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  Feeling my face get soft at the thought, I answer, “It’s different with everybody, but since I do yoga religiously it might be a few more weeks.”

  He flashes a big smile. “Oh that's right, you do yoga. I must have forgotten that.”

  My face is flushed. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, because Deklan Thomas is a huge advocate for yoga as a workout regime, and because I remember that’s what started my relationship with Redy. It's the toughest workout you can do, but come to find out, it’s also relaxing at the same time.

  “I also run when I need to change it up,” I say smartly.

  His smile gets bigger as he watches me in the mirror and he replies cheekily, “Really? So do I.”

  I know he's teasing me, but really he's not an obsession to me. True, I didn’t know about yoga until Stacie made me go and I read the article... that happened to be about him. Fine, whatever, moving on, I mumble, “We better get going.” I can hear him chuckling as we walk out of the room.

  When we get to the venue, Deklan directs the cab driver to the back of the venue and gets out, holding his hand out to me again. We walk up to a security guard, and Deklan tells him he's going to need a backstage pass for me, All Access. This is so exciting. I’ve never been backstage anywhere before. I can’t help my look of wonder at how big everything is. Once I put the pass around my neck, and we get in the gate, I see there are semi-trucks everywhere. I mean, probably ten that I can see. To the left, where Deklan is leading me, there are five tour buses total, parked front to back in a row. He walks around the buses, to a back door with another security guard who opens it for us. Deklan goes first and pulls my hand. He glances back at me as he strolls through the halls, following the signs for Rolling Bridges dressing rooms.

  “Do you have questions about anything?” he inquires.

  I shake my head. “Nope, I’m just taking it in.” I smile at him.

  He gives a little grin back and keeps going. Eventually we get to a door that has a lime green Rolling Bridges sign on it. By this time there have been so many turns that there's no way I could find my way out. I’m thinking we must be on the other side of the venue, but what do I know?

  He opens the door and it's exactly what you would expect a dressing room to be like. There are two round tables in the middle of the room that can easily seat eight, with three guys from the band eating. A buffet along the left wall. Right in front of me looks like a smoothie/juicing bar with all kinds of fruits and vegetables and two big machines, one I recognize as a blender. On the right wall is a big, flat-screen television mounted to the wall with Breaking Bad playing, and to the side are the two other band members playing arcade games.

  The three eating look up, then do a double take when they realize Deklan is holding my hand. I try to turn away, but he squeezes my hand, pulling me after him toward the table, then pulling a chair out for me.

  Deklan looks over at the two playing games and calls out, “Hey Peter, Tommy, can you come here? I need a minute.”

  They look over, see me, and leave their games. Peter is lanky tall with straight black hair that frames his face like spikes against his skin. He's wearing a white henley with tight black skinny jeans and biker boots. I know he plays guitar in the band. One of the guys sitting down pauses the show.

  Tommy is blonde with a shaggy mullet that looks all eighties rocker, and not Billy Ray at all. He has on a red, green, and white flannel shirt with a white shirt underneath, jeans that are rolled at the cuff and what looks like matching slippers on his feet. He's their drummer, and is notorious for not wearing shoes when he plays. He's also married with two kids.

  At the table Alan has a straight-up brown curly head, a la Bevis, and plays keyboards. Tag is wearing aviators indoors, and he has a huge smile, perfect teeth and just out of bed light brown hair that is relatively short, but still manages to go everywhere. He plays acoustic guitar. Alan's in a wife beater, jeans, and chucks, while Tag fills out a long sleeve maroon shirt and black corduroy pants. I can’t see his shoes. Tag has a girlfriend, Kayla, who sometimes goes on tour with them, but she's big into fashion so she can’t be there all the time.

  Fandy is black with great long dreadlocks and plays the electric guitar. He has gold contacts in his eyes, a loop through his nose and is wearing a black wife beater. He always looks kick ass.

  Okay, now I’m feeling like a groupie. Deklan stands to the back and side of me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Guys I want you to meet Alaina...“ He pauses but there's recognition in the other guy's faces. I wonder if they were at the club the other night and I just didn’t notice, or if he mentioned me. “...but she goes by Ali.” There's a loaded silence in the room.

