Trashed and Scattered

They were wearing black beanies and hoodies from what I could tell with a quick glance. Brian had already sprung off the couch and gotten his baseball bat from the closet and was halfway out the door before I had an opportunity to rationally calm myself. Everything was muffled as my ears were ringing from my screaming. Brian came back in the door and slammed it behind him, locking both the deadbolt and handle. He was panting angrily. Hands shaking. Face redder than a fire engine. I was terrified, and he was no better. “Who the fuck was that?” I yelled, shrieking.
Through the pauses between breaths, he choked out, “Bunch of fucking kids. Don’t know who they’re messing with.”
“What the hell is going on?” I cried, sliding down a wall to the floor where I wrapped my head in my arms. Brian knelt down beside me and rubbed my back. “I’m so fucking scared, who was that and why were they dressed like fucking ghouls?”
Brian shook his head and pulled me back up to my feet. My legs were weak. I felt very sick. “All I know is there must have been about five or six of the little bastards. Lucky for them I never caught one of ‘em. Little cock suckers. Maybe we ought to sleep down in the bunker tonight.” By the bunker, he meant his completely sound-proof music room. Kind of like a recording studio, really. It wasn’t a bad idea.
Trying to calm myself down from an oncoming panic attack, I realized my hands had both automatically dropped down across my belly as though they were protecting our baby from danger. “I don’t know what to do when you go on tour. I don’t know what it was that they were wearing that made them look so threatening. Bunch of coked-out thugs looking for expensive merch, I’d say.”
“Could be. I’ll phone the cops, give them a heads up. Doubt they’ll come down. Maybe we’ll install some security cameras too.” Brian was scrambling to cover all his bases. It was past midnight and we were both in agreement that calling the guys or even just Matt was a little over the edge. The door was locked, the windows shut, and blinds were down. I knew he’d keep the bat close. Our boys didn’t own guns, which I guess was for good publicity, but we were at the point now of buying one and hiding it in case a baseball bat was a little too far out of reach.
Brian called the police just as he said he would and answered a whole series of questions. What the punks looked like, how tall they were, if they had any particularly identifiable traits. I only saw them from the corner of my eye. Truth be told, Brian probably saw more of them than I did when he chased them off the property. Couldn’t have been older than twenty, incredibly thin. Brian noted that they were twitchy, maybe not enough to be profiled as junkies, but it would take some serious cojones to peek into the window of a renowned weight-lifting guitarist from a metal band. Especially one who’d just learned he’d be having a family in the near future.
When we’d both calmed down, that was after a couple beer for Brian and a hot bath together, we grabbed several blankets and pillows and crawled into the basement to prepare the bunker for the night. There were several cops in ghost cars waiting along the road in case the goons came back for another round. Fame had its privileges, I suppose. Wouldn’t perhaps call being stalked one of them however.
It took me a while to get to sleep. We set up on the floor where there was at least some carpet. Lots of static in the air. I knew my back was going to be sore in the morning, regardless of how many blankets we laid down under us. It was nice and warm down there so all the more padding rather than coverage. Brian placed one of his hands firmly around my belly as we spooned and soon enough I felt his long, alcohol-soaked breath on my neck. His unique scent rolling off his hulking body, surrounding me with comforting familiarity. I was too tense to unfurl from my fetal position. Huddling my legs close to my chest, hoping that the night would roll away and things would return to a sense of less fucked up in the morning.
When I woke I felt the stagnant air from the bunker lay heavy above us both. It stunk like stale alcohol and body odor. I couldn’t wait to rush upstairs for a shower. It was way too quiet. I’d begun to get a headache as soon as I stood up. While we kept the bunker door open, the door on top of the stairs remained closed so there wasn’t much air flow. Surprisingly I wasn’t feeling nauseated. Brian still snored away on his back by his guitar rack. I piled a blanket on him and left the bunker to put on a pot of coffee.
Brian’s phone had several notifications, one being a late-night call from Matt. Likely from after we went to bed. I checked the voicemail and found nothing interesting rather than concern for the incident last night. Chills went down my spine. I flicked through his messages. Several from his mom, two from Matt. One from Jimmy. And another from their manager. My heart skipped a beat.
I read it out loud, quiet enough to not wake him even though he was still down in the bunker. It was a mass text. Oh, crap. “Guys, I just spoke with a few executives from the label and they think it’s a better idea to have a tour right away, not long-term but a few months at the least. Let me know what you think and we’ll go from there. –Phil.”
My blood boiled. I felt like tossing the phone in the sink and filling it with water. That was just the irrational part of me. The other part of me that felt guilty for being so excited that he’d be staying for so long flared up too. I didn’t want to show him the text. But I didn’t want to go that far. I closed the phone and set it back on the counter, making a mental note to tell him about it later on.
