as the Dr. Caspen took footprints, coating her little heal in black ink. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s starving, but other than that? She’s fine. A little cold, but she’s in good condition otherwise.”
“That’s good. Really good.”
The baby was dressed and the doctor prepared a bottle of formula from the samples that poured into the office. She handed the bottle to JC, who already picked her up again. He teased her lips with the nipple and she sucked fiercely, hands tucked on either sides of her face, sweating with the effort. “She’s about fourteen days old. I can fax her footprints and photos to area hospitals, but…um, this has to be reported to the police. I called them when you came in…”
JC opened his mouth to protest, but Lance stepped in, hand on JC’s shoulder. “I understand. Thank you, Sam.” He turned to JC, his eyes soft and brows lifted innocently. “You can’t just not report this, Jace. Her mother could be looking for her,” he said.
He closed his eyes and inhaled. He always hated Lance’s perpetual need to live life by the very letter of the law. His very existence was governed by logic and order. He supposed he learned that from his mother, as well. “I know…but…they’ll put her somewhere…without…” His eyes filled on their own accord and he turned his head to look out the window as the sun began to rise, spilling colors into the dark night sky.
Lance hopped up on the table and waited with him, promising him that he had done his duty.
And it was done.
**
Emotions were raging like a black waterfall plummeting into a pit of uncertainty and powerlessness. The records were faxed as soon as the police arrived. JC’s heart shattered as the little one in his arms dozed- bottle empty and a line of rich white rumbling down her pristine chin. The officers, uniforms and detectives, swarmed around him, eager to question the jittery celebrity.
JC answered the questions carefully, spilling out the information as the memories faded in the wake of adrenaline and fear. He couldn’t remember where he’d found her, but Lance was now in his car, trying to pry the address out of the navigational system with several other officers.
“She was just there,” JC explained, ragged and exhausted. “I pulled up on this street and as I put the top up, I heard her, from the alley.”
“You heard her? And you said before that she was buried underneath trash and blankets?” The officer seemed skeptical.
JC growled, an evil sound produced in his throat causing the baby in his arms to jolt in her sleep. “I’m a musician,” he hissed. “I hear things, man. I really don’t understand why you guys are acting like I left the child out in the cold. I found a her thrown in the @#%$ gutter and I took her to a doctor. What’s wrong with that?”
“You left a crime scene, sir. We don’t reward people for that.”
“There was no crime!” JC shot back angrily. The detectives face tightened at the disrespect and JC immediately controlled his ton. “I looked for anyone, anything, I didn’t see anyone. I couldn’t see anything, but I didn’t see a body. I saw a baby in a carrier screaming.”
The officers flipped their notebooks closed and produced a card. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Chasez.”
“It’s CHA-ZAY.”
“My apologies,” He motioned to a female officer to take the infant.
JC licked his lips. “Where is she going?”
“To the hospital just to be checked out for our records.”
“For how long?”
“As long as the doctors can keep her. After she’ll be taken by the Department of Children and Families.”
JC pushed the officer’s hands away, batting at them impatiently. “Just wait! Go get the…um, the head guy. The det-detective.”
The detective returned and JC shifted her in his arms, moving her to his shoulder and patting her softly. “Yes, Mr. CHAZAY?”
“Can I keep her?” he questioned quietly. “Um, at least while you investigate or whatever.”
The detective was skeptical as he lifted his eyebrows and showed his hands into his pockets. JC noticed them flinching, biting their cheeks. JC’s face hardened and rolled his lips into his mouth. “I can get whatever things I need. I don’t really have anything on my plate, so I can be home and,” he waved his wrist around, “obviously, I’m loaded, so…”
Lance interrupted. “On the way here I picked up some baby things…formula, diapers, wipes, a little toy…”
The officers relented, working in the best interest of the child. JC filled out forms faxed over from social services, an emergency foster care license that would be processed as soon as possible, rushed by the severity of the system.
JC drove Lance’s PT Cruiser home, strapping the nameless carrier into the backseat. She slept in her carrier while JC showered, purging himself of the night’s filth and climbed into his enormous bed, placing her on a soft blanket and lining the floor with every pillow he owned. Exhausted, he fell asleep immediately, only to jolt awake every few minutes to check on the infant beside him.
After an hour of sporadic sleep, JC willed himself to relax and scooted up closer, throwing his leg over the decorative pillows that boxed in the little baby and he fell asleep, studying her serene face.