  Everybody is looking back and forth with a kind of shocked yet questioning look on their faces, but nobody is asking anything. I realize I’m starving when I start to get nauseated with the thickness in the air.

  Deklan squeezes my hand to break the tension then says to the guys, “Yeah, that Ali. But you already know who she is.”

  Then to me he says, “Ali, you know the guys.”

  He looks down at me, then turns to address them again. “We missed lunch, so I need to get us some food. Be nice.” Peter grabs the chair next to me and slides in while Deklan goes to the buffet and starts loading two plates.

  Peter leans in and starts the interrogation. “So, Ali.” He locks eyes with me.

  Deklan turns around for a second then back to the buffet. I look at Peter and lift an eyebrow.

  He gives me a half smile and asks, “We're all wondering, did you set up the club thing the other night?”

  I give him an incredulous look, and fire back, “How would I know he would be there. I didn’t even know about the Red Door until I asked a bellhop where I could get food!”

  Peter nods his head and looks to his right telling Tommy he's up.

  “Why didn’t you guys eat before, Dek said he had to meet you at the pool?” he asks.

  That's a good question, actually. I try to answer without answering. “There was no time with the interviews… I had to get ready...“

  Fandy decides to help me out. “I was surprised as hell to see you last night. And looking so fine. Understandably, I think.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I choose to stay silent. I’m starting to get really nauseated. I’ve learned getting hungry is a bad thing, and the only way to hold it off is to eat small every few hours.

  Deklan sets a plate down in front of me filled with food and a glass of ice water. I look up at him and he shrugs. “I didn’t know what you wanted to eat, so I got a little of everything. Whatever you don’t want, I’ll finish. What do you want to drink? We don’t have ginger ale, but I can send someone for it.”

  “Thanks, Deklan. Water is fine, don’t make anyone run out. It's okay,” I reply.

  “You sure? It's not a problem?” he counters.

  I just nod my head and give a thumbs up because my mouth is full of stuffed mushrooms. So good. On my plate are more mushrooms, mozzarella sticks, a turkey club sandwich, some nachos, and a piece of lasagna. I work my way through the mushrooms and take a bite of lasagna when my stomach rebels. All of the guys are talking about the set list for tonight, when I interrupt.

  “Bathroom?” I ask, reaching down for my purse. Deklan looks over at my pale face as my forehead starts to sweat. His brow wrinkles and he points to a door I hadn’t yet noticed on the other side of the room.”

  “You okay, Ali?” Alan asks.

  “Yeah babe, you straight?” Fandy asks right on top of Alan.

  I wave a hand as I quickly get up. “Dek, you tell them, no time.” I put my hand over my mouth and speed walk to the door, feeling those mushrooms like missiles about to sling shot out of my throat. Shutting the door, I make it to the toilet just in time for the mushrooms to hit the bowl. Note to self: NO more mushrooms. After I’m done with that, I have to brush my teeth and gargle, then wipe away at the tears that started on the first gag and my nose that's running like
a faucet. Being preggo sucks! But I get a chance to hear the guys talking in the other room as I wash up.

  Deklan’s voice sounds cautious, “...early days yet guys, but you're fucking right. No way she's an online only friend anymore.”

  What does that mean? I mouth to my reflection over the sink.

  Fandy asks incredulously, “Even with a kid? Dude you don’t want to get strapped down to baby-daddy drama. You’ll be on some kind of Springer shit before you know it.”

  I freeze.

  Deklan shoots back sounding exasperated, “Shut your mouth asshole, she can probably hear you. It’s my baby. Besides the kid’s not a deal breaker. I mean it's not really real right now, but this is Ali. Ali's personality with Alaina's perfect fucking body. Sign me up for that.”

  I melt against the side of the bathroom wall and silently scream Oh my God at myself in the mirror putting my hand over my heart. He thinks my body is perfect!? He wants to be signed up? FOR WHAT? Friends? Hookups? Friends with benefits? Marriage and babies? Okay, I’m going too far, but what does he mean?

  Tommy chimes in amused. “Daddy Dek, huh? I never thought I’d see the day. It's a big responsibility, bro. You don’t need to string along a momma. Get it in your head right now if you're gonna do this long-term or not. You don’t make those kinds of memories twice.”

