Punk Rock-A-Bye Baby(38)

Tommy was astounded at her spur-of-the-moment creations. “Did you just make these all right now? Since we left the venue?”

“What’d she make?” Angel asked as he entered from the kitchen area.

Tommy handed him Jessi’s Tablet. “A bunch of baby clothes. Band merch for babies.”

Angel scrolled through the designs. A variety of excited facial expressions emphasized his approval. “I love all of them! I can’t wait for the baby to wear them!” He knelt down next to Jessi and faced the Tablet toward her belly. “Hey baby boy, look what Mommy made for you.” He sang something in Spanish that sounded like a soft lullaby. He dropped the Tablet on the couch and placed his hands on the circumference of Jessi’s belly.

A smile warmed Tommy’s face as he watched Angel sing to the baby, now in English.

Angel suddenly stopped singing and his eyes widened at the same time Jessi let out a startled laugh.

“What happened?” Tommy asked.

Angel’s eyes shot up to Jessi’s. “Was that the baby?”

“Uh huh.”

Tommy leaned forward, thrilled by his son’s first movement. “The baby just kicked?”

“Yes,” Jessi wore a smile that spanned both cheeks. She took Tommy’s hand and placed it on the curve of her stomach. “Maybe he’ll do it again.”

Tommy held his breath and waited. The slight ruffle under his hand made him jump, but then he realized it was just Jessi’s breath. When seconds passed and nothing happened, his spirits wilted. “I guess it was just a one-time thing.”

“Sing to him,” Jessi told Angel. “I think he liked that.”

“Really? I don’t think he can hear yet. Can he?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

Tommy had a feeling she was just humoring Angel, but shortly after he resumed his soft song, the baby stirred under their hands. It was a slight movement, but unmistakable. It was his child, squirming or reacting to his tiny world. Angel and Jessi laughed with happiness, but Tommy took it in another direction. The life that was just starting, still forming inside Jessi’s body, was suddenly real. This was his son. Tears welled in his eyes, and his voice was stuck in his throat. He bent his head and placed his cheek on Jessi’s belly. “I love you, little baby,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss into the wall of flesh that separated them.



It was good to be back in L.A. It was Tommy’s favorite city on the West Coast. It was filled with sunshine and happy faces. Life was less turbulent, at least outside the Staples Center. Inside, it was pandemonium. Immortal Angel just hit the stage, and the crowd was going wild. It was a free-for-all of pushing, shouting and jumping. Hands flew wildly in the air and seemed to grab at the purple and blue lights that swirled around them. There was a line of fire on each side of the stage that pulsated in time to Jimmy’s bass drum. It was sweltering. Tommy tugged at his T-shirt and grabbed a bottle of water from his amp. A flame shot up ten feet high like an angry volcano and nearly singed his hair. He retreated to the back of the stage to escape the heat and jumped to safety on top of the drum riser.

Jimmy barely noticed. His chin was lowered, and he stared somewhere into his snare, focused on the beats he created. He never shifted his eyes. He knew exactly where his side toms were. He knew how high his crash cymbal sat. His arms moved like tentacles with lightning speed and created a back draft that blew Tommy’s hair off his shoulder.

When Jimmy finally noticed that Tommy had joined him on the riser, a smile lit up his face in greeting.

Tommy returned the salutation by pressing down the whammy bar and jutting his guitar forward. Then he jumped down and snuck up behind Angel. The flames had died down and were replaced by purple lasers that sliced across the crowd like an array of plum-colored swords.

Back to back, Tommy and Angel pressed their bodies into one another – lead singer against lead guitarist. Angel turned around, and they faced one another. He barked the raunchy lyrics of Sex and Greed in Tommy’s face. Angel’s black leather cat suit fit him like a second skin. It was open from his neck to his waist in a large v-shaped slit that pointed to his crotch. His bare chest expanded with each gust of breath that he took in. His perfect abs contracted with every shake and twist of his body. A row of spikes ran down the length of each arm and reflected the light in a prism of violet and indigo.

Tommy was captivated by the abundance of talent and muscle that stood in front of him. He stared into Angel’s penetrating eyes without blinking and worked the neck of his guitar. Angel’s mouth moved closer, still projecting the lyrics into his mic. When he got an inch from Tommy’s face, he ran his tongue across Tommy’s lips and strutted to the other side of the stage, leaving Tommy aching for another taste.