Voodoo and Vows by evergreenwriter83
Story Notes:
Runner Up: Best Action/Adventure - 2010 Felix Awards
Chapter 1 by evergreenwriter83
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Chapter One

“She’s possessed. I’ve watched Child’s Play a couple times. I’m pretty sure she’s a spawn of Chucky.”

Nick smiled. “She’s not the spawn of Chucky. God, Liv, I wish I could be there.”

Our daughter Brooklyn was six weeks old. For the first three weeks of her life, I was convinced she was a living, breathing angel. Then the crying had started. For the past three weeks she hadn’t stopped. Nick had been gone for two weeks. The first week he had toured England; now he was in Japan. It didn’t matter that there was a time difference; I seemed to be awake twenty-four hours a day. I turned my head as mom walked past the room, Brooklyn wailing in her arms.

“I bought her a kimono today,” Nick said, holding up an itty-bitty little floral kimono.

“It’s adorable,” I said stifling a yawn.

“Have you slept?” Nick said. I shook my head.

“Not really. I can’t sleep while she’s crying. Dr. Tresher said it’s colic. She’ll cry for hours on end. I’m surprised she hasn’t given herself laryngitis.”

“She’s got my pipes,” Nick said. “Do you need me to come home?”

I shook my head. “No, no one can do anything.” I closed my eyes and full-on yawned. I heard Nick sigh.

“I feel horrible.”

“It’s okay. You’ve got a job to do.”

“Yeah, well I hate being away from you. You know as tired as you look, you’re looking great.”

I stared at the screen incredulously.. He smiled. “Hey, it’s s been six weeks. I’m dying to make love to you and hold you in my arms.”

I looked behind my shoulder; Brooklyn’s cries seemed to be coming from downstairs. Mom was doing house laps again. I turned back to the computer screen.

“Nick, I’m so tired I can’t even think about sex. I don’t think I’ll be able to do it again. Ever.”

“Liv, it’ll be okay. I’ll be home in a few days.”

My mom had been with me practically around the clock since he left; we were both walking zombies. If he thought he was tired the first week of Brooklyn’s crying, he had no idea what was waiting for him.

My name is Olivia Ryans and I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind. I was sitting in front of my computer Skyping with my fiancé, Backstreet Boy Nick Carter, who at the moment was clear across the world. He was safe from the crying. He looked well rested; well fed. I hadn’t combed my hair or showered in three days, I was wearing a sloppy tank top with spit up and I was pretty sure my boobs were leaking. And yet Nick wanted to sleep with me.

Now that was true love.

“You know what today is?” Nick asked, leaning closer to the screen.

I looked at him in confusion. Truthfully, all of my days were running together. I shook my head.

“No?”

“It’s May 1.”

Even with extreme sleep deprivation, I knew exactly what he meant. I was just surprised he remembered.

“It’s been a year,” I said quietly.

Nick and I had met exactly one year ago today. I had applied for an internship for the Backstreet Boys This is Us summer tour. My interview had consisted of taking photos and video of the Boys. In absolute desperation I had asked the guys who would win a wrestling match in a large baby pool of vegetable oil. They were caught completely off guard and loved it.

“You know, I meant what I said,” Nick said huskily, breaking through my thoughts.

“About what?”

“You get my vote,” he said. I laughed.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How could I forget the day my soul mate came into my life?”

I felt tears spring to my eyes.

“Nick…”

“I love you, Liv. Try to get some sleep, honey. I’m worried about you.”

I took a deep breath. “I love you too, Nick.”

We blew each other a kiss before we disconnected. I leaned back in the chair feeling like I had run a marathon. Brooklyn’s cries got louder and louder as my mom walked back up the stairs.

“Liv? You want to take her?”

I got up from my chair slowly and headed out to the hall. My mom had dark circles under her eyes; she seemed to be almost swaying on her feet. I held out my arms and she passed me my wiggling crying bundle.

“Oh, baby girl,” I said softly. “What’sa matter?”

Her face was screwed up so tight her nose appeared just a dot on the horizon. Her eyes had gotten bluer every week. It was like I was staring a miniscule, pissed off Nick at the moment.

