No More No More

Europe, Baby!

Aerosmith, one week later, went back on tour, and I didn't see them again until September.  More often than not when I called Joe, a woman would answer.  I'd hear laughter from one of the band members in the background, then Joe would steal the phone away and I'd have no worries.  I trust him, what can I say?

        Joey burst through the door on the thirteenth of September, yelling my name.  I was just under five months along, and doing pretty well.  I hadn't slipped up on the drugs and booze deal... Too much.  I felt like a horrible person each morning when I woke up not remembering the previous night.  It's their fault, though!  Why would they leave that shit in the apartment when they know I have an addiction and they know I shouldn't be taking it?  It doesn't matter though, because now, the guys are going to Europe!  For the first time ever!  It's so great I can't even–– Oh, and I can't go.

        Have I mentioned that the mood swings are awesome?

      Anyway, Joey was in the middle of bursting through the door when I felt the need to rant (see above):

      "Annie, Annie, Annie!" he yelled excitedly.  I leaped off the couch and went over to the door.  "Guess what!?"

        "No, I wanna tell her," Brad whined behind him.

        "I'm the one marrying her, dumbasses.  Lemme tell her," Joe said, being the last to walk through the door.  I fell right into Joe's arms, kissing him hello after one long month and a half.  "How's it goin'?" he asked.

        "Oh, you mean minus the headaches, puking, going to the bathroom every three seconds, mood swings, and being constantly hungry?" I say irritably.  "It's going great."

        Joe kisses me again, apologizing and pretending to surrender.  I apologize too, because I woke up really early and can't fall back asleep.

        I take a step back so the rest of the boys can actually make it to the living room, but they're all too busy gawking at me.

        I'd decided that despite all the morning sickness and stuff, I liked having this little thi––baby inside me.  I'd realized that this is what I've been wanting for a long time: a family.  I'd decided that I was definitely naming it Anthony.  So, let's hope it's a boy, or else the daughter of the famous Joe Perry is gonna have rough grade-school years.

        "Wait, you're––you're...?" Brad seemed unable to finish the sentence.

        "You didn't tell them?" I demand, whispering into his ear.

        "I wasn't sure how to," Joe whispered back with a shrug.  "I didn't wanna get, like, kicked outta the band."  He points nervously at Steven.

      "Who's what, now?" Steven asks, vaguely interested, spinning around.  "Holy..." he trails off breathlessly.

        I fold my arms over top the bump, scowling.  "Yeah, I am."  Joe puts a tentative arm around me.  The three come to their senses, first Tom hugs me, and Brad and Joey follow suit.  Steven is still staring.  "Well, two down, one to go," he mutters under his breath, looking pointedly at Tom as he heaves his suitcase to the bedroom.  Joe shrugs it off, but Steven doesn't let it go that easily.

        Like I said, I was tired, so I went to bed early that night.  The doors aren't soundproof; Joe and Steven were in the hallway outside the room.  They had been talking, and I had just laid down.  "What the fuck, man?" he demanded of Joe.

        "What?" Joe said defensively.

        "You're in a band, man," Steven groaned.  "How the fuck are you supposed to get married, raise a kid, and be the lead-fuckin'-guitarist of America's greatest rock 'n roll band?"

        "I'll do it, okay?" Joe said.  "It won't be any different than now."

        Steven snorts.  "What, so we write an album while you play daddy and then we go on tour and you get to fuck a million groupies every night?"

        What?!  I creep over to the door and inch it open just a crack.  Light from the hallway filters onto my toes.  I peek through the small space.

        Joe was leaning against the wall, Steven was pacing back and forth.  "I'm not saying it's perfect, but it's worked so far," Joe says quietly.

        "Seems like a real flawless plan, Joe," Steven says sardonic.

        "Shut up," Joe advises.

        "We're goin' to Europe, man.  You expect to just sit on the couches all night and drink a Sprite while we go out and party?  Do you think that that's how this is gonna work?  Or are you gonna miraculously live some sort of double life?"

        "I'm figuring it out," Joe snaps.  "Just shut up and leave me alone."

        Steven scoffs, but heads for the door.  Shit.  I try to get back to the couch as quickly as possible, but Steven's in the door before I can take three steps.  He spins around after nearly slamming the door and runs right into me.  "Shit, sorry," he mutters, steadying himself with his hands on my shoulders.

        Oh, well this is awkward... The worst part is, he doesn't move.  He just glances from my face to the door and back with this tortured look in his eyes, knowing that I heard.  "Is it true?" I whisper, nodding towards the door.

        Steven dodges the question, knowing perfectly well what I'm talking about.  "A million is a lot," he states.  I give him my best death-stare, and apparently it's pretty effective.  He sighs, "Yes, kind of."

        I nod, accepting something I already knew in the back of my mind was true.  I shrug out of his arms and go back down on the couch.  I guess we momentarily forgot our silent treatment deal.  I have a hard time falling asleep after that.

--

I realized that the boys never told me whatever they wanted to tell me while I was sucking down eggs the next morning.  "Joey," I say, "what is it you wanted to tell me yesterday?"

        Joey tries to remember, then his face lights up.  "Guess what?" he says, hardly able to contain his excitement.

        "What?" I chuckle.  I was actually in a good mood today, despite last night's events.

      "You're coming to Europe with us!" Brad crows before Joey gets the chance.  Joey shoots daggers at him.

        "Really?" I say, shocked.  "I can?"  They nod happily.  My returning smile is brighter than the sun.

        "I thought the whole 'glowing' deal was just a statement," Tom mutters, joining us finally.  "What, did you tell her she's coming to Europe?"

        "Yeah!" I squeal.  I sound like... Like a teenage girl at a Stones concert.  I'm going to Europe!

        Joe jumps over the back of the couch to sit next to me, popping a doughnut hole in his mouth.  "That's right.  England, Germany, Sweden, the Netherlands..."

        "...Switzerland and France!" Steven sings, finishing off Joe's sentence in the other room.  We were leaving very soon.

--

How terribly cliché would it be to get married right under the Eiffel Tower?  At night, yeah, definitely at night.  The tower would be all twinkly with the lights and we could get like an accordion player and... Oh, yeah, way too cliché.

        Who cares, though?  I'm going to Europe, baby!

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A/N: Filler chapter... Oops.  Writer's block wasn't so great.  But it's over now, so yay!