Chapter Seven: Bombshell

"Ok, Pizzazz, what's goin' on?"

Jetta lounged in the doorway of her friend's bedroom, a questioning look on her face. "It's bloody new year an' you're 'oled up 'ere like some blinkin' 'ermit instead of joinin' in the party! What's the deal?"

"What deal?" Pizzazz raised her gaze from where she was curled up on her bed, flicking through a magazine with little interest. "There is no 'deal', Jetta, and what I do is none of your business! I don't have to do anything I don't want to do, you know!"

"Quit it with the brat routine. You know that don't work on me." Jetta said bluntly, coming to sit down in the chair opposite the bed. "You ain't never missed a chance at a party since I've known you! Please tell me you ain't missin' that Raymond creep now 'e's gone off to Canada?"

A dark scowl came over Pizzazz's features.

"Don't talk about him." She snapped. "Not now and not ever. He's a lousy no good creep and if I ever set eyes on him again then I swear to God I'll rip his throat out!"

Jetta raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to make a wry remark, when she registered what her housemate was wearing and her expression became one of incredulous amazement.

"What in 'ell are you wearin'?!" She exclaimed.

Pizzazz glanced down, shrugging.

"Dressing gown." She said defiantly. "Pyjamas. So? I'm tired, all right? I've been busy!"

"You weren't wearin' that at the start of the party!" Jetta looked confused. "What the hell are you doing? Throwin' a sleepover?"

 I've been trying to save the Misfits' ass, that's what I've been doing." Pizzazz shot back. "I've spent most of the last few weeks making sure we got our damn number one and you damn well know it, too! Plus I've been suing the ass off that Raymond creep for every cent he owns! I'm tired!"

"We're all tired, Pizzazz." Jetta said evenly. "We've all been doin' our bit at Misfit Music. 'Ell, even Roxy's 'ad a stab at makin' 'erself useful since Eric left. But things are okay with us now. Sure, the friggin' company is givin' me a migraine, but you've more than made it clear that's my problem an' not yours. You're not ill any more, your chest is fine an' you were singin' up a treat when we did that string of shows in October an' November. It's not like we've been out of action for years. The Misfits are buzzin' again an' our song is already a huge hit. We got plenty to celebrate, an' you want to go to bed? When we barely get a decent night off to party as it is any more?"


"Phyllis Gabor refuses a drink and a chance to fraternise with a bunch of young, available executives from Washington DC?"

"I don't want anything to do with them!" Pizzazz grabbed her pillow, slamming it down on the bed in her anger. "I don't want anything to do with any man ever, you hear me? Get them out of my house!"

"Steady on!" Jetta looked startled. "What in bloody 'ell is goin' on? You sound like you're bloody possessed or somethin'! Don't tell me you were actually in love with Eric or somethin'?"

Pizzazz's eyes narrowed.

"I have never been in love." She muttered, an almost bitter note to her tone. "I leave that to wimps like you and Stormer."

Jetta flinched slightly at this, her gaze narrowing.

"Okay, so what is it, then?" She demanded. "What 'appened between you two, then, that's turned you into the biggest drag this side of Cuba?"

"Nothing happened. He was my employee, he screwed over the company. He had to go." Pizzazz spoke in a flat monotone.

Jetta shook her head, letting out a groan of impatience.

"Quit sayin' that, when we all know it ain't bleedin' true." She retorted. "Pizzazz, we know you slept with 'im an' we know there was somethin' goin' down between you. I don't know why it 'appened and I'm damn glad you returned to your senses about 'im now, but there ain't no point in denyin' it, at least, not to us."

"Nothing to deny."

"Pizzazz, we know." Jetta responded.

Pizzazz opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it. She sighed, retrieving her pillow from the far end of the bed and stretching out on her front, resting her chin in her hands.

"So what if it did?"

"Well, apart from the fact he's America's biggest creep next to Rory Llewelyn, I wouldn't normally give a damn." Jetta replied. "It's your business, like Justin is mine. What bothers me is that since the court ruled in favour of us, you've been, well, some total other bird, to be honest. You ain't bein' Pizzazz at the moment. You're bein' damn Phyllis!"

"Don't you ever call me that again!" Pizzazz flared up. "I'm Phyllis to noone except my father, and don't you forget it! I..."

She stopped dead, the colour draining from her face as she did so. Sharp eyed Jetta was quick to pick up on it.


Pizzazz took a deep breath.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Pizzazz, spill."

"Why can't you just leave me alone, I'm fine, damn you, and...ah!"

She grimaced, putting a hand to her stomach. Now Jetta's impatience was becoming anxiety and she got to her feet.

"I'm goin' to get someone." She said. Pizzazz was alert in a second, grabbing out for Jetta's arm and pulling her back down.

"No you're not. It's fine. I'm okay." She said quietly. "Stay. It's gone away now."

