Rock Me Baby

by Jesse Jordan

  “Great. How about I pick you up at noon?” Joey asks. “I mean, that's like a normal lunch time, right?”

  “Last time I heard. But you're a rock star, and I'm a newspaper reporter, noon might be breakfast for you and who knows what meal for me. But yeah, noon would be great.”

  Joey chuckles and I feel a little quiver in my belly. “Okay. So, yeah, I'll see you Thursday then. Thanks for calling, Andrea.”

  “Thanks for letting me ask you out, Joey. So... good night.”

  “Yeah, good night.”

  I hang up first, not wanting to, but after I do, I feel much better. Yeah, I got exactly zero work done today. Yeah, Chad was an asshat who made me feel like shit, and the way he upped his aggressiveness worries me.

  But I got a decent workout in, and then I was able to work up the guts to call and get a date Thursday afternoon with Joey Rivera. I think that's a great way to end the day.

  Chapter 4

  Joey

  “Okay Joey, let's go ahead and take it from the top,” Cora says over the mic. “Just like you showed me yesterday.”

  I start with the first chord of what I've been working on, not quite the same riff that I played for Andrea, but something that I was thinking would make a good backing track for something. It's bluesy, with just a little bit of a naughty hanky-panky.

  “Shit!” I yell, letting go of my guitar after screwing up a transition, clapping my hands together in anger and wanting to punch the soundproofing of the recording booth. It's really useful that way, the padding takes a good punch without damaging your knuckles.

  “Whoa, slow down, bud,” James, our new publicist says from the booth where he's sitting next to Cora, watching the whole session. “I just stop by to see what you two are up to, and I come in to see you about ready to wreck a perfectly good Stratocaster.”

  “Sorry, James. I guess I'm a little...” I start, before stopping. James is all of four feet tall, and I'm still not sure how to approach short comments around him. “Sorry.”

  “About what? Being a little... short-tempered?” James wisecracks, making Cora laugh. James really is a good guy, a former producer who cracked up under the pressure of working with too many groups at once. Now in his mid-forties, he knows the business inside and out, even if he does look like a cross between the world's shortest roadie and an accountant who's got a Harley in the garage. When Larry approached him about being the band's publicist, James jumped at the chance, saying he'd love to have just one group to deal with for a while. He's pulled himself together pretty well in my opinion, and he's got a wicked sense of humor. “I told you, Joey, I've got you beat where it counts. Every inch I'm under average height, I gain in size downstairs.”

  Cora slaps him on the shoulder, and even I laugh at James' comment. “And I thought the boys were bad!”

  James laughs and puts up his hands. “I can't help it. Call it my mid-life crisis. So, Joey, what's up?”

  Cora turns her attention back to me, nodding through the glass. “Yeah, what's up Joey? Yesterday you were a guitar god like normal, today you're....”

  “A little short?” James asks, and Cora punches him in the shoulder again. “Woman, if you weren't pregnant...”

  “You'd be hitting on me,” Cora finishes for him, “despite Rocky. But enough of you. Joey?”

  I take off my guitar and sit down, taking a drink from the water bottle on top of my practice amp. “Ah... just I kinda met this girl...”

  “Woo-hoo!” Cora immediately cheers, coming out of the producer's booth and entering the recording booth to give me a high five. “Okay, spill it, buddy. I want details and all your innermost thoughts. Or else!”

  James is right behind, with a chair for Cora before he hops up on the only remaining stool in the studio. “What she said.”

  I feel myself blushing furiously, and Cora giggles. “Okay, okay,” I finally say. “You remember last Friday, I had that interview with the reporter from the Pulse? Turned out it was Andrea Coates.”

  “Coates?” James asks, shocked. “We hadn't exchanged last names, just a phone call with first names, and then I talked a little with a receptionist there while she was out. So, Coates as in related to Darren Coates, owner of the Pulse and about a dozen other newspapers and media outlets around the West Coast?”

  I blink, shocked. “Uh... I guess. She drove a pretty sweet Lexus and she gave me an address in Santa Monica when she called me Monday night to ask me out on a date.”