**
JC opened his eyes to an unfamiliar gurgling. The sun was low in the sky and he yawned, sitting up and smiling down at the baby that stared at him intently, kicking her legs.
“Hey there,” JC laughed. “I thought I dreamed about you…um…I need to call you something, huh?”
JC carefully scooped her up and sniffed at her bottom. “Ew, stinky. What did you do in there?”
Digging into the bag of supplies, he pulled out wipes and new pampers. He unfastened the adhesive strips and did his best to clean up the mess. It took a longer than he hoped and the little one began to cry. The diapers were too big and sagged between her wiry legs. JC fastened the straps tighter and put on her clothes from the night before, hoping they were clean enough. He picked her up and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I need to think of something to call you, munchkin. How about we pick out a nickname, until we find your mommy? What do you say?”
JC padded into his office. It had been his makeshift art studio, until he could have the rest of the basement finished. A desk and a computer sat on one end, everything was shelved and kept neurotically clean. On the opposite end of the room, his canvases and paints were leaned against the wall on a paint spattered tarp. He had a few pillows to sit and a smock. The windows were pushed open to allow natural light to waft into the room.
Cradling her in his arms, he began to think of something he could call her. “Um…Nia? I knew a Nia. She had a piercing in her nip…No. Marcy? Kayla? Samantha? Brynn?! Britney?!”
The baby began to cry in his arms, hands shaking and feet thudding dully against his bare thigh. JC giggled and kissed her forehead. “Okay, I’m sorry, baby. You’re right. I shouldn’t do that to you.”
A smear of purple commandeered his attention and he clucked his tongue with satisfaction. “Indigo.”
He placed the baby on his lap fingers gingerly supporting her back. His legs bounced on their own accord. “What do you think? I can call you Indigo for now?”
JC took Indigo’s sleepy stare as agreement.
He made a list of things he needed and got dressed while Indigo napped in her carrier fingers twitching with dreams.
They drove a Wal-Mart and JC struggled with the now fussy Indigo as she screamed from her car seat. JC cradled the fussy infant, rocking and talking to her as he shopped, but her wails ensued. His body tightened with frustration; face darkened with humiliation.
JC almost wished an aspiring paparazzi was wandering through the children’s section of the Super Walmart, if only to capture him snatching an pacifier off the rack and tearing into the package. Indigo took it hungrily, closing her eyes and sucking rapidly. JC sighed, at wits end, realizing that this was going to be much harder than he imagined.
He called his bodyguard’s wife, a close friend of his, and asked for help. Rita smiled, her beautiful eyes lightened up at the baby and she teased him about holding out on her. JC laughed, embracing her gently. It was only then, when Rita’s tender hands bathed a shivering Indigo, did he realize that he was utterly terrified.
**
All of his brothers arrived intermittently to support JC in his decision. Joey visited first, in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday. JC opened the door, his body heavy with fatigue. Joey took a single glance at the crescents of darkness under JC’s eyes and his feet, one bare, one in a house slipper and pointed rudely, chuckling and gasping for breath, mouth open wide, showing off perfect teeth and bright pink tongue. JC glared, seething as he covered a sleeping Indigo’s ear with his fingers and kicked the door closed.
Joey stuck his foot through it and entered, closing the door noiselessly behind him. “Sorry,” he whispered, more composed, but his eyes still danced with a malicious mirth. “Guess you’re the cursed one now…”
“Not cursed,” JC smiled ruefully. “And she’s not mine. I’m watching her…for her mom.”
Joey walked around to the back of JC and leaned over his shoulder, taking in a long look at Indigo’s face. “She’s beautiful, JC.”
“That she is. She was cranky today,” JC ascended the stairs, knobby knees poking through his mesh basketball shorts and Joey followed him, down the hall to the master bedroom.
JC had a set up a small nursery in the spacious nook overlooking wild grasses and pacific ocean. A colorful mobile of pastel animals hung from the slanted ceiling. The murky gray of the walls were covered with a swirling fleece blankets that brightened up the room. JC’s house was the epitome of the modernity, all clean lines and lack of clutter. It was ideal for a man that required everything to have its own place, including Indigo. Stuffed animals and a baby monitor covered a plastic organizer of little tee shirts, socks, outfits and pampers on top of two parenting books.
Joey’s brown eyes moved to the nightstand that was covered with empty baby bottles, wipes and wrapped up pampers. “You sure you’re not in this for the long hall?”
