Baby of the Band

Four

As soon as they awoke from their nap, Rikki knew he was gonna have to take his chances with taking the pint-sized bassist to the hospital. He'd been trying to avoid doing that since he didn't have even a fake Birth certificate that he could fill out to take with him to prove he was his supposed daddy. But when the lil guy woke up and started screaming, cradling his hand even closer to his chest than he'd done for the last couple Days, he knew their Luck'd run out on that.

        Unbelievably, somebody rang the doorbell just as he was finishing packing up his diaper bag to take with them and was about to get his car seat in his car. Heaving a frustrated sigh, the drummer moved to answer the door, wondering who could possibly be paying him a visit at this particular moment. Surprise colored his features as he saw Bret standing on his front stoop, a piece of paper in his left hand.

        "Oh, boy–sounds like I'm just in Time," the shorter blonde chuckled.

        "I figured you'd be at home, just chilling out," Rikki said, making sure he was loud enough to be heard over their friend's crying.

        "Figuredja could use a favor," he told him, grinning as he held up the sheet of paper.

        The drummer's eyes widened as he saw that it was a Birth certificate, especially when he saw how real it looked.

        "One of my old friends married a midwife," Bret explained. "He's one of those Lead-lined vault types, and so is she–I figured if anyone could help us cover our tracks, it'd be them."

        "So, ya got them to print out a blank Birth certificate for ya?" he asked, still surprised.

        "Hell, I didn't even have to ask!" the front man laughed. "Erin offered to after I explained what'd happened and I showed her a Polaroid I got of Bobby when he wasn't looking."

        "But are ya sure they're not gonna get in trouble for this?" Rikki asked nervously.

        His friend assured him that the midwife'd gotten her sister to play the part of the doting mommy, who was supposed to be outta Town on a business trip. As long as he used his legal name, it was doubtful that anyone in an ER'd recognize him as the drummer of Poison. The other big thing was that Rob'd gotten a bit of a name Change, too, so he couldn't use the pint-sized bassist's legal name. According to the new, fake Birth certificate, he was now Robert Harley Ream instead of Robert Harry Kuykendall.

        The front man'd even cooked up an excuseta explain away the tattoo on his arm that he'd gotten for his wife not long after they'd gotten engaged. Since Rikki was a pretty good artist, he could say that his son'd seen somebody else with the tattoo–or at least, a similar one–and wanted his daddy to draw it on him with Crayola markers.

        If it weren't for how much pain the brunette was obviously in, he'd have tried to argue the point and say that maybe this wasn't a good idea. As it stood, he wouldn't be able to take his screaming for much longer, even though he'd a damn good reason for doing so much of it. Taking the pen his friend held, Rikki made the snap decision to sign his name in the box reserved for the father's signature so they could get moving. He clearly needed treatment for his hand since its cast'd come off when his body shrunk, so any kind and amount of extra damage coulda been done to it in the last couple Days on their way home from Michigan.

        While the drummer was signing the Birth certificate and getting Rob ready to go, Bret headed out to his garage to at least start getting the car seat in his car. Even if he couldn't get it buckled into the back seat, he could at least get it hefted in and positioned so it could be buckled in. That'd certainly help his friend, who seemed desperate to help the baby in his care almost to the point that it seemed like he really was his daddy.