Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  “I don’t know why you bother wearing any,” he said with a knowing smile. “It’s not like you spend much time wearing it.”

  “I wear it because you like taking it off me,” she quipped.

  “Yeah, I do,” he admitted and they tumbled onto the clean sheet where he proceeded to remove the offending article of clothing and take full advantage of her soft, yielding body.

  Later that evening as they cuddled on the front porch and watched the sunset, Mick’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, glanced at it, noticed the backlog of messages he had ignored throughout the day. With a sigh, he said, “I suppose I should answer these.”

  Sonia kissed his bare arm and said, “It’s a working vacation for you, although I never understood that term. What an oxymoron.”

  He pressed a kiss into her hair, grateful for her understanding. She gazed steadily at the horizon as the sun slowly sank into the ocean. She could almost imagine hearing the splash and sizzle of the fiery disc hitting the cold saltwater, even though she knew no such thing actually happened. Mick again found himself grateful for her display of incuriosity. She allowed him privacy while sitting beside him, which he appreciated.

  “Want to see pictures of the condos Jay found for us?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she answered and leaned over to peer at the pictures on his cell phone.

  The first option she dismissed out of hand. “I don’t like it, too dingy.”

  Mike thought the space looked all right, but she would be the one living there for six months, not he, so he reasoned that the condo should meet her requirements. The second option held promise: she liked the space, but it did not come with appliances. The third looked cozy, but he disliked the neighborhood and she agreed that a safe neighborhood location was prudent. They both liked the fourth option, but Sonia thought it too expensive and the space far more than what she needed.

  “We like this one,” he replied to Jay’s message which contained information and pictures of the second condominium. He kissed her hair again and promised they’d go to Vegas a little earlier than planned to purchase those necessary appliances and have them delivered and installed. “It’s not like I have a garage full of tools.”

  “That’s okay,” she said and yawned.

  “Tired, baby?”

  “A bit.”

  “Go on to bed and get some rest.”

  “You’re not joining me?”

  He gave her a soft smile and said, “There’s a new song running through my brain. I think it’s ready to be worked on. If it won’t disturb you, I’ll play around with that for a while.”

  She nodded, understanding that sometimes creativity simply needed mental percolation before expression. Some of her best recipes were created that way. She stretched to kiss his stubbled cheek and bade him good-night. Since they weren’t falling into bed together tearing at each other’s clothes, she took the opportunity to indulge in a long, hot soak in the tub to soothe aching muscles.

  Snuggled in bed, she drifted off to sleep with the softly played sounds of an acoustic guitar rising lightly on the ocean breeze.

  Mick played late into the night until his fingertips were raw and his eyes blurring with weariness. The song that looped in his mind was joyful, playful, teasing. With sudden inspiration, he realized that the guitar wasn’t the right instrument to carry the melody. It needed the violin. Tomorrow, he told himself as he gently set the guitar in its case. He’d work on it some more tomorrow.

  He took a quick shower then snuggled into bed next to Sonia. She sighed when his weight settled behind her, smiled softly when his arm curled around her. His heart swelled with joy. Even in her sleep Sonia welcomed him.

  This is what happiness feels like, he thought as consciousness left him.

  Sonia woke before Mick. She took a morning walk, leaving a note on the nightstand so he wouldn’t worry if he woke while she was out. He was still sleeping when she returned and still sleeping after she took a shower and dressed. When, she wondered, had he come to bed last night? Trying not to disturb him and show him the same courtesy he had shown her, she worked on breakfast: cinnamon rolls. They’d take a nice long while to make and the deliciously tantalizing smell of them baking would wake him gently. After all, absolutely no one could be angry waking to the delicious aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls.

  She was right.

  “Marry me,” Mick begged as he bit into a warm, gooey pastry. He groaned as the cinnamon melted on his tongue with the sweetness of frosting and the yeasty goodness of the bread.

  “I think I did that already,” she answered with a sparkling smile.

  “Marry me again.”

  “Perhaps we ought to wait for our anniversary before renewing our vows.”

  He counted back: “It’s our ninth day anniversary.”

  She laughed delightedly. “I’m glad you like them.”

  He smiled, then frowned and said, “Don’t ever make these for any other man. He’ll propose and then I’ll have to kill him.”

  “Only you,” she promised, then her eyes lit up, “and our children.”

  He choked. “Ch-children?”

  “Well, yes, you do realize how babies are made and that the frequency of our practice pretty much guarantees we will have children?”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  “I have.”

  “D-do you want ch-children?”

  Sonia wasn’t sure how to react to his anxiety, so she tried to keep her tone light and to hide her hurt that her husband might not want children. But she wasn’t quite successful. “Yes, I do want kids someday, if not right away.”

  “Then you’re not pregnant?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  His relief was palpable.

  “Would that be so awful?” she asked, her voice small and quiet.

  “Not awful,” he reassured her, “just not expected.”

  “I think you’d make a good father,” she said. She wanted him to want to have children.

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked suspiciously.

  “It’s just that birth control doesn’t work one hundred percent of the time and I need to know that it’s okay with you if, for some reason, it doesn’t work.”