JC put the baby down, keeping his hand there as she stirred from the movement. When she stilled, he set monitor in the corner of the crib and herding Joey out of the room.
“It just wanted it to look homey.”
They flopped down on the buttery gold couches in the family room and JC sagged into the comfort, sinking deep into the cushions. He closed his eyes and fought much-needed slumber tugging at the backs of his eyes. He felt Joey’s gaze and the speech that was inevitable. He spoke instead, exaggeratedly inhaled, speaking tiredly. “I know what they’re thinking, Joe. It’s fine. Her mother is going to come. I’m just doing what I can until she does.”
“JC,” Joey’s voice was directly to his left, warm and earnest. “What are you going to do if her mother doesn’t come back?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet. I just try to get past bath time. She screams like a psycho…and,” he yawned, his eyes watering from the effort, “it makes my heart hurt.”
“I’m serious, JC. What are you going to do? You can just up and be a father…to a black child.”
“Joey, I love you for coming to visit, but I’ve had about ten hour’s sleep in the past week, so I’m gonna crash? Do you mind?”
“No…go ahead.”
**
Justin came one rainy morning, strolling into the house as if he’d lived there and hadn’t been on tour for the past three months. He slopped puddles all over JC’s marble flooring, but he smiled when he found JC relaxing, Indigo pillowed on his chest. JC was aware of his presence, but he was simply content to remain where he was.
Indigo provided a loving warmth that he’d never felt before. Her little fingers were curled around his tee shirt, one hand under her head. JC kept on hand on her back, sated by each breath. He almost wished Justin would go away. Almost. JC wasn’t surprised by the flash of the Nikon Justin had began carrying with him everywhere (Justin had been on an anti-paparazzi kick, taking pictures of them as they photographed Justin). He allowed Justin to take a few pictures, before he cracked one eyes, glaring at him.
His younger friend grinned, eyes a humming blue. His sweatshirt was peppered with dark smears of rain. Justin’s face was thin, cheeks warn down to the bone below. JC yawned, opened his eyes completely, squinting at the light in the room. “You’re drippin’ water all over my floor, @#%$.”
“Sorry. How’s the munchkin?” Justin asked softly, toeing off his shoes.
“Fine.”
“She’s lookin’ at me.”
“Her eyes are open?”
Justin made a silly face, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. “Yeah.”
“She’s snuggling then,” JC insisted.
Justin sat on the arm of the chair, his soggy sneakers now gone, and wiggled his toes. “How is she doing?”
“Great,” JC smiled. “She puts up with me and I enjoy the company.”
“And how’s the new Mommy doing?” Justin grinned, but JC knew the tone, knew that Justin covered up serious issues with a lighthearted joke.
Indigo lifted her head, looking up at him and JC sat up, handing her to Justin and retreated into the kitchen. “I’m all right, J. But I’m going to make you some food. Like a fat sandwich on a pork fat roll.”
Justin waved him off, following him into the kitchen.
JC placed a bottle of formula in the microwave waited for it grow warm. In the metal door, he could see Justin cradling the infant against his chest, kissing her forehead. “She’s adorable,” Justin laughed as Indigo began to grow impatient for her bottle.
JC capped the bottle, shaking it before testing it on his arm. He handed it to Justin and hopped up on the counter. “Joey thinks I’m crazy,” JC resigned.
“You are,” Justin agreed.
JC hopped up on the counter and bit his nails. “Would you do the same thing, Justin?”
Justin’s face grew stern and serious and he studied the child in his arms, pausing to think. “I’d like to think I would.”
**
Chris couldn’t make it. He sent JC a lovely lavender dress with a note attached, saying he was occupied. In Chris speak, it meant he met a new woman and would be tangled in the excitement of newfound love until she got tired of him. The dress was so exquisite, he let her wear it on her first Well Baby check up.
He bathed her early that morning, slathered her down in baby lotion as she suckled on her pacifier. In the two weeks Indigo had been with JC, she’d grown considerably. Her cheeks were more dramatic, puffy adorable jowls that JC loved to smooch. Her middle was more defined, her pudge poked through after she had her bottle. Indigo was quickly becoming a butterball.
JC brushed her hair flat against her head, slicking it down with water as Rita showed him. He found a pair of ruffle socks and paired them with faux satin booties. “Ugh…you are just…too adorable. There’s not a word for how cute you look.”