  “I hope to God you said yes,” James says excitedly. “I mean, I've never seen a picture of her that I know of, I said she was cute on the receptionist's word, but... she must really be into you to call you up to ask you out. No offense, Joey.”

  “It's cool,” I reply, smiling a bit in amazement. “Yeah... I guess so. I mean, the whole interview, I just had this vibe, like we were totally digging on each other.”

  “So, what's got you nervous? You have a date tomorrow,” Cora says. “Really, it's not that strange, when was the last date you had? Two, three weeks ago?”

  I shake my head, laughing a little. “Try two or three years ago. A real date I mean, not a hookup date. I guess, well, I guess I've kinda got cold feet about it right now, that's all.”

  Cora smiles, a dazzling smile as she shifts closer and puts an arm around my shoulder. “You know Joey, the past year or so, we've gotten close, right?”

  “You know we're close. You're mi hermosa,” I tell her. And it’s true, she’s great for Rocky, and great for all of us.

  “Well, what you have to get over, is your overdeveloped sense of humbleness when it comes to the off-stage Joey Rivera,” Cora says, rubbing my hair. “You're a great guy, and you are a total catch, you know that?”

  “I'm just a guy from Pasadena,” I reply, and Cora shakes her head, tugging on my hair. “Ow! Producer abuse, producer abuse!”

  “Hush, chico. Seriously, why worry about it? I mean, is this girl cute?” Cora asks, smiling but letting go of my hair.

  “Cute? She's a full-on hottie, Cora. Honey blond hair, some of the biggest amazing green eyes... but she's smart, too. I just... I got a feeling about this one,” I admit. “And I don't want to blow it.”

  James clears his throat and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Let me offer an older, wiser perspective, Joey. You guys know, I'm divorced. Hell, my ex-wife really cut me off at the knees, sorry to get in another short joke. But she really did screw me over, and I won't say it's all her fault. I wasn't the world's best husband when I was going through career burnout. So, you'd think I'd be telling you to take your time, to make sure you don't screw up. But I'm not. You like this girl, go have a fun date. I mean, dude, it's your first date with her. It doesn't work out, big deal, you go have a fun Halloween, and then we'll all go over to Rocky’s place or something while he's on his honeymoon and wreck it after Thanksgiving. If it works out, it works out and you see where it goes. But don't you ever put yourself in the situation where you sit back and wonder what if because you let your feet get too damn cold.”

  I nod and bump James' held out fist before I give Cora a gentle hug. “Okay you guys, I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, maybe I can get through this one song. Cora, you don't mind?”

  “Nah, Rocky and Bella are going to be doing their Daddy-Daughter bonding thing for a couple more hours at least,” Cora replies. “It's cute to watch them, but they need some time just the two of them too. The last time, I came home and Rocky had his hair done up with pink ribbons.”

  That one made even me laugh.

  “Joey!” Angel yells, running across the living room to jump into my arms. I swing my little nephew up, giving him a squeeze before I tighten my arms and start tickling his ribs, making him squeal in delight. “Stop, stop, I tap out!”

  “I see your mama's been letting you watch lucha libre again,” I joke, setting him down. “Who'd you watch today?”

  “No lucha. ESPN,” Angel says, grinning up at me and taking my hand. He loves just leading me aro
und the house, showing me what he's been up to that day, and the longer I'm out of the house, the longer he wants to show me. Coming home from the latest leg of our tour, he spent nearly two hours dragging me around the old house, showing me all the stuff he'd done as he packed up everything for the move to the new house in Thousand Oaks. “They had UFC on.”

  “Ah, that's much better,” I joke, rubbing his brown hair. Unlike the other members of the Rivera family, Angel's got medium brown hair instead of black, and he's nearly as pale as a white guy, unlike my natural light tan. He's really the embodiment of his name, he's got an angel face and a grin that is going to melt hearts when he hits his teenage years. I'm going to have to watch him to make sure his good looks aren't used to get himself into trouble. “Hey, where's Maria, anyway?”

  “Mommy went to the store to get things,” Angel says. “Gramma is on the computer. She's been there for like, hours!”

