Colors of Love

Ten

January, 1989

        Greenville, South Carolina

After an additional six months off from touring so that he could get used to–as far as he was concerned–being a single parent of twins, Bobby was preparing for his first show in over two Years. The last Time he'd played a live set was when Poison rounded out their Cat Dragged In tour in July of 1987, mere months before he'd gotten pregnant and lost his boyfriend. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready now, but he knew the longer he waited, the less likely he'd be to ever go onstage again.

        Duff'd been an invaluable help with the twins when he was off the road from his own tour and actually sober, the latter of which didn't happen nearly as often as he'd like. But even when he was so wasted, it took a bump of blow to wake him up enough to function–or a few pulls off his vodka bottle to bring him down from the blow a bit–he was already a helluva dad in all the best ways. There were tricks he knew that he'd picked up from watching all those older siblings over the Years, like cupping his hand slightly while patting a kit's back to burp them. For some reason, doing that'd get them to burp faster than using a flat hand, but it was something the older bassist wouldn't have thought of doing since he'd no experience in that department.

        The Elves and even his own band mates were also an invaluable help as he settled into being a single mama, especially Bret and his band's Rikki. It almost seemed like those two moved into his guest room when the younger bassist was on the road, which'd made him finally buy a third bedroom suit. After all, since his nursery design was more or less gender-neutral, he hadn't bothered with setting up a second one just yet.

        However, after his younger mate'd left to rejoin his band's tour a couple weeks after Lil Nikki and his twin–aptly named Corona Soleil–were born, he'd come to a hard decision. Seeing the younger bassist almost constantly drunk and/or high, even though he'd a fairly good reason for it, was simply too much for Bobby. It brought back too many memories of the late bassist and reminded him of all the things said Cat'd never get to experience now. Besides, like a true Irishman–or even Italian, for that matter–the younger Zorro'd quite a temper, especially when he'd been drinking or otherwise doing something illicit.

        "I just can't handle raising two babies and trying to get him cleaned up, too," he was telling his drummer as they helped each other get ready for their show.

        "Andja shouldn't have to," Rikki said, carefully applying his eyeliner for him. "Not after the shitcha put up with outta Nikki for nearly five Years."

        "That's exactly why I can't," the older bassist sighed, blinking once he told him he could. "I can't go through that again, not after how that round Ended."

        "So, you're gonna deny the mating pull, then?" he asked, Returning his eyeliner pencil to his makeup bag. "'Cuz you're the one who's told me that it'll be hell on even you, if ya do that."

        "No, I'm not gonna deny the mating pull altogether," Bobby answered, shaking his head. "Kinda like I can't take raising the twins and trying to get Duff cleaned up, I can't take what doing that'll do to me."

        "Then what are ya gonna do?" The drummer cocked a brow at him curiously.

        "I don't think I've any choice but to throw him outta my house till he either gets clean or dies–whichever comes first," he told him, a heavy sigh following his words. "I mean, obviously I hope that he gets clean versus it killing him, but then again..."

        "Since you've been through it once already, ya know ya can get through losing a mate again," Rikki said, starting to get his train of Thought.