JC placed her in the middle of the bed, on a mound of champagne pillows and rummaged around the closet for his camera. He took a few pictures, his heart swelling with pride. Indigo frowned at the flash, weeping and kicking her legs. JC paused, counting in his head waiting for a full-blown cry. When her mouth opened and the loud wail thundered through the house and JC grinned. “Oh and I get tears too, I’m so honored, Ms. Indigo.” He took more pictures, finishing the roll and scooped her up, rubbing her down until she settled down, hiccupping damply against his shoulder.
JC headed into the kitchen and prepared a bottle of tap water. He hoped he could get her to drink a few sips. “Crying always give you hiccups, you goober. Drink it.”
The doorbell chimed and he ventured through the house into the foyer, checking the monitor. He buzzed the squad car in and opened the door as the detective approached.
JC held the bottle in place with his chin and extended his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you, sir,” JC greeted with a firm handshake.
“Please call me Ed. Wow! Look at her. She’s…grown.” Ed touched Indigo’s dress and smiled. “She looks well taken care of, Mr. Chasez.”
“Call me Josh, Ed. No one ever does,” JC offered. “Come on in.”
“Thank you. This is quite a home. It took me awhile to find it,” Ed’s eyes rolled upwards and around.
JC thanked him graciously. “You should have grabbed any 16 year old, somehow, it takes them no time to figure out where it is. I caught the little weirdos digging through my garbage again last month.”
“Maybe I’ll do that the next time. I just dropped by to clue you in on the investigation. I’m sure you’re ready to get your fancy life back.”
JC frowned at Indigo as she pushed the bottle away. He set it on the table. “I never said that, Ed.”
“Well, at any rate, we don’t have many leads,” Ed opened his notebook, flipping through the pages. “A car was found a couple of miles from where you found the little one here, stripped and abandoned.”
“How is it connected to me…erm, Indigo?”
“Indigo?”
JC pointed down at the child with a smile. “Long story.”
“That’s…different. Well, as far as we know? It doesn’t. It’s just the only lead we have at the moment. There were traces of gunpowder residue in the car, so there was definitely foul play. But that, right now, is all we have. No hospitals have stepped forward confirming that…Indigo was born there. We’re extending the search to state wide, instead of just the tri-county area.”
“Oh,” JC breathed.
“I don’t know…what you have planned. I have the numbers of several foster homes that are willing to take a child so small. I know you’re a busy man, Josh.”
JC stared at the paper in disgust, handing the piece of paper back to the detective. “Not that busy.”
Ed’s aging face frowned and he gestured to the chair beside him. JC nodded and he sat down, pulling the chair up, closer to the couch. “Josh. What I’m trying to say is that, we may never find her mother. She may never turn up, if she’s alive. You need to think about what you’re doing to do with a baby at 24.”
“I’m 27,” JC snapped petulantly. “I did the whole…adoption thing. I’ve seen those places, too many to count. I’ve seen the looks on their faces and how they grow up jaded and alone. Orphans always feel detached from the world. I’m not going to put her in some state facility, Ed. Just do your job, okay? Find her mother and reunite them. Please.”
Ed sighed and jerked at his tie. “Look at this baby, Josh. Look at her. When you found her, she had shoes and custom-made blankets and she was clean and she didn’t even have diaper rash. A mother like that…would fight to get back to her, to keep her safe. To protect her child. They’d do everything in their power to get back to her, right?”
JC glanced away and nodded, his eyes full.
“It’s been weeks and nothing. In cases like this, we assume the worst. We assume she’s dead.”
JC sniffled and wiped his nose, covering his red eyes with sunglasses. “She has a doctor’s appointment.”
“I’m sorry about all of this.”
JC carefully placed Indigo in her carrier and covered her with a blanket. “The sad thing is, I’m not. I’ll show you out, sir.”
That night, the dreams began.
The severity of the situation, the overwhelming possibility of a violent crime descended upon JC with the force of a nuclear bomb. He shoved the emotions aside in order to function and take care of Indigo, as well as his career. But the conversation with the detective opened old wounds, releasing new fear.
The dreams were vague snatches of visions, rotting corpses and terrifying screams. Shrieks that haunted him in the day, swirling around his mind. He had visions of men cloaked in black leather, soaked with blood, strangling and mutilating. Loose fingers and decomposing limbs.
He woke up, a burning scream in his throat, chilled and boiling simultaneously. JC always scrambled, tumbling out of bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, crawling over to the crib. He peered over the side, making sure Indigo was there and okay. He placing a shaking hand on her back, comforted by the rapid rise and fall of her little chest.