The tone was so unfamiliar, so totally lacking in confrontation and petulance that Jetta did as she was bidden, staring at her friend for a moment in confused silence. Then,

"Well, are you gonna elaborate?" She demanded. "I think I deserve an explanation, don't you?"

"You deserve a slap in the mouth for being so nosy." Pizzazz snapped back.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Pizzazz nodded. "It's just...just cramp, that's all. Leave it, Jetta. It's nothing you need worry yourself about. It's my business, okay?"

"If it affects the Misfits, it's all of our business."

"Who said it will?"

"It already has." Jetta replied. "Pizzazz, look. If you're sick or somethin'..."

"Im not sick." Pizzazz shook her head. She bit her lip, then,

"Close the door." she ordered. "If I tell you this, you're on your honour on pain of death not to tell a living soul, so long as you're still breathing! You understand me? Noone!"

"Okay, okay, chill." Jetta nodded, getting to her feet and closing the door. "Right, it's closed."

"You swear?"

"I swear, all right?" Jetta spread her hands, looking frustrated. "What, do you want it written in blood or something?"

"Shut it with the smart remarks. I need your help!" Pizzazz snapped, then she blushed slightly, lowering her gaze as Jetta stared at her, not believing what the singer had just said.

" help?" she repeated at length.

"Oh, dammit, do you have to make a meal out of everything?" Pizzazz demanded. "Yes, already, I need your help. Okay? Satisfied?"

"Is this the same kind of help that roped me into running a music company without any bleedin' qualifications?"

"Jetta, this isn't a game." Pizzazz's tone became serious, and Jetta thought she could hear a note of helplessness somewhere in her friend's words. "This is something bad."

"Bad? What kind of bad?" Jetta asked suspiciously. "As in Roxy's eaten all the cornflakes bad? Or as in your accident bad?"

"Worse." Pizzazz whispered.

"Worse than your accident?" Jetta frowned. "There is a worse? For the Misfits...being out of action that long like we were and then the battle over the music company's're saying this is something worse than all that?"

Mutely Pizzazz nodded her head.

"What in hell could be worse?"

"Jetta, I'm pregnant."

For an instant, Jetta could do little more than stare at her companion, her expression a mixture of shock, horror and disbelief. Despite herself, Pizzazz smirked.

"I said it was worse." She said morosely. "You believe me now?"

Jetta cursed, then,

"You're not bleedin' serious!"

"I wish I weren't."

"Shit!" Jetta fell speechless again, then, "Why? How? Dammit, what were you doing?" Her eyes widened. "Oh God, no...bloody hell, Pizzazz, not...not Eric?"

Pizzazz nodded slightly.

"I told you." She murmured. "It's worse than anything else that's gone before."

"Why, dammit!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Pizzazz flared up at this. "Do you think I was happy when it occured to me something wasn't right? That I was acting funny and not getting my period? Do you think I laughed when the test I swiped from that stupid housemaid of mine came up positive? I don't damn well think so!"

"All right, calm down, before you give yourself a blinkin' miscarriage." Jetta snapped. "How long 'ave you known?"

"A week or two. Not much more."

"Why didn't you say something then?"

"Because, dumbo, I was going to get rid of it. None of you would have needed to know."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because Daddy and his people are still in LA, and the press are everywhere." Pizzazz groaned, burying her head in the pillow. "If they see me going into a clinic or get wind of what in hell is going on, what do you think Daddy will make of it? Hell, Jetta, he'll cut me off if he finds out what I've done!"

Jetta cursed again, realising the truth in her friend's words.

"Then what does that leave us with?"

"Nothing." Pizzazz replied darkly. "Except to wait."

"Wait? You mean hang on for nine bleedin' months? You cracked? You think noone will notice?" Jetta exclaimed.

"Shut up, will you! There are people downstairs!" Pizzazz snapped. "I don't want the world to know!"

"Well, you're not thinking straight. Dammit, do you want this baby?"

"God no. Of course not!" Pizzazz answered scornfully. "What do you think I am? A Hologram? Of course I don't want it!"

"Then why in hell are you willing to give up nine months of your life for it?"

"I don't have a choice!"

"And what if people ask questions later? It's not gonna stay hidden forever, you know! And what about when it's born, what then?"

"I don't know, all right?" Pizzazz buried her head in her hands. "I...haven't thought it all through yet. That's why...why i needed your help. You're...well...more devious than me."

This frank admission knocked the wind from Jetta's sails yet again, and she frowned, contemplating.

"What do you want me to say?" She asked finally.

"You're not dumb, you know how bad this could be if it got out." Pizzazz responded quietly. "You have to help me make sure noone does find out...ever. You got me? Not ever."

"Pizzazz, I can't see 'ow you're going to hide a newborn baby from the press, let alone nine months of hormones." Jetta shook her head helplessly. Pizzazz shrugged.