  Mick’s eyes narrowed as he realized that this uncomfortable conversation was of utmost importance. “Sonia,” he said as earnestly as he knew how, “if we have a baby, even if it’s an unplanned baby, then I’ll be the best father I can be just as you’ll be the best mother you can be. Nothing we make together will be unwanted.”

  Her features, tight with worry, relaxed with relief.

  “I have to go into town today and pick up a refill on my prescription,” she said.

  “All right. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll drive you.”

  “I do have my rental car, you know.”

  “I know, but I like driving you, spending time with you.” Even when we’re not screwing each other’s brains out.

  “All right,” she acquiesced and handed him another sweet roll. “I like just being with you, too.”

  “And here I thought you married me for my body,” he whined dramatically.

  She laughed as he meant her to do and ate a roll.

  When he finished inhaling the cinnamon rolls, he washed and retreated with his violin. Soon the strains of his latest composition floated joyfully on the breeze. Yes, he thought, this song was perfect for the violin. He ran through it a couple more times, then called Jack.

  “Hey, man, listen to this.”

  He picked up the violin and played.

  “What do you think?” he asked three minutes later.

  Jack’s appreciative whistle pierced his eardrum. “Fabulous stuff, maestro.”

  “You think the rest of the band will like it?”

  “If not, fuck ‘em,” Jack replied. “Anyway, you need to play this one solo. Maybe some soft drums or wood flute, but Kristof and I will bow out. This one needs be kept spare and pure. K
eyboard and electric guitar will just muck it up.”

  Mick sighed with relief. Jack’s opinion carried a lot of weight in the band.

  “I’ll need lyrics. I’m not sure I have the words for this.”

  Jack gave his informed opinion: “I don’t really think that tune needs lyrics. Keep it pure, man. Keep the music pure.”

  Mick gave it some thought. The band had never produced an instrumental. Would their fans like it or reject it? Jack seemed to intuit his concern.

  “Don’t overthink it, Mick,” he cautioned. “More is not always better.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Anytime,” Jack replied and meant it. “You keep that girl with you. She brings out the best you’ve ever done.”

  “I love her, Jack. I really love her.” Mick’s tone conveyed an element of wonder, of surprise, as if he could not quite believe the truth of his feelings.

  Jack’s voice went soft and serious: “I know you do, Mick. You’ve gotten lucky, so damned lucky with her. And I could see that she loves you back, no matter how quickly you two got together. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “I won’t,” he promised and knew with utter certainty that Jack was jealous. The band’s biggest man-whore envied him that love and happiness, even if he’d die before admitting it.

  Mick put the violin away, then called Jay.

  “Hey, man, Sonia and I want to see that condo on Lighthouse Street,” he said after the obligatory pleasantries.

  “I’ll get on it. What about the others?”

  “Nah, just that one.”

  “You got your heart set on it?”

  “No necessarily, why?”

  “Just in case it’s already been sold,” Jay said. “But I’m sure there are others available in the same complex.”

  “Okay.”

  “When do you want to see it?”

  “Schedule a visit in a few days. We can fly out and back the same day. It’s a short flight.”

  “Trouble in paradise already?”

  “No, we just like it out here. I want to buy this cottage, too.”

  “I wasn’t aware that it was for sale.”

  “Anything’s for sale if you offer the right price, Jay. You know that.”

  “Real estate in Monterrey is hideously expensive, Mick.”

  “I know that. But I’ve been careful with my money and I know I can afford to buy a cottage on the beach.”

  Jay hummed his acknowledgement of Mick’s fiscal prudence. With five solid years of gold and platinum hits behind them, none of the band members was even remotely poor. But only Mick and Davis had been so careful with the disposition of their fortunes. Jay’s experience in managing talent affirmed that money flowed through most musicians’ fingers like water.

  “You’re sure about this, Mick?”

  “Yeah. It’ll make a nice vacation home for us. And I can rent it out when we’re not planning on using it.”

  Jay nodded to himself. Mick always had an eye for turning an income on something.

  “I’ll check on it,” he promised. Since he’d been the one to handle the rental agreement, he’d contact the property owners.

  “I appreciate it, thanks.”

  “Is there anything else, Mick?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got some new songs to add to the set list.”

  “Like the three tunes you launched at the music festival?”

  “You know about those?”

  “I know everything, Mick.”

  The rock star grinned because that was nearly the truth. “So, what did you think of them?”

  Knowing that his client really wanted to know his opinion and wasn’t just fishing for compliments, Jay replied honestly, “They’re good. Actually, those were the best songs you’ve ever done.”

  “I’ve got another one.”

  “Really?”

  “No lyrics. It’s an instrumental.”

  “I know what an instrumental is. Send me a recording.” Jay paused, then added, “You’re veering away from your usual stuff.”

  “Well, we don’t want to get typecast into a specific sound. If we have a range of music, good music, we’ll stay fresh.”

  “Can’t argue with that. Otherwise why would so many radio stations still play those old songs by Queen?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jay finalized arrangements for Mick and Sonia’s move to Las Vegas, ending that conversation with a recommendation that Mick get a damned secretary, because that’s not what Jay was paid to do.

