Sweet Little Thing

by Renee Carlino

  I drew my head back. “Uh uh, I don’t think so.” I nuzzled my nose into her neck and trailed kisses to her ear. I whispered, “Stay just like this. Don’t go anywhere.” I planted a swift kiss on her lips and jumped off the bed. “I’m goin’ to play B-ball with Tyler. Be back in a few.”

  As I left the room, I glanced over my shoulder and saw her lying there completely still, her mouth open in shock. I got halfway down the hallway before she finally yelled, “Asshole!”

  I bent in the hallway and patted June’s head. She rolled over and then got back on her feet and trotted off toward our bedroom.

  Before walking out the door, I called back to Mia, “Who’s predictable now, sweet thing?”

  In the weeks following our introduction to Chad, we were able to get eight solid songs laid down for his album. He had a decent voice, likely attributable to the well-paid vocal coach Live Wire had hired. There wasn’t much I could do about the fact that he sounded so young. I wished for more depth behind the vocals, but Chad wasn’t physically mature or trained enough to control his voice in that way. Once we were comfortable with the music, Mia skipped most of the sessions. She liked to be a part of the creation process but often got frustrated during the long post-production sessions, so she would let the other producers and me handle that.

  During one session, Chad’s manager, Michael Dolan, came to me with a concern. He was a pretty straight-laced guy from what I could tell. Chad’s parents looked to Michael as a manager but also as a babysitter for the nineteen-year-old budding superstar. Their concern was that once Chad tasted a moderate amount of fame, he would instantly become the male version of Lindsay Lohan. I didn’t see that in Chad. He was too naïve; at least, I thought he was. I really believed Chad was the puppet. I’d thought if we ever ran into a problem, it would be with the label, so it was to my absolute shock and horror when Michael came to me and said, “Chad wants to be in on all the sessions. He doesn’t feel like he’s getting enough creative control on the songs he’s written.” Michael was hovering over me as I sat at the sound board, shocked.

  I swiveled my chair around to make eye contact and noticed that Chad was cowering behind him. I leaned my head around, looked Chad right in the face, and said, “What fucking songs, Mike?”

  Michael took a step sideways to block the eye lasers I was shooting at Chad. “Now, Will, no need to lose your temper.”

  “I totally agree. Why don’t we start with the songs that Chad thinks he’s written?”

  “To begin with, ‘Lost N Found,’” Michael said.

  I jumped out of my seat. “You mean the piano ballad that Mia composed, the very song you watched her write?”

  “I wouldn’t say that Mia wrote that song.”

  “You’re saying that he wrote it?” I shot my index finger out in Chad’s direction.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” I clapped my hands once, reached around Michael, and grabbed pansy-ass Chad by the ear and proceeded to drag him from the control room to the sound room.

  “Ouch,” he said and tried to pull away.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Does that hurt?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Will. This is assault.” Michael was shouting behind us.

  I was fuming mad. I stopped and turned toward Chad. “You know what hurts? Wasting my time trying to help a little fuck-nut like you. Let’s go.” I pulled him over to the piano and pushed him down on the bench. “Okay. Play your song, Chad.”

  He looked up at Michael like a deer in headlights.

  Michael said, “Wait a minute, Will.”

  “Shut up, Mike.” I turned back to Chad. “Okay, fine. I know you can’t play the super-complicated masterpiece that my sweet, darling Mia wrote and was willing to let you perform!” I shouted. “Instead, why don’t you just play us ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’? Go ahead. Show us your musical prowess, Chaddy Boy. How about you start on the E above middle C?”

  He didn’t even put his hands on the keys; he just stared up at Michael and me and waited for someone to rescue him. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and read a text from Mia: I’ll be at Kell’s until 5. Do u wanna stay in 2nite and have naked dinner?

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I put the phone back in my pocket and took a deep breath. It was like Mia could sense when I needed her. There was this invisible string connecting our souls and it was as though we could feel each other tug on that string when we were hurting. I calmed significantly after reading her text.

  I looked down and in a relaxed, smooth voice I said, “Chad, do you know where middle C is?”

  He shook his head very slowly.

  I looked up to Michael. “The contract is void. I’ll deal with Live Wire.” I picked up Chad’s notebook from the top of the piano and handed it to him. “Take your songs and get the fuck out of my studio.”

  Chad mumbled something as he walked toward the door, to which Michael replied, “It’s okay.” Then he turned to me and said, “You’ll be hearing from our lawyer.”

  I said nothing in response. Staring out the front window, I watched until their car was out of sight. There was no one else in the studio that day, so I very solemnly closed up and rode the subway into the village. I stood outside of Kell’s, the coffee shop Mia had inherited after her father died. There was something warm about that place, like it held the type of familiarity a childhood home does. It was dusk and from the outside looking in, the café’s warm lighting was inviting; it always felt like a safe place. I know Mia felt that way too. I swung the door open and was immediately greeted by Martha.

  “Will, what a pleasure, honey.” She came up to me and kissed both of my cheeks. Martha was a longtime friend to Mia’s father. After he died, she’d remained a very big and influential part of Mia’s life. She also, along with Jenny, ran the coffee shop so that Mia could focus on music and getting the studio going. Still, Mia spent a lot of time with Martha at the café. I looked past the old, shining espresso machine that everyone called the monster and searched the rest of room but didn’t see Mia.