  That is true. Deklan the rock star turned Daddy, my stomach flips over. Sonograms, nurseries, BIRTHS. Okay, I’m not there yet. What if he was there for all of that, and then bails when it's not just me anymore? I can feel the pressure in my head building and think I might need the toilet again.

  Deklan laughs, “Dude! Everybody needs to chill. Let's wait for the daddy talks until I even know which way this is going. Ali came to terms with it recently. She decided to raise the baby without a man. So everybody cool it and let her and I figure this out.”

  That's true, too. I’m cool. I’m chill. Shit, I should probably get out there before they think I fell in. I open the door and breeze out like I didn’t just hear what they were talking about. All of the guys are acting cool too. Nonchalant. Deklan has a sparkle in his eye, like he knows exactly when I stopped puking and started listening. I set down my purse as I take my seat again, and reach for the club sandwich. Maybe that’ll stay down, who knows. Alan makes a noise in the back of his throat like he's trying not to gag. I sweep the table with my eyes, similar expressions are on all of the guys’ faces, except Tommy and Deklan. Tommy is eating like nothing is wrong and Deklan's expression is one of concern, so I try to explain.

  “If I never ate after I puked, I would be starving right now. I need protein and all that.” Catching Deklan's eyes I point out, “I should really get a book or something.”

  He gives me a little nod and puts his arm on the back of my chair, his fingertips just touching the nape of my neck. I instantly get goose bumps and feel hot all over.

  Tommy speaks up, “You need a smoothie.”

  I tilt my head to the side and come back with, “Hmm, I haven’t tried that.”

  He gets up and walks over to the blender, grabbing things while he talks. “When my wife Della was pregnant with our first, Dakota, she was sick all the time. Now I’m addicted to ‘em.” He reaches under the table to the mini fridge, pulls out Greek yogurt, holds it up and says, “Protein, you can also use peanut butter, but that's harder if it comes back up.”

  I nod, that makes perfect sense to me.

  He grabs blueberries, strawberries, spinach, and a banana. Then he holds up a little brown thing that looks like a root, “Ginger,” he explains, “works like a charm. I always juice it because it's hard and doesn’t blend well.” He walks over to the juicer and turns it on, puts a knot of ginger in, and quickly turns it off. He takes the tiny amount of juice in a cup and tosses it in the blender. He scoops some ice cubes from a black pan next to the blender and puts the top on.

  I’m fascinated. Why did I never think of smoothies? Probably because I haven’t wanted to think of anything at all. And that's not a good way to start out, already acting like my kid is an inconvenience to me. It didn’t do anything wrong, but somehow it's my miracle baby, given the precautions against it and almost literally throwing it away. Already I’m a terrible mother. Tears gather in my eyes.

  Deklan leans over to my ear. “Hey what's wrong Ali?”

  I look down at my belly that's still flat. “I’m already a terrible mother,” I whimper softly.

  The other guys can’t hear over the noise of the blender crushing ice.

  “You are not,” Deklan says with conviction. “You had a rough start, and now you're figuring it out. I bet this baby is the most loved kid I know when it gets here. And that's saying a lot, cause Tommy's kids are freaking cute and we all would die for them. Okay? No more tears.” Then he leans over and kisses the top of my head, while his hand flexes on the back of my neck.

  It's such a little thing, but this is Redy and Deklan all together, the perfect package. Is that what he thinks of me? I know I’m fit now, but I’m about to have a basketball under my shirt. That is not sexy. I note that I also need to get a book on new yoga poses to accommodate the belly that's about to pop out. I should start making a list of this shit, I’ve heard preggos forget things a lot.

  I lean down to pull out my cell phone as Tommy finishes pouring my drink into a plastic cup with a lime green straw and lid, then hands it to me. I take a sip, just as the door to the hall opens and a man sticks his head in, calling out, “They’re ready for you,” before shutting the door again.

  I turn to Tommy exclaiming, “Oh my God, I love you! This is wonderful! And it will taste good even if it comes back up, too!”

  Alan makes the gagging noise again as Tommy laughs. “I told you.”