One night, JC’s screams woke up her from infantile sleep. She cried, tremulous and frantic as she did that bittersweet night she was found amidst filth and waste. JC, still covered in sweat, burning from his tips of his ears and deep in his lungs, scooped her up, holding her close. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Stupid Joshua, huh? Hollerin’ like that.”
Twenty minutes later, Indigo was still crying, large tears rolling down her cheeks. JC checked her diaper and offered her a bottle, which she spit out.
“Oh god, Indigo, stop this…please, come on.”
JC’s teeth clenched and he closed his eyes, pinching them together tightly. Indigo wailed on, fluttering her feet harshly against his thigh. JC put her down in the middle of the bed and closed the door and sat down in front of it. Thumping his head against the door. “@#%$, be quiet, please, please, please,” JC gasped covering his ears with his hands.
Indigo started hiccupping and JC dashed back into the room, snatching her off the bed. He held her up. “Please JUST STOP!” he hollered.
Indigo wobbled unsteadily in his hands, dark eyes flaring open and she sucked in a breath, before screaming that much louder. Dazed, JC inched toward the crib and stumbled down the hall towards his office/studio. He fumbled for the cordless phone, dialing, struggling to make out the numbers. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and sobbing unabashedly.
The phone rang in his eyes. “Pick up, pick up, pick up…”
“Hello?”
JC sniffled into the phone, hiccupping himself. “I shook her. I shook her. What did I do?”
“JC?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong, honey? What did you do?”
“In…digo….she won’t just…stop,” he panted. His heart pounded, slamming painfully against his ribs. “She…won’t…and I and her face….”
Lynn shushed him. “Calm down, sugar. Calm down. What happened? Where’s the baby?”
“She’s in her crib.”
“And she’s crying?”
“Y-yes…”
Lynn sighed into the phone and JC stood there, leaning against the doorway, trembling. “Okay…I’m at Justin’s, so I’ll come over okay…”
JC cried into the phone. “I shook her.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be right there.”
JC climbed under the desk, crazy and scared. Indigo still screamed behind closed doors. JC cried a bit too.
**
Lynn arrived with her son behind her. She took the stairs two at a time and hurried into Indigo’s room, closing the door behind her. Justin opened the office door, triangles of light gliding in behind him. He bent down, crawling and quietly settling beside him. “Jesus, JC,” Justin whispered, staring at his face. “Are you okay?”
“Her mother is dead…the guy…said she was dead…” JC stomach cramped and he grabbed Justin’s arm. “Someone killed her.”
“You’re just a little scared right now. You’re fine.” Justin held him close. “They found her?”
“No…they haven’t found anything. That seems w-worse somehow.”
Justin wiped JC’s face with the back of his sleeve and brushed his hair back. “Let them do their job, JC. Let them worry about Indigo’s mom. You’ll worry about you and that child in there.”
JC’s face broke again and he hid his face in Justin’s neck, unable to breath, but not wanting to. “I shook her. She just made me so…crazy, J. She’s scared of me.”
“Shh. Listen, man. It’s quiet. My mom’s got her.” Justin hugged him gently, folding him up in his arms. “You’re freezing.”
JC listened, relishing the silence. “I’m tired.”
“Nightmares?”
He nodded. “I wish they were nightmares…they’re worse than that.”
“Tell me…”
“…no…” he whimpered.
“Well, we’ll just sit here, then. Until you want to get up.”
JC rolled his lips into his mouth and refuse to speak. Justin kept his promise and didn’t prod. He just leaned his head against the wall, butchering JC’s songs, purposely singing them in different octaves and switching up the words. JC smiled through the cold and dark and stared out at the moonlit covered room. “What if I don’t want her mother found? Is that wrong?”
“Explain, C.”
“You know she recognizes me now? I come…into a room and she knows I’m there. She whines or coos until I pick her up. She touches my face.”
“You love her,” Justin said softly.
“I do.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t want her mom to come back or be okay. It means you’ve bonded with her.”
“She’s in my heart, J. More than anyone else has ever been. And she can’t even talk yet.”
Justin smiled. “Who would have thunk it? The right woman for your was a bald-headed fatty.”
“I want her mother to be found, but I don’t know what I’d do if she was taken away. I’d lose my mind, J.”
“Whatever happens, Josh. You know we’ll all be there.”
