12. I Want to Have Your Baby
12
I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABY
MAGGIE
Kinda Complicated By Scott Helman
I t’s not like I had a ton of shit in the first place, but as I stuff my belongings into my bag, I’m struggling to zip it closed. I huff in frustration, finally resigning myself to leave it gaping open. Glancing around the cramped bus one last time, I make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Felix left shortly after Dusty interrupted our dance, and he hasn’t returned yet.
I know I’m not the easiest roommate—or the cleanest—and Felix has not held back from mentioning my less-than-stellar habits. I expected him to be here, perhaps smirking as he witnessed my packing chaos, eager to reclaim his bus, but he’s absent, leaving me to manage my mess alone.
Stepping into the bathroom, I scan for any forgotten essentials and spot a stray tampon still in its wrapper lying on the floor. I pick it up, contemplating tossing it in my bag, but my gaze lands on his bedroom calling to me like a beacon. I slip the tampon under his pillow, giving it a playful pat before exiting.
He didn’t really think I was going to leave without a parting gift, did he?
I swing open the refrigerator and rearrange the line of yogurts. It’s childish, I know.
The trailer door slams shut behind me as I make my way to the new bus. Its shiny exterior gleams beneath the sun’s rays, and as I step inside, I’m met with the sight of other female crew members already bustling about.
On one of the lockers beside an empty bunk, I spot a sticker with my name on it. I toss my things onto the mattress, and the silence that follows feels heavier than I anticipated. Everyone knows what happened—after all, I’m the reason they’re on this bus now.
I sit cross-legged, pulling out some of my equipment, and as I shove my laptop into the locker next to my bunk, Kate, the sound technician, approaches me.
She’s tall, her head dipping slightly to gauge my expression. “Hey.” I brace myself. “I’ve been in this business long enough to handle myself, you know. I’ve put up with my fair share of real assholes,” she says.
“Look, I’m sor…” I start, but she interrupts.
“But there are some things we shouldn’t have to put up with just because we can.”
My eyes widen in surprise; I hadn’t expected such solidarity from her. “Oh,” I manage to respond, momentarily taken aback, which is rare for me.
“Abel was a shit rigger anyway,” she says, a smile lighting up her face, and I laugh with her.
“So, you stayed on Felix’s bus?” she inquires, raising an eyebrow. My stomach knots at the question.
“Unfortunately,” I groan, flicking my camera on to check the battery, desperately hoping she doesn’t pry further.
“Oh, I thought maybe…” she trails off, leaving the suggestion floating in the air.
“Ew, no.” I grimace, quickly dismissing the idea.
She bursts out laughing. “It couldn’t have been that bad. Felix is, well… yum.” She raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her face.
Yum and then some. But I’m not some groupie.
“I’m sure, but I have a job to do,” I say, raising my camera to my face, finding refuge behind the lens.
Kate pulls her hair back into a low ponytail. “Well, anyway, I need to prepare for soundcheck. Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay. You know, after…”
“I’m fine.” I soften my tone, appreciating her concern. I want to downplay the situation, to utter that nothing really happened, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. It’s never acceptable for anyone to behave like Abel did. “Thank you,” I add as she makes her way to the door.
She pauses. “This bus is choice,” she says with a laugh, and the other women join in. One glances back, smiling.
“Thank God we don’t have to worry about finding some random boxers in the middle of the floor.”
“Or being expected to wash the fucking dishes just because I have a vagina,” the other woman chimes in, and I can’t help but laugh along, my nerves slightly eased.
As I move to settle into the bunk, my phone lights up with a text.
Dylan: The sheets are 1000 thread count and new, you prissy drama queen.
Me: Shut up you Matcha-loving hipster
Dylan: If anything ever happened to you…
Fucking Dylan.
I take a moment to relish the bus in solitude, charging my camera as I dive into more editing until it’s time for the concert.
I get so lost in the footage that I don’t realize what time it is until the setting sun sweeps across my bed. I quickly save my progress and stow my laptop away.
As I throw on a change of clothes and grab my camera, I step outside, heading toward the venue. The air is thick with humidity, and dark clouds gather ominously as I walk through the fairgrounds. The main stage looms ahead, and I can’t help but notice the unusually large crowd gathered—this level of anticipation normally builds up later in the night for the headliner.
When I reach the gate, I search for my badge, but the lanyard isn’t around my neck.