  “Thanks, little man,” I reply, heading towards the back. It's only a three-bedroom place, but I let Mama keep the computer in my room, mainly because I'm out of the house a lot when we tour or are in the studio, so it’s a home office for now.

  I find Mama typing away. Her hair is pulled back and has a gray streak that hits me in the stomach like a fist. She didn't have that streak when Papa was alive. It wasn't until after Papa died, and Mama had to work so hard to keep Maria and me fed and clothed, that the gray started to work its way into her hair. She's not that old really, but she looks a lot older until you see her in action. She's still got lots of energy and strength, and she's as much my hero as Papa was.

  “Mama, what are you working on?” I ask, leaning down and giving Mama a kiss on the cheek. “Angel says you've been back here a while.”

  “Just trying to figure out the fire inspection requirements,” Mama says. “Whoever wrote these was definitely a lawyer.”

  “You mean they're complicated,” I tease, reaching forward and hitting the power button on the monitor. “Come on Mama, I told you, I can hire a lawyer now that will help us with all of this.”

  “I don't trust lawyers, you know that baby,” Mama says as she gets up. “Not since they screwed us on the taxes.”

  “Mama, I know. But if we must work with snakes, it might as well help us to have a snake of our own, and I can pay for it with my next quarterly check,” I reply. “I know, I know, you want to argue me on it. Let's just go play with Angel instead, okay?”

  “Si, mi pequeno,” Mama says, giving me a hug. “So, tell me about your studio session today. I've got a babysitting job tonight, and I want to hear all about it.”

  “Well..” I start, but before I can go on, the front door opens, and I hear Angel go tearing towards it, hollering for his mother. I give Mama a glance, and we both smile. “After I help Maria unload the groceries.”

  It's with pride that I see that Maria followed my advice and went shopping at the good supermarket I found near the house, with real cuts of meat from the butcher's section and fresh produce. Yeah, it means that I must carry four more bags of things, but I'm so happy to do it. These fresh broccoli heads and bell peppers? Yeah, we busted our butts, and my nephew's going to eat them, not crappy canned goods or welfare cheese like Maria and I did. Setting the last bag on the kitchen counter, I take out the gallon of milk, nodding in approval. “Whole milk. Nice.”

  “I just know that you like working with good ingredients, Joey. And you did promise to cook dinner tonight,” Maria says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You're the best, bro.”

  Maria leaves the kitchen and goes in to play with Angel. I watch them for a moment before Mama interrupts my thoughts. “They're doing just fine, Joey. I know you've been worried about the move, the new neighborhood, you going back on tour next year, all of that.”

  I nod, letting Mama see my tension. “I know Mama. I guess I was just worried that Angel would have a problem, leaving his friends behind. But I guess if he's got Maria, he's good. And she's...”

  I go silent, not trusting my voice. Instead, I turn to the kitchen countertop and take out the packet of chicken thighs, taking a look. Okay, I can do something with these. Mama watches me for a minute, then pats me on the shoulder, letting me be. I start seasoning the chicken before putting it in the casserole dish that I'm going to bake it in, adding a nice chunk of butter that will melt slowly while the oven warms up. As I move onto the vegetables, I think about Maria. She was just getting into being fourteen, the one night I messed up as a big brother.

  I was in high school, and Mama had to work a long shift that night. We decided to get together at Ian's place in Huntington Beach to practice for a paying gig coming up. We had just rebranded less than a year ago as the Fragments and were jumping at any chance to get paid and make our name. What I hadn't known was that Maria didn't want to hang around the house. She asked to go with me, but I said no. I knew I'd be out late, and I didn't want her to struggle in school the next day. She was the one with the brains after all.

  The memories of what happened when I got home still haunt me. Mama was still out and Maria was upset, sniffling and crying. She flinched when I sat next to her on the couch, and she wouldn't look at me. When I asked her what was wrong, she started sobbing, saying she was so sorry. Maria, my lovely little sister, sorry. Sorry for going to the corner store, sorry for not running away when she heard the two men... sorry for getting raped. She never told me who, I don't think she even knows, but when she turned up pregnant from it, it hurt her so badly. Mama though, Mama was our rock, and she just hugged us both and told Maria that it didn't matter, she loved us.

