Bonus Story Natalya

Pattie’s music shop crawls with people. It’s packed end to end by an insane variety of humans: hipsters in ripped black jeans and slouchy vintage shirts; music professors trying to pretend like they’re still cool (and mostly failing); touring musicians; a few members of up-and-coming local bands; a dozen more people that aren’t connected to the music world, but who just happen to love Pattie.

I post up in a corner of the room, feeling awkward. I can’t drink, seeing as I’m still pregnant, and I don’t really know a ton of people here. My own party was a month back but there’s always a huge turnover when Pattie’s involved. People join, disappear, go on tour, have falling-outs, the works. It’s a fun scene, but exhausting.

Especially for a pregnant lady.

“You look a little lost.” An older man appears at my elbow. He’s in his mid-forties, thinning hair, bad facial hair, and a bit of a paunch. His arms are hairy enough to insulate him in the Arctic. “I remember you from that concert.”

My eyebrows raise. “You were there?”

“Pattie played me a little recording.”

“She wasn’t supposed to do that,” I say, face turning red. That’d been part of the deal: I’d play, but strictly no documentation. I don’t even know how she snuck that one since Alex was obsessive about security.

“Don’t blame her. Pattie can’t help herself when she’s got a talent on her hands.” The man gives me a charming smile. “My name’s Dan Rogers. I work for a little label near here with some open studio time if you’re interested.”

My mouth goes dry. I shake his hand, and his grip is way too strong. He’s beaming at me with a smarmy grin and I know his type. They’re all over the place in this scene. Music men, talent and acquisitions specialists looking for the next big thing.

But I’m not it. I’m not remotely it.

Even if I wanted to perform in front of people, which I most definitely don’t, Alex’s lifestyle and career choice makes that difficult. We want to avoid scrutiny, not invite it into our lives.

And that’s fine with me. I don’t resent him one bit. Even though I love music and adore playing, I definitely don’t want to get into the whole performance thing.

That’s a rat race I want to avoid.

“Thanks for the interest, Mr. Rogers?—”

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Please, call me Dan. Mr. Rogers is just a little…”

“Too much like the kid’s show?”

“I was going to say fucking lame but sure, that too.” He shifts slightly so he’s standing even closer. I have to back away to get some more personal space, which he doesn’t mind since he just leans in again. “Look, I get it, I’m a total stranger. I’m just saying, there’s some time at the studio coming up and we don’t have any bookings. Our rates are extremely reasonable?—”

“Let me stop you right there. You want me to pay for my time?”

“Sure,” he says with a shrug. “Industry standard.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not really interested.”

“Ah, come on. I heard about you and your husband. You can afford a measly few hundred dollars, and imagine what it’ll do for your career. Get some legitimately engineered stuff out there? Throw it up on YouTube? Film yourself in a pretty dress and I bet you’ll get a million views.”

My jaw tightens. I don’t like the way he’s staring at me now. Even though I’m visibly pregnant, he doesn’t seem to care—the sleazy dickhead’s ogling me right in the middle of this party.

“I’m not interested, Mr. Rogers. Thanks for the offer though.”

“You got it though. I saw the second Pattie played me that recording.” He shows me a perfectly straight set of teeth. “Well, okay, she didn’t show me. I actually looked over her shoulder when she was playing it for someone else, but still. I’m legit, darling, don’t you worry. We can make something beautiful.”

“I said?—”

“I’m happy to give you a discount or you can just book a half-hour. Whatever works. Bang out a song or two. Prove what we can do. All that stuff.”

“No, I don’t?—”

He opens his mouth again and that’s when a big hand clamps down on his shoulder and forcibly yanks him away from me.

Alex stands in front of him with murder in his eyes. And that’s a scary freaking thing. Dan goes deathly pale as Alex leans in, lips curled in disgust.

“Did my wife just tell you to fuck off? And did you just ignore her?”

“I don’t—I mean, I was talking business?—”

“She’s not interested. If you say another word, I will break your fucking jaw in front of all these people, you slimy fuck. Now, be smart and walk away.”

Dan nods rapidly. Alex squeezes his shoulder once, making the asshole grimace before shoving him away. Dan staggers and disappears into the crowd. A few people are watching, and one young girl raises her drink at me in a salute.

I get the sense that Mr. Rogers isn’t popular.

“You good?” Alex leans up against me, one arm wrapped around my shoulder.

“I was about to knee him in the balls.”

“Saved you the trouble then.”

“Pattie’s got a recording of my concert.”

“I heard. Want me to handle it?”

“No, I’ll talk to her.” I sigh and lean against his chest.

I love Pattie, but she can be pushy and too involved sometimes. She’s sweet and well-meaning though, and I’m sure she’ll be both embarrassed and livid when she hears about this little interaction.

“You know, I love these parties.”

My eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“It’s not the people or the drinks or really anything, but you look like you’re at home here. And I love that.”

I let out a soft laugh. “You know, for a big, scary man, you’re surprisingly soft sometimes.”

“Only for you, baby.” He kisses my neck. “If you ever change your mind and want to record?—”

“I won’t. I don’t.”

“But if you do, I’m behind you. We’ll make it work.”

“Alex—”

“I know what that would mean, and I don’t care. You deserve a life outside of me and you. You deserve whatever you want.”

“That’s a bit much.”

“I mean it.”

And that’s the thing—I know he does, entirely, fully, with his whole big heart, and that’s why I love him so much.

Maybe I’ll take him up on it someday when things are settled.

But for now?

This is more than enough.