Shit!
“I’m with the band,” I tell the security guard.
“You and half the girls in the crowd,” he answers, giving me a smirk.
Velvet Drift goes on in ten minutes and I don’t have time to go back and get my badge.
“Dusty!” I peer around the security guard to get his attention.
“I forgot my badge. Will you tell this guy I belong here?”
He gives me a heavy look and then motions for the man to step aside. “Ain’t got time to worry about you when I got a whole crew to look out for, Maggs,” he says as we walk hurriedly through the backstage area.
I feel the tears prick at my eyes because I know this. “Won’t happen again.”
“Maggs!” Dex calls, his big smile beaming as he catches sight of me. “Where the fuck you been? Did you see the crowd?” he asks enthusiastically, and I glance at Felix, who looks uncharacteristically nervous.
I don’t say that I forgot my badge because that would make me look unprofessional.
“Yeah, amazing,” I say, a little out of breath and with less enthusiasm than I mean.
Bash runs up behind me, hoisting me up by the waist. “Need help getting up on the speaker tonight, Maggs?”
I giggle in his grip.
“Can you just fucking put her down and take this seriously?” Felix barks, shaking his head.
Bash gently sets me back on my feet. “Geez, what crawled up your butt?”
“Nothing. We need to focus.” Felix directs his gaze toward me momentarily.
What did crawl up his butt?
As thunder rumbles in the distance and the wind picks up, I scan the audience—the sea of faces that only grows despite the gathering storm.
“Everybody give a warm welcome to Velvet Drift!” the lead singer from Radio Prison booms before exiting the stage, and the crowd erupts into a deafening roar that rivals the approaching storm. I can only hope the weather holds out for Felix’s performance.
The guys run out onto the stage while I get into position.
“Thank you, Tulsa!” Felix screams into the microphone, sending the crowd into a frenzy. He launches straight into the first song, its heavy guitar intro setting the stage ablaze. I stand at the edge, watching him navigate the stage effortlessly before he starts singing.
Panning out to the crowd, my attention is caught by a waving sign, and I zoom in for a closer look.
Felix, I want to have your baby! it reads.
Gross. What kind of desperate girl holds a sign up like that?
I’m maneuvering around the cords, but I trip over one, nearly biffing it right in front of everyone.
Felix turns his head at the last moment, eyes wide as he watches me kick the cords with the toe of my shoe.
He shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t lose his rhythm, strutting around the stage. The crowd eats it up. He must notice the sign too, because he grabs the mic and points in that direction. “I love you, too!” He laughs, giving the girl a wink, and she shakes the sign.
I roll my eyes, moving to the back of the stage. Capturing their performance from behind offers a unique perspective, and I climb up on one of the risers for a better view. Just then, a drop of rain splatters across my lens, and I feel a few cold droplets hit my cheek.
Shit. I can’t let my camera get wet.
I search backstage and find an unused garbage bag, fashioning it as a makeshift cover for my camera. It’s not glamorous, but it’ll do.
I weave through clusters of people until I’m back at the VIP area, standing in front of the stage while security watches from the sidelines. By now, the rain is coming down in steady sheets, yet it doesn’t deter the eager crowd. The moisture soaks through my clothes, and my shoes squish in the muddy grass, but my camera is protected.
I aim toward the stage where Felix stands at the edge, absorbed in the moment. He seems to be reveling in the thrill, and as the song ends, he holds the mic tightly in hand, spreads his arms wide, and tilts his head toward the dark sky. It’s an incredible shot, and I snap a few frames, capturing the contours of his toned chest as his damp shirt clings to him.
Good lord, my ovaries are screaming.
But I keep snapping photos.
He brings the mic back to his lips, and the deafening roar of the crowd envelops us, even as he tries to rally them down.
“Okay, okay,” he calls out, trying to calm them, “You must really like the show if you’re willing to stay out here in this rain.”
Their cheer builds even louder, echoing like thunder.
“If you’re gonna stay, then so are we!” Felix announces, and Dex jumps in, counting off for the next song, his grin wide.
Felix struts toward Bash, and they engage in a friendly guitar duel, their camaraderie palpable, and I can’t help but smile. I’ve never witnessed him this animated before. It’s fun, full of electricity, and somehow, a little rain has broken him free.
If people didn’t know who Velvet Drift were before, they sure as hell do now.