"Well, I ain't gonna keep the brat, what does it matter?" She demanded.

A tiny light dawned in Jetta's grey eyes.

"I suppose." She said slowly, "That noone would ask many questions, if they thought that the baby had been abandoned here..."

"Go on." Pizzazz looked a little more interested. "Explain."

"Well, if we were to, say, call the Starlight Foundation, tell them a baby had been left here on the step overnight." Jetta's mind was working fast now. "Who'd ever know any different?"

"What if it's a boy?"

"Well, Jerrica and her lot are so soft-'earted they ain't gonna leave a baby abandoned like that, are they?" Jetta reasoned. "They'd take the kid, boy or girl, an' well, then it's their problem, ain't it? Not ours. We've done our's over with then."

"I like it." Pizzazz admitted slowly. "You have your uses, Jetta."

"I wish though that you'd just get rid of it." Jetta admitted. "In the long run it's a lot less hassle. And I don't see how it will be easier to keep from Harvey if you go ahead with it than if you get rid. It's not like it won't be bleedin' obvious in a few months. You're thin as a rake. People will talk."

"I know, but I need time to think." Pizzazz glanced at her nails. "Time I don't exactly have, but right now I don't see what else to do. Obviously I'm going to have to...well...think of something. Or you are?"

She eyed her bandmate hopefully.

"You could just see sense and go with the first option. Get rid of it and damn the press."

"Not with Daddy in town." Pizzazz shook her head. "Listen, Jetta, when I was sixteen I messed up. I slept with this guy - he was a college freshman - and I was late. Daddy happened to come home from a business trip the same night I took a test to see if I was. I wasn't, but it hardly mattered. When he found out he went mental at me for...I dunno, being irresponsible or sleeping around or something. He said then and there that if he ever found out I'd done it again he'd cut me off and that would be that. He said it. I can't take the risk! Without Daddy's money all our careers are down the tubes, don't you understand? We don't have any choice."

"You were sixteen, Pizzazz! That was ten years ago! You're bloody grown up now!"

"Not in Daddy's eyes." Pizzazz said bitterly. "I still belong to him. I'm still his little girl. You wouldn't get it. It's just how it is."

"I wish you'd learnt to be more careful." Jetta muttered. "The amount of guys you take off with, I kinda figured you knew how contraception works by now. What went wrong? Did you just forget? Because it's a bloody big oversight to make, considerin' the result!"

"Shut up." Pizzazz snapped. "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"I guess I'm helping." Jetta sighed. "But look, you're gonna 'ave to tell Stormer an' ain't got a choice. I mean, we might shield you from the press, but they live with you, an' they'll see. Stormer will at least."

"I guess so." Pizzazz acknowledged with a tired sigh. "You tell them, huh? I'm knackered...I'm going to bed and to sleep. If you want the truth the past three nights I haven't slept for sickness, and, well, I finally feel all right so I'm taking advantage of it while I can. Get out, will you? And boot out the party. I want some quiet."

Jetta sighed, rolling her eyes. She got to her feet, heading to the door.

"We'll do our best to 'ide it, for the Misfits' sake." She said quietly. "You damn well better remember it an' all."

She paused in the doorway, watching as Pizzazz took off her dressing gown, dumping it on the floor and sliding into bed.  Her nights of insomnia and sickness had taken their toll, and soon she was well away in a deep, dreamless sleep. Once sure the singer was lost to the world, Jetta withdrew from the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her as she ran over the encounter again in her head.

She muttered a string of curses, hurrying down the main staircase towards the front room. As she reached the bottom, she realised that the party was already beginning to wind down and she perched herself on the windowsill, taking a glass of wine and sipping it slowly.

"Where did you go?" Justin asked her, casting her a grin as he came to sit beside her. "I missed you."

"Up to speak to Pizzazz." Jetta sighed, finishing her drink and setting the glass aside. "Turns out she was above stairs after all. I went to see if she was coming down or not."

"I'm guessing the answer was 'not'?" Justin raised an eyebrow. "Is she okay?"

"Define okay." Jetta said darkly. Justin looked confused, and at the sight of his expression, Jetta sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"No, she's fine. Or she will be." She said at length. "She seems to have mixed with something that disagreed with her and she's feeling a bit sorry for herself. I left her to wallow. Her own stupid fault if she feels sick."

"The way she mixes drinks at these shindigs, I'm not surprised she's seeing double." Justin said ruefully. "She'll be a nightmare in the morning."

"Oh, tell me about it." Jetta chewed on her lip, glancing up at the clock over the mantlepiece. "It's almost half past. I'd ask you to stop 'ere, but we both know that that's a major league taboo an' we got a lot of cleanin' up to do now most people 'ave cleared out."