  “Hi, Martha. Is Mia in the back?”

  “No, she ran to the store and then she was going to drop by Jenny’s for a minute. She should be back soon. Have a seat—I’ll make you a cappuccino.”

  Jenny and Tyler, who were basically our best friends, had moved into the apartment Mia and I use to share on the same street as the café. Mia had also inherited the building, so she was basically renting the apartment out to Jenny and Tyler for dirt cheap. I didn’t care. Mia had a huge heart and I loved that she took care of the people who loved her.

  I sat at the bar facing out the front window and sipped my coffee. I watched a piece of paper float and twirl and fly up and fall down, all at the mercy of the wind.

  Martha stood behind me and watched the paper as well, until finally the wind carried it into the street where it was violently hit and pushed away by a passing car.

  “Sometimes we’re just along for the ride,” she said over my shoulder. “We can’t control everything; we can only do our best to control our reactions when life doesn’t go our way.”

  I spun the barstool around to look at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said before turning on her heel and heading back to the counter.

  I whirled back around to look out the window again and immediately spotted Mia. She was across the street and down a little way, standing underneath the bright fluorescent lights of the corner market. She had a paper bag in one hand and June’s leash in the other. It was dusk and starting to get cold. Mia zipped up her jacket and adjusted the bag under her arm. June was hopping all over the place like a maniac. Mia tried unsuccessfully for several minutes to get her to walk in a straight line. As I watched her, I thought how different it was to see her from afar as opposed to when she was in my arms. The kind of beauty that Mia possessed cannot be locked away. It cannot be kept, it’s not for me to own and steal away from the world. That realization suddenly gave me a new outlook on getting ma
rried.

  Marrying her was not for me to claim her as mine. Marriage is about the other person. I thought about that for a long time, watching as she slowly made her way down the street with June in tow. By marrying her, I would be promising to let Mia grow more fully into herself and become even more beautiful while I sat by watching, only getting involved when she tugged on those invisible strings connecting our souls. Mia would not be my wife to fulfill some need or occupy a void. Calling her my wife just meant that I would always get a front-row seat to her beauty as long as I cherished and respected it.

  That’s why I stayed on the stool that day, just watching. True love is the ironically selfless need to know that your person will be okay without you.

  She walked down and crossed the street near our old apartment where Jenny and Tyler currently lived. At one point, June pulled in the opposite direction, and instead of yanking on her leash, Mia just bent and scooped her up. When she disappeared into the building, I put my head down on the bar, closed my eyes, and starting humming the song I had written for her over a year before, when I didn’t think I would ever get to be in the front row.

  My phone buzzed. I looked down to another text from Mia: Not in the mood for naked dinner?

  I had forgotten that I hadn’t responded and sent back: I’m always in the mood for naked dinner.

  I’m at Jenny’s now. Gonna head home in a few minutes.

  I’m at Kell’s. I’ll wait for you.

  It was only about ten minutes before I saw Mia walking hurriedly past the big glass windows to the café door. She was wearing a black peacoat that fell past her knees. Half her face was bundled behind a layered gray scarf. She stalked right up to me as she pulled the scarf off and threw it on the wooden bar. I swiveled toward her so she could stand between my legs, and she put her hands on my face and kissed me quickly, as if to check if I was breathing.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

  God, I love her. “Do you think everyone in love feels the way we do?”

  She laughed once through her nose and hugged me to her chest. “We are so lucky, aren’t we?”

  “I had a horrible day.”

  She leaned back to look at my face. “What happened?”

  “Uh, well, Chad and Michael came in and claimed that Chad wrote your ballad. They said Chad should have more creative control. What a crock of shit, huh?”

  “Oh my God. What assholes. You know what, Will? You should have told them to have at it. Chad can’t even play an instrument. I doubt he knows what to do with his own dick, let alone a thirty-two-track sound board.”

  “I just told them to get out. I’ll let Frank deal with Live Wire.”

  “Will, we signed a contract.”

  “Fuck the contract.”

  She took a deep breath and then I watched as she began to tear up.

  “Oh, Jesus, Mia, what are you so worried about?”

  “We just need stability. We’re starting a life together.”

  A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb.

  “Everything will be fine,” I whispered. “You trust me, right?”

  She nodded.

  “What was in the bag you took to Jenny’s?”

  She swallowed hard. “A pregnancy test.”

  “Oh, man. I hope it was positive; they’ve been trying for so long.”

  Jenny had had a miscarriage earlier that year and afterward she and Tyler had tried without success for several months to get pregnant.

  “Yeah,” Mia said, staring out the window. “I left June at Jenny’s. I need to go get her and then we can head home.”

  When I stood up, I looked over to Martha at the counter. She was standing with her hand on her hip, giving Mia a disapproving look.

  “What?” Mia said to her.

  Martha huffed. “Where’s my hug?”

  We both laughed as we walked toward her.

  She hugged us at the same time for longer than usual and then said, “You have all you need right here between the two of you.”