I went through the routine I always did: first I checked for a soaked diaper (clean), then I tried feeding her (she turned her face away), and then I tried the bouncy seat. Nothing worked. I lay on my stomach, my face propped in my hands just watching her wail away as the seat bounced up and down.

Before I knew it, my eyes closed. Even with high pitched wails bombarding my eardrums, I think I fell asleep. I don’t know how long it lasted; the next thing I knew my mom was kneeled beside me with the phone in her hand.

“It’s the wedding planner,” she said. I moaned and rolled over on my back. Brooklyn had switched to a high C note.

“I’m going to have to call her back,” I said. My mom nodded and left the room. I flipped back over on my stomach. I slowly ran my finger along the bottom of Brooklyn’s foot.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I cooed. “You just need some sleep. Sleep is good.”

She sucked in a breath and my heart gave a leap. Her little eyes seemed to stare right at me; she almost seemed to be making a decision. Before I could react her mouth opened wide and another loud wail filled the room.

It seemed to confirm my suspicions; my little girl was possessed.

Mom had tried to console me by telling me I had colic when I was a baby too. Of course, my colic turned out to be severe lactose intolerance. Dr. Tresher confirmed that wasn’t Brooklyn’s case. She thrived off of my breast milk. She was like a little vampire without teeth. Sometimes she didn’t know when to stop. Of course, on the other hand, when she was eating she wasn’t crying.

And that was a blessing.

As she wailed away, I couldn’t help but think the day couldn’t get any worse. I thought too quickly. My cell phone vibrated in my back pocket. Thinking it was Nick, I pulled it out to see what crazy picture he had sent me this time.

It wasn’t a picture; it was a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?” I said over the cries.

“Hello, Liv.”

I pulled the phone away and stared it in disbelief. I slowly put the phone back to my ear.

“Hunter?”

“Yep.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I need a favor.”

“I don’t owe you any favors,” I reminded him. He had called at the wrong time; my bitchiness level was through the roof. He was the perfect person to take it out on.

“Listen,” he said with a sigh. “I sold the house and I need you to sign off.”

I frowned. “Why should I? It’s not like I’m getting half.”

“Don’t make this hard for me.”

I snorted. “You’ve made every step of this divorce hard for me. Oh, and what about that tape?”

While Nick and I were on the Backstreet Boys cruise in December, a fan had asked Nick what he thought of the tape of me that was making the rounds on the Internet. It was an old tape I had made for Hunter while we were married. He had gotten a nice payday by distributing it online.

“That was a mistake.”

“Hunter, that was more than a mistake. I don’t have the time to talk to you right now.”

“I’m in town.”

“You’re what?!”

Hunter had only been out of the state of Wisconsin a few times in his life and had certainly not been anywhere near the state of Florida.

“If I send these damn papers through our lawyers it’s going to take weeks if not months. I have people that want to close on this house next week.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Why aren’t you staying in the house with Jess?”

Silence filled the line.

“Hunter?”

“Can you meet me tomorrow morning or not? You live in Tampa right?”

“You’re in Tampa?”

Having Hunter in the same city I was in without Nick around was a little unsettling. I glanced at Brooklyn. Of course, no one would probably want to be around Chucky. I should probably be fine; no one would break into a house with a screaming infant that was louder than our security alarm.

“Can you meet me tomorrow or not?” Hunter repeated.

I bit my lip. As insane as it sounded, having an excuse to leave the house for one hour of silence, even if it was to deal with Hunter was appealing.

“Is this the last time I have to see you?” I snapped.

“Absolutely,” he said coldly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the McDonald’s on West Kennedy Boulevard.”

“See you tomorrow.”

I didn’t even realize Hunter hung up. I couldn’t hear the tone on the phone over Brooklyn’s wails. I scooped her up and headed downstairs to let my mom know she was going to be sitting solo in the morning. I found her slumped on the living room couch asleep. Before I could wake her, Brooklyn chose that moment to spit up on the front of my tank top. Mom snuggled deeper into the cushions.

I never thought I’d envy someone for sleeping, but at the moment I was completely jealous.

I knew someday I’d look back on today and laugh; but at the moment I felt more like laughing than crying.

Something told me having to deal with Hunter in the morning was only going to make it worse.


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