Lynn came into the room, carrying Indigo, who had been stripped to her diaper and wrapped in her bathroom towel, soft cotton hood pulled over her head. Lynn’s gray ARMY tee shirt was splattered with water, JC noticed as she gently sat on the bed, holding the infant easily in her arms. “She has a little bit of a fever. We took a cool bath…”
JC climbed out and stood up, feeling for himself. “She’s okay, though? I didn’t…”
Lynn kissed his cheek. “You didn’t do anything, sweetheart. You just got frazzled. It happens sometimes. I wobbled Justin around once or twice,” Lynn smiled nostalgically. “He just wouldn’t stop screaming and I didn’t know what was wrong with him…
“Hey…” Justin interrupted.
Lynn glared at him for the intrusion. “The little monster was just hollerin’ all night long and I thought he was dyin’ or somethin’. And I just shook him and asked him what was wrong. He was a year old and of course he couldn’t tell me,” JC giggled as Justin turned nearly purple and dramatically climbed back under the desk, boxing himself in with the chair. “He just screamed harder. But you know what was wrong with him? His poor little testicles were bunched up in his diaper. We used cloth back then. No wonder he was screamin’.
JC pointed and cackled at Justin as he rocked back in forth under the desk, knees pulled up to his chest. Indigo whimpered in Lynn’s arms and she reluctantly handed her to JC’. “Hey buttercup. I’m sorry, ya know?” Indigo’s dark eyes stared at him, unblinkingly. JC kissed her nose and she cooed in a pitch that melted JC’s heart. “Love you too.”
**
JC bounced Indigo a 10-week old Indigo on his knee as he dialed Detective Ed. She clutched his fingers, emoting loudly, doing her best to learn how to laugh. “You’re almost there, puddin’,” JC grinned as the phone rang.
“Detective Donovan, Los Angeles Police Department…”
“Good morning, Ed. It’s Josh Chasez,” he greeted.
“Oh, hello, Josh. It’s been a while. How’s the little one?”
“Not so little anymore…” JC joked. “She’s fat.”
Ed laughed, guttural and raspy. “Well fat is good.”
“I just called…to um, yeah, I wanted to see how the investigation was going?” JC asked nervously. His leg bounced harder and Indigo began to cooed, enjoyed the tremulous sound of her voice.
Ed sighed and JC heard the squeak of a file folder open. After a few moments, Ed spoke again. “We haven’t found much of anything, JC. The only lead we had, the stripped car, was clean, besides the traces of gunpowder. Again, the hospital searches…no one’s replying,” Ed summarized bleakly.
“Oh…well. Um,” JC licked his lips and scratched the side of his face. “I just called to tell you, um, that I decided to see if I can adopt Indigo, so…I don’t know if that helps any.”
“You have! Of course it helps. It offers some kind of closure in this mess. It really does, Josh.”
JC smiled, grabbing a pen as Indigo slapped clammy hands against the desk. “I’m glad…there’s still a lot of legal hoops I have to jump through, but yeah, hopefully one day she’ll be…mine.”
Ed laughed again, rich and hearty. “This really makes my day, Josh. We rarely have people that just up and vanish, so yeah. I’m glad for you both.”
“Thank you. Have a good day, Ed.”
“You too. And congrats on your album going platinum.”
“You keep up with that crap, huh? Thank you.”
“Keep in touch, Josh. Really, if you have time for an old @#%$ like me.”
JC shook his head. “You’re invited to her adoption party, man.”
**
He had to make visible efforts to find any member of Indigo’s family, for the court records. JC’s lawyer had been optimistic that he would receive custody because no one even knew if Indigo was born in the states. There was no record of her and the search had extended all the way to the Eastern Seaboard.
JC placed 53 ads in newspapers across the country.
JC spent $37,000 of his own dollars to hire a private investigator.
JC was planning to go public.
JC herded his small entourage into the a quaint studio in downtown New York, carrying Indigo in her babypack that nestled her close to his heart. Rita had volunteered to become Indigo’s nanny while JC was traveling. JC was more than thrilled to have a woman of color as a constant in Indigo’s life. It was so important to him that Indigo understood where she came from.
He relinquished the pudgy infant and sat down for his make up, handing over the diaper bag. “She has some diaper rash that just won’t go away, so cream her booty for me, sugar.”
Rita grinned. “Oh, can I?”
“I never thought I’d hear JC, that called Bree gross for the first week of her life, talk about creaming any baby’s booty.”
