Double Trouble (Sequel to Baby of the Band)

Eleven

After they'd gotten the boys' newly-expanded toddler bed made up–which Ended up requiring Kelcey to go back to the store and trade both the twin and full-size bedding for a Cali-King set–the drummer needed to run a couple more errands. Since she was there, he all but begged her to watch them for a couple different reasons, mostly so he wouldn't screw them outta naptime, if they were tired enough. His other reason–which was visible to her in his eyes–was that he needed a lil bit to himself to clear his head, so she was all for watching them.

        If that hadn't been reason enough, it was getting about Time to take Rob's car out on the road before it basically just withered itself away in the garage. That '74 Firebird was one of his biggest Prides and Joys, although few actually knew he had it since he preferred letting the public think otherwise. Most thought he was into just Harleys, or the '87 Toyota MR2 he'd had when they were recording Open Up, but that wasn't true.

        The bassist'd actually inherited his muscle car from his biological dad a few Years after they'd moved out West from Penn. Having never had him in his Life as a child–although, he hadn't told his band that at first–he almost hadn't had the paperwork done to have the title put into his own name. When Bret'd found out he was even thinking about that, he'd told him to do it, or he'd look into buying it for himself, 'cuz he loved Firebirds, especially seventies models. Not about to let him have such a gem of a car, only to more than likely wreck it in the then-near Future, he'd glared at him as he grabbed the pen extended to him and signed his name where necessary with a flourish.

        Not quite ten Years later, the almost twenty-Year-old car still ran like it was fresh off the lot the Day his dad bought it back in '73 when it first came out. Rob almost lavished far attention on that car than he'd ever lavished on a woman–even his ex-wife–and now, they all knew why. However, it also proved that he and the pint-sized guitarist'd more in common than they'd originally thought, which finally came out when Rikki told him what kinda car he was taking out.

        Really? he'd spelled out with the Scrabble tiles. That's one of my favorites, but I've never been able to find one that wasn't better off in a junk yard!

        "Yeah, really," the drummer chuckled. "Lemme tell ya, not being able to drive it's prolly eating Bobby alive more than anything else right now."

        I don't even wanna have sex as much as I just wanna drive my car like I stole it! the pint-sized bassist spelled out, which'd made everyone crack up. Hearing that purr ain't the same as being behind the wheel, damn it!

        "I know, I know–but at least I'm still making sure it gets taken out for ya," Rikki told him. "Speaking of, I prolly oughta grab Bret while I'm out this Time so we can swing by and get Richie's car before it winds up falling apart."

        Even though it's a '92, I'd rather my own Firebird stay in one, unrusted and undry-rotted piece, the pint-sized guitarist spelled out.

        "Where's the keys, then?" he asked. "'Cuz I wasn't paying much attention that Morn we foundja in a piss-soaked bed."

        Should be hanging on the key rack next to the front door, Richie spelled out. If not, check my nightstand next to the phone and my bathroom counter–those're the only other places I ever put them.

        "Your bathroom counter, as in not the half-bath off the kitchen that I saw, right?" the drummer clarified.

        He nodded, knowing he never even went in there except to make sure there was still toilet paper, if he'd someone over–which was rare.