1989: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.
warnings: adult content, mature rea...
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author's note: one of two one-shots to fill in some gaps before we saw their ending. Enjoy!
March 1995
A little over a month before their late April wedding, the family was in the office of their Seattle home during the evening. Bill sat on the armrest of the brown leather couch, looking over one of Alma's event planners, one of many planners she owned. Alma stood before a large paper calendar hung on the wall, chewing on the end of a marker in thought. She had accidentally booked a show during the week they'd be in Vegas. Both the shop and the club would be closed to the public so that friends and family could join them.
Using his pinky finger as a guide, he read through what she had jotted down in the planner and paused at a specific date block.
"Put them here," he stood up, grabbed the marker Alma held, and scribbled them on a date. "Second act. We'll ask them to cut a song or two. Headliner will just go on a little later."
"Yeah, okay." Alma agreed, pushing her large-frame glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"Better to reschedule than cancel." He softly massaged the nape of her neck with his free hand, but only briefly. With the same hand, he quickly flipped to May, making sure she hadn't scheduled anything over their honeymoon on the Amalfi Coast, but she color-blocked the row with a red marker.
Alma noticed Bill checking the time on the big vintage wall clock. He had a phone meeting with Bianca. They often spoke on the phone, but twice a week they talked business.
"Thanks for helping me." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Tell Bianca I said hi."
He pulled her in and grabbed her ass while kissing her again with more passion. They would be making love later, hoping to get pregnant. They started in December, just as she had promised him. So far, they haven't been successful. They weren't trying to stress so much about it and rather enjoy themselves. Yet, there was still a little nagging, disappointed voice in the back of their consciousness. Wondering why creating Echo, though not planned, just seemed to happen so easily. Without even a thought, no less.
Alma gently pushed him away, with a lustful, knowing twinkle in her gaze. "Echo," she turned to her. "Are you done working over there?"
Echo had been sitting at the head of the large office desk, scribbling on loose sheets of paper, mimicking her parents at work.
"Almost." She said, making them chuckle.
"Oh, c'mon on, E'. Let's get ready for bed. Say nighties to Daddy. And I'll meet you later, Daddy." she said with a cheeky wink.
Echo slid out of the big office chair, stumbling a bit, but ran into her father's embrace, and off they went, leaving him to his second job on the other coast.
The phone call lasted nearly an hour; half of it only pertaining to Trigger Finger, until they began speaking about their personal affairs.
"The street the record shop sits on is having a spring block party. All the other businesses put stuff out on the sidewalks. It's basically a little festival."