JC’s azure eyes flickered up to the mirror, face rigid as the assistant applied make-up. Chris Kirkpatrick grinned in the mirror behind him, an extra twenty pounds and a permanent grin attached to his face. His goatee was thick, hornlets sprouting from both sides of his chin. “Oh god, someone @#%$ you hard,” JC blurted out. The assistant fumed and he raised his eyes. “Sorry miss.”
“Lyla.”
“I’m not a dog, I promise.”
She smiled, easily charmed. “I never go by first impressions anyway.”
“Good rule.”
“Be still.”
JC’s eyes bored into Chris, through the mirror. He grunted.
Chris grinned, adjusting the baseball cap low on his forehead. “She’s fantastic, C. She doesn’t even care that I look more like a blowfish than a flamin’ boybander.”
“You haven’t gained that much,” JC disagreed as Lyla moved to his hair that was growing long and curly once more.
“Long time no see, man.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about bailing on you and the kid. The pictures you emailed were too cute for comfort, dude,” Chris gushed. “She’s like, waay cuter than Briahna.”
“I know,” he bragged.
“So what’s this…whole deal about? Lance said you were here, so…”
JC played with the ripped edges of his jeans, tugging at the frayed ends. “RollingStone. Indigo is going to be in there with me…and then I’m filming a commercial.”
“A commercial?”
“Yeah, I have to for the adoption. I have to make, like, a huge effort to find her parents.”
Chris pulled up a stool, dragging it across the cold cement floor. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re adopting the munchkin?” Chris shrieked.
JC simpered smugly. “Yeah, dude. Didn’t J tell you?”
“He told me, I thought he was drunk or something,” Chris sneered. “I gotta meet the little bugger.”
“I’ll show you when I’m done with this. I gotta comb her hair and stuff too,” JC said.
Lyla tapped his shoulder with the comb. “I’m all done, Mr. Chasez.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lyla,” JC winked and ushered Chris to the small lounge area of the studio. Indigo was stretched out on a blanket, on her stomach, indulging in some valuable tummy time. Her head lifted even higher as JC entered the room and she cooed, gurgling and bouncing. “Hey you little monster, you want to meet your Uncle Chris? Huh?”
JC held her up to Chris, who took her gingerly. “Um, Jace, I hate to tell you this, man. But she’s black.”
“You don’t say? I’m colorblind, dude.”
Chris fell into a chair and sat her down in his lap, staring at her face as she played with his fingers. “She’s…beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious. You’ve taken great care of her,” Chris gasped.
JC unzipped a small dry cleaning bag and pulled out a stunning black jumper dress with an iridescent black ribbon and a soft ruffle at the bottom. He paired it with a turtleneck patterned with multi-colored hearts. “Give her here for a second,” JC beckoned.
Chris handed her over, watching as JC growled playfully nibbling on her cheeks. He changed her from her blue velour baby jumpsuit and wrestled her into her clothes, talking to her animatedly. “You’re going to get your pictures in a magazine, puddin’. And then, Uncle Chris is takin’ us out to dinner. Yes, he is. He’s silly, huh?”
Chris watched in amazement as JC brushed her head full of glistening ringlets, smoothing them down neatly and then put on a pair of black patent leather mary janes. “She needs a bow,” JC grumbled.
“I never thought I’d see you in father-mode, JC.”
JC cleaned up the mess, handing Indigo her favorite plush animal: a colorful stuffed fish his mother had sent in a care package. “Me either.”
**
JC was uncharacteristically uncomfortable during the photo shoot. He fidgeted on the stool, smoothing down Indigo’s dress and fixing her curls. She played happily, sucking on JC’s fingers, and fingering the buttons on his shirt or licking the black velvet of his jacket. She was content, tucked deep in the pocket of JC’s arms.
“Relax, JC. It’s okay…”
“I’m trying.”
The photographer lowered his camera, eyes sparkling. “She’s a gorgeous baby, man,” he began softly, moving in closer, sitting down on a wheeled stool. His camera rested on his thigh and he sat, open and unarmed.
“Thank you.”
“I have three children myself. Twin boys, then a girl. They’re all rugrats,” he joked.
JC glanced down at Indigo. She cooed, flapping her hands. JC watched her, amazed that she was there in his life. Her mindless gurgling was a heavenly symphony. Indigo’s head tilted back and she looked deeply into JC’s face. The photographer leaned in and snapped a picture, setting the camera down again.
“You think she knows I’m a different color?”
