Hey Girl (Turn it Up #9)

Epilogue

LEO

“ I s she sleeping?” Sadie asks from the couch as I grab my beer from the fridge.

“Like an angel.” I bite the cap off and sit next to my wife. “Press play.”

She gives me a mock stern look. “Is she in bed with her eyes closed just pretending to lull us into a false sense of security, or is she actually sleeping?”

My mouth quirks. Rhiannon has pulled that stunt more than once, but I’m pretty damn sure I’m right this time. “Fast asleep and dreaming of Elmo, I’m sure of it. Now press play. I’ve been looking forward to this one since Chris put a bun in Rebecca’s oven.”

Drumbeats and Heartbeats, Chris and Rebecca’s new reality show, drops a new episode on Prime every Wednesday night, and this particular one is gonna be a doozy. I’m gonna mine it for Chris baiting material like my life depends on it.

Rebecca is my new hero, not only for taming the cracked out leprechaun that is Chris Richards, but also because she beat her social anxiety enough to do a reality show. She still stammers if she’s stressed out, and still finds going on tour with him hard because she’s overwhelmed by large crowds. But when she’s talking to a producer and a couple of film crew members, even when they’re holding a camera, she seems to have found her new comfort zone.

Chris, on the other hand…

Sure, he’s unfazed by the cameras. And says whatever shit occurs to him in the moment, unfiltered. But, while he may have fooled the world that he’s a happy-go-lucky crazy sack of hyperpants that goes with the flow, I know his wife going into labour will take him down a peg or two. Or twenty. And I can’t wait to be proven right.

Bear Moon Richards - yes, they named their baby after bare naked ass - was born a month ago, but this is where we, the audience, watch him make his entrance into the world. Not literally. No ring side seats, if you know what I mean. But Chris coping with Rebecca crowning is going to begold.

“So, given that Bear is the son of Drop Dead Fred on speed and Miss Mostly-Has-Her-Shit-Together, how many times do you reckon they’re gonna get called to the headteacher’s office?” Sadie smirks, taking a sip of my beer.

“Principal’s office,” I correct her.

“Not if I have my way. I’m working on Rebecca, trying to convince her to move to the UK.”

I massage my temples, grinning sarcastically. “Nice job, Pumpkin. Chris Richards as a neighbor?”

“Never said they’d live next door, butthead.” She pulls my beer out of reach, and I roll my eyes fondly. She’s always doing that. “Anyway, shut up, it’s on.”

She presses play, and the scene opens with Rebecca sitting on a couch, rubbing both hands down her enormous belly and breathing slowly, looking as serene as a morning meadow. I smile wistfully to myself as I remember Sadie in the same shoes.

“So, is today the big day, do you think?” The female producer’s voice can be heard off camera, and Rebecca nods with a remarkably calm smile.Go girl.

“Yes, I think so. I started having contractions this morning around - ”

She’s cut off by her blur of a husband running past her in the background, shirtless like he’s Iggy Pop, holding a baby seat over his shoulder. “The car is running and I’ve got the car seat!” He bellows this in less than a second, and I’m already laughing.

Rebecca closes her eyes and lets out a long breath that, I suspect, has nothing to do with labour pains. “As I was saying, the contractions started around four this morning, and - ”

Chris interrupts her again. “Shit, I forgot the diaper bag!” Chris flails his arms, and Sadie snorts with mirth next to me. “Breathe, Mouse, breathe!”

“Aren’t you glad I wasn’t like that when Rhi was born?” I ask Sadie smugly.

“Buddy, you weren’t far off,” she replies blithely.

I shrug. That’s fair, I had my moments.

“Chris, I’m barely even in labor!” Rebecca calls after him. “We have hours yet.”

Papa-to-be returns with a way overstuffed diaper bag slung over one shoulder and a giant birthing ball tucked under his other arm. “No way, baby. If this kid’s anything like me, he’s gonna come barreling out fast and furious like Vin Diesel when we least expect it. Like, one moment my mother was all, la la la, and the next minute she was forcing my head out and - ”

“Please be kidding,” Rebecca says weakly.

“Ugh,” Sadie mutters, “way to keep her calm, idiot.”

“Amateur,” I add.

Rebecca takes another steadying breath on screen. “Chris, I’m telling you, I’m hours away. Just…just go and have some of your mom’s tea, and calm down.”

“Can’t!” Chris takes off again, and there are some odd squeaking noises bleating out with every charging step he takes off camera.

Rebecca’s face is a picture of annoyance. “Chris Richards, did you buy those,” there’s a bleeping noise as our girl swears, “dog toys for the baby after Itoldyou not to?!”

There’s a long pause.

“...No…” comes the faint, sheepish response.

“Seems you two have switched places today,” the producer chuckles, and Rebecca responds with a tired grin.

“He’s just panicking,” she defends her loving and well-meaning doofus of a husband. “The baby won’t even know about toys when he first gets here. And I’ll give the squeakers to Jack and Mayzie’s dogs.”

“Hey, Mouse?” Chris can be heard as a barrage of toys goes flying, one stuffed animal at a time behind Rebecca. “Have you seen that KidsPlay drum kit? The one with the drum beat sound effects and all the lights? I can’t find it.”

“Nope, haven’t seen it,” Rebecca deadpans directly at the camera.

“But we need it! Then we can literally say he came out of your womb playing drums! I mean, the earlier the better - ”

“Kumquat!” Rebecca yells the code word that’s meant to make Chris shut up, calm down, and take a breath.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you!” he calls back.

“I said you’re adumb twat!”

“Why do Americans pronounce it that way - ‘twot’?” Sadie asks me. “It’s twat to rhyme withhat, how does it even - ”

“Did you say kumquat?” Chris calls, and Rebecca goes boom.

“Chris Tal Windsong Mother[bleep noise] Richards, I swear to god I will [bleep noise] put Sequoia’s name on the birth certificate if you don’t shut the [bleep noise] up and get me to the [bleep noise] hospital!” Her face is contorted with a perfect storm of irritation and pain, and the camera moves abruptly as she hauls herself up. Chris is next to her like a shot, and the next scene is of Rebecca in a hospital bed doing her Lamaze puffs, which Chris is imitating. Clearly he was bang on the money, and Bear wasn't in the mood to wait.

That finishes me off. Tears of laughter pour down my face as Chris starts to get woozy from hyperventilating. “Oh, mate, this is - ”

There’s a knock at the door. I sigh, pressing pause and heading to the front door for probably yet another parcel of yarn for Sadie. She’s gotten into needlecrafts since Rhiannon was tiny, and I swear she needs a whole room for all the many, many skeins. It’s fine, we can absolutely do that, butmanit’d be a kitten’s paradise.

It’s funny I should think that, because it’s not yarn.

For a second I think someone’s abandoned a very tiny baby in a basket on my doorstep. All I see is pink skin wrapped in a red and green Christmas themed fleece blanket.

But when I pick it up…

A tiny little gremlin looks up at me with china blue eyes.

A tiny little raw chicken. A poussin.

And around its neck, looped on a red ribbon, is a label.

Say hello to King Chris, son of Iggy, it reads.Should hopefully arrive around the time you’re laughing at episode 6 of D&H. Merry Chris-mas, jackass.

“Motherfucker,” I breathe.