Flesh and Blood (Sequel to Poison'd Crüe)

Eleven

As they were prepping to head out on the next leg of the Flesh and Blood tour, Bobby felt like Life couldn’t get any better. He was still exhausted from having a newborn, just like his mate was, but even with that and his band being in a more or less private turmoil, things were better than they’d ever been. Granted, he’d still pretty much had it with CC and his coke addiction, but things hadn’t hit a boiling point with him quite yet, so they were still seeing how that was gonna play out.

        While Nikki was napping upstairs with baby Zep, he was working on packing a few more things for said infant since they couldn’t cancel the tour, but they weren’t about to leave him at home with his own mother. Lynda’d already offered to stay home with him, but since she was going through so much in her own Life, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Besides, he wasn’t ready to be parted from his son this son–he wasn’t even a month old, and that combined with nine months of pregnancy made it hard to wanna let go. It was something she’d understood, so she’d simply made sure both bassists were sure they wanted to do this and knew they could Change their minds, if it turned out they couldn’t tour with an infant.

        Not long after he brought the last bag he was packing for his son downstairs, the younger bassist heard a knock at the front door. Figuring it was one of the guysta go over one last checklist or something, he headed toward the foyer so he could answer it. He wasn’t expecting to find his legal wife, Mishy, standing there on the doorstep–and with a lil blue bundle in her arms.

        “Mishy?” he asked, sounding surprised and confused.

        “Hey, Bobby,” the young woman said, managing a smile through her obvious Anxiety.

        “C’mon in,” Bobby told her, something telling him whatever she’d come over for was big.

        His legal wife didn’t seem to know what to say as they settled in the living room, and not ’cuz she was getting to see at least part of the home one of her favorite rock stars owned and lived in.

        “So, what’s up?” he asked, now settled with one ankle resting on the opposite knee.

        Mishy looked up at the man she’d agreed to marry in strictly a legal sense, biting her lip nervously as she tried to figure out where to start.

        “I’ve never seen ya this nervous before, Mishy,” the younger bassist said, moving that one foot to the floor as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

        “Well…I’ve never exactly had such big news for someone, either,” she admitted, her voice shaky.

        Bobby was confused, as evidenced by his cocked brow, but kept quiet as he waited for her to continue.

        Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at him from the lil bundle she was still cradling. “Bobby…this is your son.”

        He felt his mouth drop open at the same Time his brows shot Sky-high. “What!?”

        “Yeah, that faux belly last Year–it wasn’t a fake,” the young woman admitted. “Remember when we slept together around March fifth, ’cuz ya weren’t exactly dealing with Nikki leaving again very well?”

        The younger bassist remembered exactly what she was talking about. “That was the same Day we decided to go through with that publicity marriage the label was pushing on me.”

        “Well, that’s when this lil guy was made,” Mishy told him, gently rocking the bundle in her arms.

        Moments later, he found himself in a typical what the fuck am I gonna do? kinda pose, his hands cupping his head as his fingers tangled in the long, wavy mess he called his hair. Bobby wasn’t sure what his legal wife’s plan from here was, and a sense of foreboding settled over him as if he wasn’t gonna like whatever it was. Either way, he wasn’t likely to get to see this lil boy very much–on the road or off, he needed his mama sooner or later, and he already had his hands full with Zep.