The photographer snorted. “No. My sons are three and they don’t realize my best friend is Chinese. He’s just the guy that takes them to the park and lets them eat ice cream. Babies are like that. They don’t care if you have gills as long as you love them.”
Indigo fussed, whining- a stern warning that a thunderous cry was merely seconds away. JC checked his watch and held her against his check. Indigo turned her head into JC’s neck and for a moment, as her breath feathered against his skin, he closed his eyes, savor the feeling. The photographer captured more images, but when JC’s eyes opened, he quickly placed the camera down.
“How old is she now?”
“11 weeks, almost twelve. I still don’t know when her birthday is or anything, but we’re just assuming she was born exactly two weeks from the day I found her. Which was Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh, okay. Indigo is an interesting name. How’d you come up with that?”
JC shrugged, his hands rubbing intricate patterns on Indigo’s back. The photographer snapped a close up of his hands, even as JC watched. “I got angry that night,” JC slipped back into the memories, like sinking beneath the surface of stormy waters. “I was painting and just threw my brushes against the wall. They were streaked with indigo…and then I just left. I found her and of course, I had to call her something. So I picked that…I’m a dork, so.”
“That’s a neat way of doing it.”
“The walls still have those streaks. I don’t think I’ll paint over them,” JC replied, he glanced down at his lap and his hair flopped forward, dipping into his eyes. The photographer took a few more pictures.
“I think I’m more relaxed now.”
“Great…let’s go for it.”
The spread in RollingStone magazine was an ethereal, the black and white photos in the center of every page. With lack of color accentuated the bond between hopeful father and loving child. The commercials ran for a month, sponsored by charities that championed adoption as well as the Ronald McDonald House.
The police department fielded calls, but all were declared to be false leads…mothers in need of a child, or people hoping to exploit the generous celebrity.
On JC’s 28th birthday, he was declared the full and legal guardian of Indigo Lynn Chasez.
Detective Ed came to the adoption party that was held that weekend as promised. JC cried tears of joy as Lance and Chris presented JC with an enormous buttercream frosted cake, a picture of JC and Indigo printed on the front, pink and blue flowers decorating the sides. He blew out the 28 candles amidst the cheers of his family. His daughter napped in the arms of Justin, her godfather.
JC’s heart swelled as took pictures and hugged family, finally be able to be called Daddy.
**
One-year-old Indigo cried as she woke up on the tour bus, standing up in the crib bolted into the wall. Her Winnie the Pooh night light glowing in the corner. Her cheeks glistened with tears as Justin stumbled through upfront. Indigo sniffled and lifted her arms. “GeGe,” she mumbled pathetically.
“GeeGee,” Justin yawned. “Yeah, JayJay is here, you dyslexic booger.”
“Be nice to her, Justin,” JC said sleepily.
“Here, then,” Justin passed her to her father’s arms and JC kissed her nose.
“Close your eyes, baby, Daddy’s here.”
Indigo curled up on his pillow, tugging at her ears. She blinked in the rolling lowlight, staring out the window as the miles rushed past. JC’s eyes opened and he turned over, rubbing her back as he did when she was an infant. “Daddy loves you, you know that?”
Indigo grinned, tiny teeth poking through her gums. “Mama?”
“I didn’t know your mother, baby. But she has to be beautiful to make someone like you. I know that. But you have Mama Lynn and Grandma Karen and Rita and Uncle Lance and Uncle/Godfather Justin and Uncle Joey and Uncle Chris and your new Aunt Misha…you remember their wedding, right? Oh and Uncle Mike and Uncle Lonnie and Grandma Diane and Grandpa Roy…you have so many people that love you and that will take care of you. A lot of people don’t have that, baby girl.”
“GeeGee?”
“GeeGee too.”
JC pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, daughter of mine.”
**
A month later, a woman believed to be Indigo’s mother was found in a lumberyard thirteen miles from where the stripped car was found. There were five fractures in the skull. With only a partial skeleton, forensics wouldn’t be able to successfully identify the woman.
It was the only closure JC found.
He attended the funeral, along with Ed and watched as she returned to the earth. Indigo slept in his arms, nestled in crook of her father’s neck.
He sat down in the grass, as the coffin was covered in a grave that would never have a name and promised that Indigo would be forever protected and forever loved.
What do you think?
Great
job!
At least
he has a great friend like JC to help him through a rough
time 
Here's another update. I have to get crackin' the new
one. 
