“What’s wrong?” She was squinting at me and repeating the question. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Will?”
Her voice became frantic, but I was unable to find my own. She pushed me back against the seat and leaned over me, searching my eyes. She put her hand to my cheek.
I braced her hips with my hands and looked down at her belly. Finally my voice cracked and I said, “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay.” She took a deep breath. “What just happened to you?”
“How can that not have hurt the baby?”
She stared into my eyes for several moments. Her demeanor changed. I could see anger boiling behind her big hazel eyes. “Jesus, Will, your neurosis is getting really out of control. It’s going to start affecting your health; you have to calm down. You need to get your anxiety in check. Whatever you need to do to stop this constant catastrophizing, you should do it.”
“Thanks, wife,” I said sarcastically.
“I’m sorry. I just thought you were having a heart attack. I mean, you turned gray on me. I thought I had killed you with sex.”
“Now who’s catastrophizing?”
“I don’t want to fight on our wedding day.” She pressed a button, lowering the privacy screen, and then asked the driver to head to our loft.
I spoke to her in a low, defeated voice. “It just seems weird that it wouldn’t hurt the baby.”
She took my hand and finally her expression turned sympathetic. “The baby is tucked away in there and very safe. Your dick, although very big, honey, is nowhere close to reaching the baby.” She was protecting my ego. “This is natural. You asked me to be open and honest with you, so I will. I thought once I became pregnant that the idea of sex would sound revolting, but it’s actually the opposite. I’m super horny.” She whispered the last part.
“Oh yeah?” My voice got high.
“Yes, and you shouldn’t worry. Back in the day, people didn’t even know they were pregnant at this stage. I love your concern, I do.” She kissed my nose. “But you’re going to kill yourself worrying like that.”
“Okay,” I mumbled just as the limo stopped in front of our building.
We pulled our ravaged selves together and headed into the studio. I walked behind Mia into the control room. The most gratifying feeling in the world was watching Mia’s reaction when she looked through the glass and saw the Steinway.
“Holy shit,” she mumbled. “You bought the Steinway.” It wasn’t a question.
I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist.
She immediately turned and looked up at me with the most serious look on her face. “You are so getting a blow job tonight.”
This horny pregnancy thing is not so bad.
I nodded. “I’m okay with that.”
“Wait a minute,” she said excitedly, “You’re gonna die when you see what I got you.”
“I hope not.”
She punched me in the arm and then grabbed my hand and pulled me along. Walking behind her, I noticed that her hair was a total mess in the back from our little limo escapade. She had taken it out of the bun and crazy pieces were going everywhere. I laughed as she led me into the sound room.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your hair looks a bit…well, it looks a little…” I tried to pat the back down, but there was so much hairspray coating each strand that it wouldn’t budge.
“Through good and bad, honey, remember?” she said with a coy smirk. “Anyway, you’ll forget all about my hair when you see this…”
She moved away from one of the guitar stands, revealing an Ebony Les Paul. Upon further inspection, I noticed there was a signature. My eyes watered; I shook my head in disbelief. It was an electric guitar signed by Jimmy Page. I picked it up and it was like I was holding the holy mother-fuckin’ grail. In twelve seconds flat, I discovered the meaning of life while holding that guitar. I turned to thank Mia and found her donning a shiny gold halo and angel wings.
“I knew it. This is heaven, right?” I said to her.
She laughed. Okay, she didn’t really have wings and a halo, but she was as angelic as I had ever seen her, with her tousled hair, pink lips and white dress. It also didn’t hurt that she had just bought me my eternal wet dream.
“Not that this day could get any better, but what would it take to get your glorious little ass over to that drum kit?”
Mia rarely played the drums. She didn’t play them very well either, but I needed a drummer and she was the only one around. She kicked off her heels and skipped over to the stool as I plugged in my new precious baby.
“Which song?” she asked. There were plenty of good reasons why Mia didn’t normally play drums. For starters, she held the sticks awkwardly. Actually, I’m being generous when I say awkwardly. She held them like they were goddamn horse reins. She sat there in her pretty dress with her legs spread, one foot on the bass drum pedal and the other one on the high hat, the picture of a complete rock star if only it didn’t like look she was about to play the xylophone.
“You are so cute, baby.” I grinned and she smiled and bounced on the stool giddily. “‘When the Levee Breaks.’”
I watched as she searched her mind for the beat and then away she went, pounding like John f**kin’ Bonham. I didn’t adjust the strap, so the guitar was resting lower on my body than usual. I pushed my right leg out to play as best I could. Mia didn’t let up, so neither did I. Her hair was in her face and she was sweaty, and she only looked up at me at the bridge, and then I saw some sort of disbelief in her eyes. That’s what happens when you pay attention to your surroundings while you play the drums. You realize that not everyone is living in a loop. She messed up a few times and then closed her eyes and found the beat again.