Updating the band’s social media with a quick video, I tuck my phone back into my pocket. The rest of the show is nothing short of spectacular, with rain pooling on the stage, and every time Felix moves, it splashes around him like performance art.
As the show winds down, Felix screams into the mic, “Thank you, Tulsa! You’ve been amazing!”
He throws an arm around Bash, sharing a few quick words before he turns back to the crowd. In a bold move, he struts to the edge and locks eyes with me, a devious grin spreading across his face. With a wink, he yanks his shirt off and helicopters it through the air, tossing it to the audience.
My heart races, and I push the wet hair from my face as I pan the camera across the crowd.
I’m shivering by the time I reach the backstage area, just in time to see the guys stepping off stage. My shoes squeak against the flooring.
“You look like a wet dog,” Dex laughs.
“Gosh, you’re such a gentleman,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes. “No wonder you can’t even get a groupie in your bed.”
Bash bursts into laughter, and Gunner jokingly punches him in the arm.
“I get plenty of groupies,” Dex insists defensively.
“I can personally attest to the fact that Dex has gone to bed each night with only his fist,” Bash mocks, making an exaggerated sexual noise.
“Oh, fuck off,” Dex growls, and I can’t stifle my giggles, covering my mouth with my hand. I glance at Felix. His hair drips with rain, and I watch each droplet fall from his jawline onto his bare chest, my breath catching.
His gaze meets mine, and he smiles. It’s a smile that makes my heart race and my cheeks flush. He grabs a towel from one of the crew, wiping his face, and I scowl at him playfully before turning on my heel, heading toward the gate.
“Where do you think you’re going, Sass?” Felix grabs my arm, but I shake him off.
“Back to my bus, Dad .”
“Just give me a minute, and I’ll walk you back,” he insists.
“I’m fine,” I reply, continuing my march through the gate. “Besides, don’t you need to go make a baby with Miss Desperate?”
“You’re never gonna let me live that down.”
I rear back in mock defense. “Have you met me?”
I attempt to make my way back to my bus.
“Maggie,” Felix says my name in a firm tone that sends a jolt through me.
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” I pick up my pace, but my short legs can’t compete with his long strides.
“You wanna be like that, Sass? Fine.” He snatches my camera from me, holding it hostage as I trail after him, determination written across my face.
“What is your damage?”
“You think I could sleep tonight not knowing if you made it to your bus safe? Fuck no, Maggs,” he rumbles, his deep voice full of conviction.
“What about the other girls on the crew? Are you gonna walk them to the bus every night too?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow.
“Dusty makes sure they’re okay,” he replies matter-of-factly.
“So, why am I the lucky one who gets you ?” I throw my hands up dramatically.
He halts, and I encounter the intensity of his gaze, feeling a pang of guilt for my attitude. “Fuck, Maggie, do you need to ask?”.
We share a fleeting moment, and I turn toward my bus.
“You were really great tonight,” I offer sincerely.
Felix rakes a hand through his still-damp hair. “Was it because I took my shirt off?” he smirks.
“Fuck off,” I retort, but his laughter is irresistible.
“Come on, Sass, I was just…”
“Being an asshole?”
“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “It felt really good tonight. Like the band just clicked.”
It’s clear that meant more to him than the crowd size.
Pulling out my phone, I’m bombarded with a flood of notifications from the video I posted. I shove it in Felix’s face. “I think you more than just clicked.”
“Holy shit!” He snatches it from me, scrolling through the comments and shares with wide eyes.
“I only put the band’s name, in case you were wondering,” I say, crossing my arms with a smirk.
He hands my phone back, still wearing that wide grin. “I just wanted to prove to myself that I could make it without my famous last name. I guess now it doesn’t matter so much.”
“Who says lightning can’t strike twice? Just in a different way,” I suggest, kicking at the wet gravel beneath our feet.
“You know, if you ever wanna stop by my bus to say hi, I wouldn’t mind,” he offers casually.
“Kinda sounds like you miss me,” I tease, my heart beating slightly faster.
“Yeah, I miss being kept up all night by your snoring,” he laughs.
“Thanks for walking me to my bus,” I admit, a genuine warmth in my voice. He hits the side of the bus with his palm and backs away once I’m securely inside.
At this point in the tour, everything seems to blend together—reels of footage floating in my mind—but I doubt I’ll ever forget tonight.