"I know, and it's all right." Justin assured her, kissing her softly on her forehead, then getting to his feet. "I should be heading off anyway. Happy New Year, Jetta. And good luck with the patient tomorrow morning!"

Jetta rolled her eyes, raising her hand in a wave as her boyfriend crossed the floor, saying a brief word or two to his sister, then following the remainder of the party guests out to waiting taxis.

Once sure they were alone, Jetta grabbed both Roxy and Stormer by the arm, pulling them into the lounge and paying no attention to Roxy's indignant protests or Stormer's confusion.

"I need to talk to you." She said finally, once they had arrived at their destination. "We 'ave a problem."

"Yes, you." Roxy muttered.

"No, stupid. A big problem. A real problem." Jetta snapped, exasperated.

"What is it, Jetta?" Stormer asked, her tone concerned. "Did something happen at the party we didn't see?"

"No...something 'appened upstairs." Jetta said darkly. "I went up to see why Pizzazz weren't joinin' us. I wish I 'adn't bleedin' well bothered." She rubbed her temples. "This ain't somethin' I want to 'ave to deal with, now or ever."

"What's the story?" Roxy asked.

Slowly Jetta explained, and silence fell as her two stunned housemates struggled to come to terms with what their third was saying.

It was Roxy who spoke first.

"Is she mad?" She exclaimed.

"Apparently." Jetta pulled a face. "Look, maybe you can talk better sense into 'er. I sure as 'ell ain't 'ad much luck at it. She's insistant that this is the only way to go but I think she's talkin' nonsense."

"Poor Pizzazz." Stormer spoke softly. "She must be terrified."

Roxy snorted.

"She's not scared, she's insane." She returned. "Look, she can't have this baby - what are we supposed to do? Turn midwives? Play doctor? Hell, doesn't she realise what she's gonna wind up sticking on us to do if she goes all nine months of this?"

"Roxy, it's Pizzazz's decision. It's her body." Stormer chided. "Maybe she wants different things from you."

"No, she don't want it." Jetta shook her head. "If that's what you're thinkin', Stormer. She ain't thinkin' of playing Mama or nothin'. But we still got the problem. She don't want 'er father to find out - apparently it could land us all in 'ot water financially if 'e did, particularly considerin' the father..."

"Eric?" Roxy raised an eyebrow. Jetta nodded grimly.


"Does she love him?" Stormer wondered. Jetta rolled her eyes.

"Don't be soft, Stormer. She 'ates 'im. She wants to rip 'is bleedin' throat out." She replied. "She ain't in love or nothin' stupid. She's just been careless an' gotten 'erself knocked up, that's all. An' now we 'ave to 'elp 'er deal with the consequences of it, else it could be the worse for the Misfits."

"Men suck." Roxy decided, banging her glass down on the table as she did so to emphasise her point. "Eric especially. So what are we expected to do? How are we gonna keep this a secret, huh? I mean, it's not like it's gonna be hard to spot!"

"We just have to do our best." Stormer looked thoughtful. "And rally round. I mean, we've always made a thing of the fact we take care of our own. We just have to do so. Whatever it takes."

"Well, you can bloody well deliver it then. I'm goin' down the pub that day." Jetta said shortly.

"She'll change her mind." Roxy decided. "At least, we'll do our best to damn well make her - right girls?"

"Roxy, you can't make her do anything." Stormer protested.

"Listen, Stormer, it's not in her interests to do this. Or ours." Roxy responded. "She's already enough of a pain to live with - can you imagine her on hormones for the next nine months? Plus she's not exactly gonna be inconspicuous...and hell, what if we can't keep it down?"

"For once I'm with Roxy." Jetta said darkly. "I know we can't force her to do anything, Stormer...but we gotta make 'er see 'ow mad she's being."

"Well, okay." Stormer said slowly. "But listen, you guys. If she's dead set on going through with this, whatever her reasoning - we have to be behind her, and protect her all we can."

"Whatever happens, we stick together." Roxy agreed grimly. "But damn her, I hope she sees sense."

"She's dog tired at the moment. Maybe it's lack of sleep talking." Jetta observed. "At least, I hope so." She sighed. "Look, I don't know about you girls but I'm gonna 'ead to bed meself. God knows I'm gonna need some strength if we gotta deal with this situation tomorrow!"

Part Four: Desperate Times
Chapter One: Recovery
Chapter Two:  Harvey
Chapter Three:  A Disturbing Realisation
Chapter Four: Shock
Chapter Five:  Complications

Chapter Six: New Year's Eve
Chapter Seven:  Bombshell

The Boring Disclaimer:
Pizzazz is not my character - she and the Misfits were created by Hasbro and given life by Christy Marx and the writers of the Jem series. However, the events, concepts and plotline contained in this story is my own and may not be duplicated. Justin, Alan and any character not featured in the Jem cartoon are entirely my creation and are also not to be duplicated anywhere else.