I checked the front window and noticed that the few cruisers stationed on our street were gone. The sun wasn’t very bright today, probably rain. A great day for housework, I decided. Brian could help me with the chemical parts—I didn’t want to expose our baby to the toxins, as early as it was. No bending or lifting either. Guess it was just dusting and organizing for the time being.
I turned on the radio and caught the beginning of the news. Apparently it travelled fast because the Kiss FM host began rambling on about peepers in our neighbourhood. Funny, we weren’t the only house it happened to. It reminded me to check the door locks and make sure our windows were closed. I opened the blinds for some light, even though the outdoors was still so gloomy. Today would have been a fantastic beach day, should we have organized it so that some technicians could come down and install security cameras. That was Brian’s other job for today.
I poured a cup of steaming coffee and slightly watered it down, hoping that coffee wouldn’t disrupt the baby’s health and growth. God I was so paranoid about it. And so much had happened in the last few days, I was shocked to have not forgotten yet. A beer would have been nice last night. A cigarette no less.
Brian’s phone went off again—another text. This time from Jimmy again, commenting on the radio announcement. Man, there was no privacy from these guys. I laughed quietly and shook my head, putting the phone down again. The radio became background noise as I picked up the broom and began sweeping along the tile floor of the kitchen and hallway. So much dirt accumulated over so little time. I was incredibly grateful that we had no animals that shed.
I swept about a half hour and mopped the other half hour. Then washed a little bit of laundry, tidied up the living room and our bedroom. Vacuuming would wake sleeping beauty downstairs and I wasn’t about to hear him bitching about it being interrupted. And I could only realize how my life had gone from aspiring journalist to Brian Haner’s housewife in so little time. Hilarious, it was. I wondered how Matt survived after his fiancée left him. Surely he was able to do his own laundry and wash his own dishes. And Little Johnny. Bless those hooligans.
When Brian finally crawled out of his cave, he met me at the top of the stairs and kissed me quick before bending down and touching my belly with his forehead and nose. He planted a soft kiss on my belly button and stood up again before heading down the hall to the bathroom. He did his manly wake-up rituals: washed his face, passed gas, pissed. Maybe not all in that order. But I refused to go in the bathroom with him especially after just waking up. “Hungry?” I called to him from the kitchen, expecting him not to hear me.
“Yeah, be out in a sec.” He called back. I resumed my dishes. He’d help me dry them later. “Anything in particular we’d both want, my dear?” he asked, grabbing my butt.
I pinched his ass in return and dried my hands on his shirt. “It’s up to you, you’re cooking.”
“Oh, I see.” He laughed. “Anything weird this morning?”
“No, but the radio announced it this morning. Someone gave a good description of them but no one was caught by the cops. Just hope they don’t escalate it, you know? We don’t have much of a security system.”
“Just a big man with a ball bat. Figured that would have been enough for anyone not to come knocking uninvited.” I fell into him, resting my head against his chest. “Gee, maybe they think I’ve gone soft since you came around.”
I shrugged. “Well, they still have to deal with a big man with a bat. And his crazy pregnant fiancée.”
“Right, after she finishes screaming and freaking the fuck out.” He said with a straight face, then broke down in laughter. I punched his shoulder and turned back around to finish scrubbing a stubborn plate. “I see you’ve been busy.” And he grabbed a towel to help me finish the chore.
“Are you going to call someone to install security cameras outside?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. Brian nodded and stacked a plate in the cupboard. “You had a few messages on your phone. Mostly Matt but there was one from Phil too.”
“Did you already read it?”
I nodded. “Read it and let me know what you think.”
He proceeded to check his phone, hearing the voicemails first. Deleting them right after. “Fuck sakes.” He sighed. I assumed he read Phil’s message. “Alright, looks like we’ve got to have another meeting. Proceeding to call Matt, he stepped outside on the deck and lit a cigarette. I rolled my eyes and carried on, finishing the last few cups. I rinsed them with lukewarm water and dried my hands before returning to the living room. My nausea began to start up and I didn’t feel like standing and stressing about Brian being on the phone. When he came back in, he looked as though Matt had told him they’d be leaving for tour in a week.
I didn’t have to ask him what was up before he told me. “Having an emergency meeting at the office with Phil. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Need anything from the store?”
“No, I’m okay hon.” He kissed me on the forehead before walking over to the porch to throw on his jacket and fedora. “See you soon.”
“Hope this goes over well.” he said with a long sigh, and disappeared out the door. I heard the truck’s engine roar to life and the wheels screeching as he barrelled out the drive. Wrapping myself up in a blanket and sticking a pillow under my head, I watched the ceiling and began to nod off for a quick nap. Enough to ease off the sickness, anyway. Hopefully Brian would be back by the time I woke.

Notes

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