  “I hear you, man,” Mick said. “I really do appreciate this extra stuff you’ve been doing for us.”

  “I’ll be adding it to my monthly invoice for services, trust me,” came the dry response.

  Mick looked up to see Sonia waiting for him, the strap of her purse slung over her shoulder.

  “Hey, I gotta go. Thanks again, Jay.” He ended the call and smiled at Sonia. “I guess you’re ready.”

  She smiled back and nodded. He took a moment to return the violin to its protective case and joined her, placing his hand possessively at the small of her back as they walked to the truck. He fairly drooled as her rounded bottom rose in front of him when she climbed into the cab.

  “Buckle up, honey,” he said and closed the door behind him. A moment later he was buckling his own seatbelt. Before starting the engine, he clarified, “Just to the drugstore? Nowhere else?”

  “Yep,” she confirmed. “I’ll wait until we’re in Vegas before doing the heavy shopping.”

  He nodded, agreeing with the practicality of that plan. There was no use in shipping anything more than absolutely necessary. They could buy what they needed for the condo after arriving in Vegas. They chatted easily on the drive and Mick stayed close to her side as she ordered her next ninety days’ supply of birth control pills and then shopped for feminine hygiene products. She silently marveled that he showed no embarrassment on this errand, as most men would.

  “Have you thought about getting the shot?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  “Shot?”

  “Depo,” he replied. “It’s good for three months, so you don’t have to remember to take a pill every day.”

  She shrugged and said, “I looked into it a little bit, but there’s a common side effect of significant bone loss. Since osteoporosis runs in my mother’s family, I’m predisposed to it. I’d rather avoid that if I can.”

  He nodded his understanding and said, “I didn’t know.” He tried to imagine his young bride with white hair, wrinkled face, and dowager’s hump and could not.

  The pharmacy technician explained that there would be a half hour wait before the prescription could be filled, so they wandered up and down the aisles. Carrying a shopping basket, Sonia filled it with personal hygiene products and a box of chocolates. She stopped by the greeting cards and began perusing those.

  “My dad’s birthday is next week,” she explained as she picked out a card and read it. She put it back, finding it unsatisfactory. She scanned the shelf, plucked another for consideration, and asked, “When’s your birthday?”

  “February sixteenth,” he answered. “I’m twenty-eight years old.”

  She smiled up at him and quipped, “I always did like older men.”

  He bent his head to kiss the tender junction of neck and shoulder and murmured, “I’ll show you old when we get back to the cottage.”

  She giggled like a silly teenager and replied, “But you’ll have to feed me first.” She dropped the card into the basket.

  His eyelids lowered and the skin over his cheekbones went taut. The arm around her waist tightened and he rolled his groin into her round derriere. “I’ll feed you. Gladly.”

  An excited flush spread across her neck and upper chest as her breath caught at the sly innuendo. She made a visible effort to compose herself and replied, “Lunch, Mick. I meant lunch.”

  He ground himself against her again and said with studied nonchalance, “I can do that, too.”

  The public addres
s system within the store announced that her pharmacy order was ready for pick-up. They returned to the counter and Sonia paid for her pills and the rest of the items. They tossed the shopping bags behind the seat in the cab and drove to a nearby fast food establishment.

  “Oh, french fries. I have got to have french fries,” Sonia gushed, eyes sparkling.

  “All right,” Mick agreed. “A burger sounds good.”

  The restaurant was crowded, the wait staff harried, and the milkshakes phenomenal. Seated among crowded tables, none of the patrons paid the famous musician any attention, except to occasionally glance at the tattoos.

  “That hit the spot,” Sonia said, then erupted with a little burp. She covered her mouth and giggled. “Oops.”

  “Your compliments to the cook, I gather?” he commented with a small grin as he paid for their meal.

  She smiled back. “It’s not all that often I actually go out to eat, so it’s a nice treat now and then.”

  Mick rose and held out his hand. “Walk with me?”

  She took his hand and said, “Gladly.”

  They took to the sidewalk and strolled hand-in-hand, pausing occasionally in front of window displays that caught their attention. They talked about everything and nothing, the conversation easy and redolent of the familiarity of old friends. Mick silently marveled at it. He’d never before experienced such interaction with a woman. It was like she was one of the guys.

  Oh, no. Not one of the guys. Never that. He absolutely, positively did not want to fuck one of the guys. He searched his brain for a better analogy and could not find one.

  They stopped to look over a railing at pedestrians below and the ocean beyond. Mick moved behind Sonia and wrapped his arms around her waist. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked around.

  “Hey, are you Mick Hendriksen?” inquired a man who looked to be around the same age as he.

  Mick put on his publicity smile and nodded. Forcing a pleasant tone, he said, “Yes, I am. May I help you?”

  The man averted his gaze nervously, then looked back at the most recognizable member of Iron Falcon and asked, “Hi, I’m Gavin. I heard rumors you were in Monterrey. Wow, I can’t believe I’m meeting you. In person. Er, could I have your autograph?”