  As we walked out of the café, I said to Mia, “What do you think she meant?”

  Mia shrugged and said, “Who knows?”

  Back at our loft in Brooklyn, Mia made dinner while wearing nothing but a frilly apron. It covered most of the front of her body but left her backside completely exposed. I loved that Mia was unaware of what her body did to me or to anyone, for that matter. She didn’t prance around sexily, but she wasn’t insecure either. She was just comfortable in her skin.

  She set a steaming bowl of mushroom risotto in front of me as I sat quietly at the counter. “Why are you so quiet, Will? More importantly, why are you still dressed? This is not fair.”

  “I’m just thinking about the bullshit that went down with Chad.”

  “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” She turned toward the stove and glanced back at her naked backside before giving me a displeased look.

  “I’m also admiring the view.” I smirked.

  She strutted back to me and pulled my bowl away just as I was about to reach for the fork. “You said it yourself, everything will be fine. Now go get naked or no dinner for you.”

  I came back out wearing boxers. Mia had moved dinner to our small square table near the edge of the kitchen. We normally sat at the bar to eat unless we were having a more formal dinner. I sat down at the table. Mia came over and set her bowl right next to mine, then took a seat on my lap.

  “Mm. Good choice,” I whispered behind her ear and then took in the crisp, clean scent of her hair.

  “I thought you would like it.” She leaned over and began eating.

  I sat back and ran my hands up and down her bare sides, all the way up to where the sides of her breasts were peeking from the apron and back down to her hips. I gripped her hard and pulled her back so that her ass was more flush against me. She moaned and then set down her fork.

  “We’ll starve to death if we keep up this naked dinner tradition.”

  “I don’t care.” She stood up but kept her back to me. “Take off your boxers.”

  My hands moved so fast that my boxers were a blur as I flung them into the other room. I sat back on the chair as she slowly lowered herself onto me, never turning around to see my expression. She probably knew it would resemble something like ecstasy.

  She whimpered and then quickly sucked in a breath through her teeth. At first the friction was more intense in that position.

  “Does it hurt, baby?”

  “No, I just have to get used to it.” She moved slowly and very gently up and down, and then after a minute, I could tell she became more comfortable as she started moving in small circles.

  I undid the knot of her apron, pulled it over her head, and tossed it aside as she continued grinding on top of me. I ran my hands up and down the soft skin at her sides and then to the front, where I cupped her breasts and pulled her harder so that her back was against my chest. She cried out but didn’t let up on her movements. Her breathing became rapid along with mine. I moved my hand down her front, between her breasts, and past her stomach until my fingers reached the place where our bodies joined. I touched her and moved my hand with the rhythm.

  “No, stop!” she cried out. Reaching for my hand, she tried to pull it away but she didn’t stop writhing on top of me. Her back was arched but her head was thrown all the way back and resting on my shoulder as she whimpered and breathed with her eyes focused on the ceiling.

  I licked and sucked at her neck. “You’re so close,” I said as I started to let her pull my hand away.

  The moment my fingers lost contact with her body, she slammed my hand back down. “Don’t stop,” she said and then cried out, “Oh, God!” before breaking into a boneless fit of spasms.

  She lay back on me, her body convulsing as I gripped her and felt my own release. I nuzzled my face into her neck and shoulder and just waited until our breaths returned to normal.

  “I�
�m sure the risotto is cold,” she murmured.

  “I’ve never cared less about anything in my life,” I said as I lifted her off me to stand.

  She turned and reached up on her toes and then threw her arms around my neck.

  “Let’s go take a shower. I’ll heat up dinner afterward.”

  Lying in bed that night, something peculiar happened. Weeks prior, Mia had convinced me that we should crate train June. That meant putting her in a little cage at night so she wouldn’t chew things and poop all over our loft. We’d spent several miserable nights listening to her yelp from the cage, but Mia kept saying, “This will work, trust me. We did it with Jackson. June will eventually love it in there.”

  I would beg Mia, “Please, I can’t take this torture; let’s let her out.”

  Mia would always say, “No. Come on, we have to be a team.”

  That one peculiar night as we lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for June to begin her torturous song, something changed in Mia. June only let out just the tiniest yelp, and Mia very slowly got up, walked to the cage, picked June up and said, “It’s okay, baby girl,” to her as she patted her on the head. She set June between us and slid back into bed.

  I let June curl up on my pillow, literally on top of my head, and then I turned to Mia. “Hey, my little ball-buster, are you getting soft on me?” I said to her.

  “No.” She sighed. “I just need to get some sleep.”

  “What happened to teamwork?”

  “Choosing my battles,” she said groggily before dozing off.

  Tyler and I were sitting in a shit-hole bar in Brooklyn, having a midday beer and talking about profound things like why some sports teams, like the Florida Marlins, are assigned to states and others, like the Boston Red Sox, belong to cities.

  “I’ve often pondered the very same question,” Tyler said.

  “It’s why I don’t watch sports. Nothing makes sense and it’s a pointless pastime. If you’re the athlete competing, it’s one thing, but to just sit there and watch? What’s the point? We don’t sit around watching people paint pictures.”