  I've been in and out of the church a long time. But Maria is a strong Catholic, and abortion never even entered her mind. So, at three weeks after turning fifteen years old, Maria gave birth to Angel. Maria's been a great mother, and Angel is a true blessing. I’ve even started going to Mass with my family occasionally, and I started going back to confession if only to help get some guidance from Father Riordan, one of the priests at the church Mama likes to go to.

  I get the chicken in the oven and start slicing up bell peppers and olives to mix in with the saffron rice that we're going to have on the side while Mama starts the water on the stove. “So, are you going to tell us?”

  I shake away the bad memories, trying to focus on the good news that I want to share with my family. “With dinner, Mama. I know Maria's going to want to hear this, and I might be busy after dinner.”

  I finish my vegetables, cooking them a little in butter before adding them to the rice. Mama watches, then smiles. “You know, when you were kids, I didn't know if keeping the cable for the apartment was a good idea or not. Considering the number of cooking shows you watched and what you've done with them... I'd say it was worth the money.”

  Mama leaves the kitchen while I finish up dinner, sprinkling just a pinch of dried chipotle powder for Mama and me. Maria's got a sensitive stomach, and Angel's too young yet. It's with pride that I bring the dishes out to the dining room table in the first real dining room we've had. “Time to eat, guys!”

  Angel takes a big helping, but I'm not worried, Maria's told me that he always eats a little bit extra when I cook dinner. After Mama says the blessing, we dig in, and I get the biggest compliment that really any cook can get, four whole minutes where the only sound in the room is the spoons and forks scraping on plates. Finally, Mama sets her fork down and gives me a look, one that I know means it's time to talk. Maria catches it too and looks over at me. “Joey?”

  “Well, you remember last week I had that interview for the newspaper?” I ask, and Maria nods.

  “I'm looking forward to it. When's it coming out?” she asks. “I keep checking the website, but nothing yet.”

  I shrug and take a drink of milk to encourage Angel before his mouth is too full to fit any more food in it. He's like his mother that way, Maria's horrible at talking with a mouthful of her food and has been since she was a little girl. “I don't know. But... well, the reporter and I kind of hit it off. She
asked me out on a date for tomorrow.”

  “Is she cute?” Maria asks, giggling when I blush. “Really?”

  “She's more than that,” I protest before Maria can ask more. She knows I've always had a thing for blond women, to the point that I can't go long without her asking if she's a guera loca, the slang Mexican Spanish for sexy blond that can also mean crazy or hot tempered. Okay, so I have a type. “Seriously, Maria. Yeah, she's blond, but she's smart, she's funny... and she really listened to me, didn't just ask about the surface rock music stuff.”

  “Then what's the problem?” Mama asks. “You look unsure of yourself.”

  I laugh and set my fork aside. “You and Cora, Mama. She asked me the same thing, I was playing like... well, I wasn't playing my best in the studio. Cora and James, they just said to relax, have some fun. Cora even said that she thinks I'm a catch.”

  “I knew I liked her for a reason,” Maria teases. “Not just because Bella and Angel get along well. She's your type too.”

  I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Nah, Maria. I mean, Cora's great, but I've never thought of her that way. She's just my second sister.”

  “Which one of us is cuter?” Maria teases, and I roll my eyes.

  “Whichever one of you is holding the knife,” I reply in my typical answer, making Angel snort in laughter. “But seriously, Andrea is just... I got a good feeling about her, and I guess I'm nervous.”

  “Well, I think Cora is correct,” Mama says, reaching over and taking my hand. “Joey, you've been the man of this house for almost thirteen years now. Never once have you complained, and you're still taking care of things even as you're making it on your own. So, go relax, have some fun, have a good date. What are you two doing?”

  “She wants to have a picnic, actually. I was going to make some things after dinner, maybe in the morning. You know, let her get a taste of real Puerto Rican food.”