His name: Ronnie Radke
Your name: Lacey Green
Age: uh…however old he is.
How you met:
I met the tall, rough-around-the-edges, heavily tattooed Ronnie Radke through my brother Max Green—who was the bass player for the popular band Escape the Fate—and was instantly smitten with this sexy leader of a bunch of bad boy rockers. He, likewise, was attracted to me.
After a particularly intense show, I was waiting in one of the band’s luxury hotel suites with a couple of drinks. It gets kind of lonely, just following the band around and not actually being apart of anything. I mean, Ronnie said he wanted to talk to me which meant…one thing: he wanted me to stay home in New Jersey.
So I was waiting, bored when tall, dark and handsome walked in; the man I’d come to love with a burning passion. He looked up at me with tired eyes, and gave a smile.
“Good show?” He pulled off his shirt, showing his ripped abs and many, colored tattoos. He smirks at my staring.
“Good show for you?” I blushed, crossing my arms and turning away.
He laughed. “Yeah, it was good. Max got carried away with doing all that ‘gettin’ ladies stuff.”
Ronnie tossed the shirt aside and went towards the bathroom, shrugging out of his leather jeans. Thank god he’s wearing boxers.
“Well, Max always did like to get his ‘groove’ on.”
“Yep. Actually, that reminds me. I wanted to talk to you about something.” He came over in those too-short, too-small boxers, but I couldn’t handle that.
“No?” His eyes grew confused.
“I can’t talk to you when you’re wearing boxers that short.” I covered my eyes, purposely acting coy.
“They make it easier to be on stage.”
“Yeah, and wear tight jeans.” Yeah, I was secretly jealous towards any woman who might come into contact with my Ronnie.
“Jealous?” Damn his mind-reading powers—not really, of course. We’re not in Twilight here, people.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me running off with another girl.”
“Oh, really? How?” Truth was, he was a ladies man, as well.
“Be my girlfriend.” That got me into the spirit of, ‘say what, now?’
“Be my girlfriend and no other girl will ever be a threat to us ever again.”
Us? I…god, I’m acting like a girl reacts to a marriage proposal—a crying, blubbering mess. Ronnie came over to me and stroked my face, cupping my face in his strong, calloused hands.
“So, Lacey, what do you say? Be my girl?”
Technically there would never be a time where a girl wouldn’t be a threat to ‘us,’ but I think that right now, this is a good enough thing for me. At least I’ll be with Ronnie.
“Okay.” He enveloped me in his arms and just let me cry out my happiness and joy.
I love Ronnie.
How it happened:
“Jeez, Ronnie, why do you keep doing this to Lacey? To the band? If you’re gonna do drugs and get caught, go fuck yourself somewhere else! You’re not gonna bring us down!” Max yelled at Ronnie, who just got bailed out of jail after a run-in with the law; I’m in ‘our’ bedroom.
“Oh, stuff it! It’s my life! I’m the leader of this band!”
“Really?! Says who?!”
“Said you guys at the beginning of this! Says me and says the rest of the world!” Ronnie’s tone scared me, really, it did. He never got this angry. Ever.
“Your life, as you call it, includes not just us, but Lacey, too! Did you ever consider how she feels about you getting caught with drugs, being thrown in jail, us having to bail you out all the time?! It’s a vicious cycle, man, one we’re all getting tired of!”
It went deathly quiet then, not a sound came through the door.
“Well, what do you expect me to do?”
“Quit getting in trouble.” Bryan said, the first time I heard him talk during all the yelling.
“You think it’s my fault? How I am?”
“Yep,” My brother said in his I-know-I-won voice. “Now go apologize to my sister. If she’ll have you, that is.”
Would I still have Ronnie for my boyfriend or would I banish him from my bed and my life? The answer was, of course, yes I would keep him. But the question was, was that the right choice?
The door opened and his tall, dark shape appeared.
“Lacey? You awake?”
“Yes.” There came a scritch-scritch, his hand running through his hair.
I pushed back the covers and walked over to him in my tiny nightgown. No one spoke as I stood on my tip-toes and pressed my lips to his, my hands clutching his tight leather shirt, which was difficult.
He placed his hands on my waist and lifted me into the air, my legs wrapping around his waist.
We fell onto the bed, and in a rush of hands, our clothes came off, and well…you know the rest.
How you found out:
Not long after that, Ronnie got busted in relation to the death of a man he didn’t know. This time he did go to prison. His release date was December 15th.
I was devastated, heart-broken, and just feeling lousy in general. I got sick nearly every morning, so much so, that Max, Bryan and Robert—plus Craig, who I sort of resented for taking Ronnie’s spot, thus kicking him out of the band—made me take…a test.
Yes, that’s right. I may or may not be pregnant with Ronnie Radke’s baby.
Turns out I was.
Bryan was the most sympathetic towards this bit of news. “Ronnie’s sort of a…guy with a chip on his shoulder.”
Max: “Lacey! How could you get pregnant with Ronnie?!”
Robert: “Well, you know…it happens.”
Craig: “Too bad.” He obviously wanted me. But I was effectively unavailable, thanks to Ronnie’s luck.