  “I’m adding this to my list,” I say as I grab my purse and throw it over my shoulder. The guys grab their plates and set them in a bus pan next to the juicer before walking out.

  We walk down the hall, past roadies pushing crates and holding coils of cords, with various bits and parts that make up a concert for a top of the charts band. Deklan has his hand on the small of my back, steering me around and keeping me close to the wall when possible. I think it’s sweet that he doesn’t want me to get run down by the backstage populace. I try to pull up the notes app on my phone to jot down the things I need to buy, but if I wasn’t watching where I was going I’d run into a wall or trunk of some kind. Even with Deklan's help I’m instantly lost with all the turns we take.

  We wind our way around and through a set of double doors to see the stage all of a sudden appear. The arena is huge, able to seat around twenty thousand. It will tonight, too, because this concert sold out. Right now it's empty, and it's one of those moments that hits me in the gut. This is just a little part of the nitty gritty, the things that regular people don’t get to see. And I’m here. Freaking amazing, surreal and at the same time, making things crystal clear for me. Will this one day be normal for me? Or will it always be as intimidating as this moment?

  Deklan points with his YOLO tattooed hand to the front row and tells me to sit anywhere I want while they mic up. I’m one of those people that goes to the movie theater and tests out spots until I settle on the right row, directly in the middle to get the full effect. So I move around while they’re messing with their ear pieces and tuning instruments. Finally I find the perfect spot in row eight, dead center. There are huge screens on the sides of the stage to give the people in the nosebleed seats close-ups of the band as they perform. Those are blank screens right now, and there's no lights either. Just the band in a quiet room, and my own personal concert.

  I lean back in my seat, prop my feet up on the chair in front of me, and drink my tasty smoothie. Tommy took his slippers off and has started hitting the bass drum, while counting out the beat. Alan, Peter, Fandy, and Tag come in while Deklan looks at me and raises the mic to his lips.

  He watches me, eyes locked, while he sings about meeting in a club and hooking up. I smile, bop my head and
mouth the words. But there's no sound coming from me. I want to hear him sing it. Nothing is better than a band that sounds as good, if not better, than a cd. Rolling Bridges has always been that good. They have major talent and got picked up for a record deal in high school. They shot to the top and have stayed there for going on eleven years. Hearing them live, it's not all about the lead singer. Each excels at their individual instrument, and all are true professionals at their craft.

  After the song is over, they go straight into the only ballad on their current album. It's about not letting go of the feelings you have because you're scared. Titled Unknown, it showcases Alan's piano skills, as well as Deklan's voice. It's such a pure thing, that voice. Smooth or gravelly when he wants it to be. He can hit the falsettos or be a deep baritone. There is no other voice like Deklan Thomas out there, his instrument. Rolling Bridges’ Grammys speak for themselves.

  As Alan goes into his piano solo in the middle of the song, Deklan jumps off of the stage and walks toward me. My heart starts beating faster as he sits and slouches down into the seat next to mine grinning. I offer my smoothie to him, even though it’s half gone by now. He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls the cup to his mouth, sucking on my straw. His five o’clock shadow, and the way his cheeks briefly suck in, cause a catch in my breath. He pushes the cup back toward me after a sip, then his eyebrows shoot up and he nods. It is seriously good. Then he leans back in his seat, head resting on the back of the chair, and puts his elbow on the armrest opposite me. He brings the microphone to his mouth, as he sets his feet up on the chair next to mine.

  Deklan opens his mouth and starts singing on his cue. I rest my head on the back of my chair too, but turn to face him as I watch him sing the beautiful words. He grabs my hand and plays with my fingers, watching them as he sings, never looking up, and I just stare. I have a feeling this is as close as he gets to a serenade. He has said more than once in interviews that singing is his job, and he's good at it, but he doesn’t do it in his spare time or anything like that. Only I get this moment. As the song comes to an end, he brings our hands to his lips and kisses my fingers before plopping his feet down and jogging back up the rows, and vaulting himself onto the stage. I note that his ass looks particularly fantastic in those jeans and see all of the other guys grinning at my checking him out. As if that was in doubt. Pffft.