I called him later that week and told him about the baby.
“Really? Wow. I fucked up big-time, Lacey. I’m sorry.”
“Its okay, Ronnie.” I couldn’t say a thing other than this; already my hormones were more than usual. I might break down if I said anything else.
“No!” He half-yelled. “It’s not,” He lowered his voice to an almost-whisper. “I got you pregnant and I was too much of an idiot to realize how good I had it. I should’ve cut my bad habits before this, long before this. I do love you, you know.”
“I know that, Ronnie. The doctor said my due date was December 15th.”
He cursed. “That’s my release date.”
I was suddenly, overwhelmingly happy our baby would be born the day his or her daddy got out. I giggled. “I’ll hold her in.”
“It’s a girl?” He seemed sort of giddy.
“Not for sure, but it’s just a feeling.”
This time he laughed for real.
“I love you, Lacey. You really are amazing; dealing with this like you are, especially with a baby. So…uh, I guess I’m out of the band, huh?” He was; the band didn’t want to deal with this. But the friendship would remain the same…hopefully. My brother still wasn’t too happy with him.
I paused for a moment. “You saw the news?”
“Yeah. I’m apparently famous or infamous—whichever—in here.”
“Craig is okay. He’s not you, though.”
Silence ensued for a few minutes.
“Thanks. Listen, I gotta go, okay? The guards say it’s time to leave.”
“I love you, and Emma.”
“Our baby, silly. If it’s a girl, that is. You said it was, so it is.”
“Oh,” I laughed, smiling. “Love you…miss you.”
“Miss you, too.” And we were separated.
I was right; me and Ronnie were going to be having a daughter. Emma Marie Radke. Ronnie was a very proud, daddy-to-be. I think everyone in prison’s getting sort of fed up with how much he’s bouncing off the walls.
Being a model prisoner and doing rehab was hard, but the sonograms I sent everytime I had an ultrasound and my phone calls were his lifeline, his only reason for staying clean. He called our baby his “little butterfly,” ‘cause she liked to kick me a lot at night.
Max and the guys have been really good to me during my pregnancy, even though I had no reason to talk to them anymore—except my brother. Ronnie had found a new band that would take him in: Falling in Reverse. So I was somehow left in the middle, connected to both, but separated by an invisible wall.
“The ex-lead singer of the popular band Escape the Fate, Ronnie Radke, is being released today. He was arrested and convicted of narcotics and the involvement in the death of a man. He will not be returning to ETF, but rather, had found another band to play in. He also has a girlfriend, one of the member’s sister who is currently pregnant with the couple’s first child.”
I watched the perky blond news lady as she nearly attacked Ronnie with the microphone as he came out of the prison, cell phone clutched in his hand.
“I don’t like her, Ronnie.” I complained.
On camera and in my ear, he laughed. “Lacey, you don’t have to be jealous. Juliana isn’t a friend or ex-lover or whatever.”
“Lacey…” I huffed, ignoring the dull stab of pain in my left side.
“I’ll be nice.”
“Thanks. Max with you?”
He got into a cab, ignoring everyone but me.
“No. Robert is, though.”
Another, sharper pain struck.
“What?” Poor Ronnie. He sounds so worried.
“Ah, just a pain. No biggie.”
“No biggie?! Lacey! You could potentially be in labor! Let me talk to Robert! You’re going to the hospital.”
“Now!” So I handed the phone to Robert, who seemed surprised to hear Ronnie’s voice after so long. He just murmured agreements until my cell phone was snapped shut.
“Come on, Lace. Time to go deliver Emma.”
I’m surprised I didn’t argue. But the pain was increasing in intensity and frequency. Jeez, this labor thing really was not the coolest thing. Note to self: kill Ronnie for knocking me up.
“Keep her in, okay, Lace?” Robert said as he drove well over the speed limit.
I clutched at my belly. “What do you think I’m doing?!”
Once we actually got to the hospital, I was admitted to the maternity unit and prepared for the ordeal to come.
“Did you call the others?” I whimpered.
Robert nodded, gritting his teeth; I was clutching—no, crushing—his hand.
“Sirs, you’re not allowed! Sirs!” That could only mean one thing: Max and Bryan were here and maybe Craig, and sure enough they burst through the door.
Ronnie was at their heels, a total mess. He rushed over to my side, and kissed me gently, stroking my face. Rob gladly let Ronnie take over his place. The doctor came in and ushered the others out except for my rocker love, and determined I was ready.
Let’s just say that giving birth is SO not a walk in the park. Far from it. It was so awful, but when I heard the crying of my and Ronnie’s daughter, I knew then that it was worth all the pain and agony.
She had big, round brown eyes and tufts of jet-black hair; full, pouty lips, and creamy skin.
I held her close to me, marveling at her beauty. Ronnie was sitting on the edge of my bed, Emma’s hand clutching his finger.
“Oh, she’s so beautiful, Ronnie.”
“I know. And she’s all ours.”
Note: After Emma’s birth, Ronnie never touched drugs or alcohol ever again. Except on our wedding night…though he only had a little champagne. His family was too important to him to think about falling off the wagon. I was proud of him, and so was little Emma.