by Anne Carol
“You’ll always be sexy to me.” I kissed her lips. She still smelled like the chocolate cake; and—dear heavens—I couldn’t get enough of her.
“We’ll see how you feel when I’m eight months pregnant, big as a house.”
My girl had no clue. When she became full and round with our child inside, she’d be even more attractive to me. “I can’t wait until you start showing. It’ll be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She shook her head. “You really know how to charm a woman, don’t you?”
That night she curled up into me, her skin soft against my stubble. I loved the way her body fit perfectly in my arms. I couldn’t get enough of her touch, and I rubbed my chin on her back, making her squirm.
“Stop, you’re tickling me!”
I tugged her closer, trailing kisses along her bare shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, referring to our row from the party.
“I forgive you. But you are getting a bit scruffy.” She giggled.
“I meant about our argument. I apologize for being difficult about that article.”
“Oh.” She turned to face me, wearing a big smile. “So you’ll let me do it?”
I grimaced. “No.”
Her face fell. “What? Then why are you apologizing?”
“Because I feel like a cad for speaking to you that way in front of Patrick. It wasn’t right. And I apologize for being so uptight, but I just can’t allow it. I want to keep my family out of the spotlight. Do you understand?”
“Sort of, but I think you’re being over the top about this. I feel smothered.”
Smothered. My heart ached when she said that word. I just wanted to keep her safe. “Sorry you feel that way. It’s not my intention.” I played with a strand of her hair. “If anyone hurt you again, I don’t know what I’d do. There are so many loons out there, it frightens me. It’s one of the scariest aspects of this lifestyle.”
“What about all those models? They’re all over billboards and magazines.”
“They aren’t my concern. You are. And believe me, I’ve heard stories about men stalking them. I would never want you in that career.”
“You’re letting your fears limit me.” She yawned. “Oh well, I’m too tired to debate this anymore. It is what it is.”
Thank you, God. “I love you, Mrs. Somers.”
She rested her head on my chest. “I love you, too.”
I touched her stomach. “And I love you, baby Somers,” I whispered.
Christmas had a special air of excitement this year. I felt like a lad again, anticipating a new toy, but no toy I’d received in childhood would ever compare with the beautiful gift of a baby. Expecting a child during the holidays made me appreciate our many blessings all the more. Beth and I had a lot to be thankful for this particular season. God had seen us through so much: repairing relationships, overcoming my addiction, and healing Beth’s heart from her depression and anxiety. The band was at the top of its game and gearing up for another North American tour. And best of all, at fourteen weeks, the pregnancy was going well.
Beth experienced a bit of morning sickness, and she tired easily, but that didn’t stop her from packing up the flat the moment we received word we’d gotten the new house. The two-story brick townhouse was only a few streets from Don and Brooke’s new place, which made Beth happy. Fortunately, we didn’t have too many items to pack. Between the tours and time in California, we’d never had the chance to furnish and decorate properly.
Life was busy between moving and rehearsal and family obligations, but Beth and I still managed to enjoy our favorite holiday events. We took in the brilliant lights on Oxford Street, visited festive Covent Garden (where I was cornered a few times for autographs, even with my blond wig and horn-rimmed glasses), and attended a Christmas concert at Westminster Abbey. Best of all, we accompanied Don and Brooke when they took Emma to see Santa. She was a little doll, not at all frightened by the sight of Father Christmas. Watching the pure joy on her sweet face stirred up a sense of hope inside. I could hardly wait to take our son or daughter to see Santa.
On December 21st, we grabbed the last few boxes, turned in our key, and followed the moving van over to our new townhouse. The neighborhood was bit more upscale, and it seemed our new neighbors got into the spirit of Christmas as most homes were decorated. I noticed a few children playing in their front gardens, bundled up in their coats. I knew Beth would be happy here, and hopefully nobody had an issue with a rock star living amongst them.
That evening, as we were unpacking, the door chime sounded. When I opened the door, a young girl stood there, holding a Christmas cake.
“Hello,” I greeted her.
Her eyes popped open. “Oh my! You’re…you’re—“
I opened the door and ushered her inside. “I’m David, and you are—?”
“No way!” Her face turned crimson. “David Somers lives next door to me!”
“What’s all the excitement?” I heard Beth say behind me. “Oh, hi there.”
“Is this your wife? Hi, Mrs. Somers. I’m Brandy. I live next door,” the girl rattled off.
“Hi, Brandy. Whatcha got there? That looks delicious,” Beth gushed.
“My mum wanted me to bring you this cake, to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“That’s awfully nice of your mum,” I said, taking the cake from her hands.
Her eyes were still wide as saucers, and she had a huge grin on her face, but she backed up, suddenly shy. “Well, I’d better get back home. So nice to meet you two.”
After she left, I closed the door, chuckling as I turned around to find Beth staring at me with her hands on her hips. “What?”
“We just can’t get away from your fans, can we?”
“They just seem to find me everywhere,” I joked.
She guffawed. “Aren’t you humble?” she sassed, turning around. “Come on, you and your ego need to help me unpack.”
I quickly, but gently, grabbed her around her waist, being careful not to hurt her. Burying my face in her hair, I said, “Hey, how about we take a break from unpacking, Mrs. Somers?”
Christmas morning I woke up to my beauty in my arms. She looked peaceful with my hand resting on her belly. “Good morning, my Christmas angel.” I kissed the top of her head.
Her fingers raked down my bare chest, making me groan with delight. “Merry Christmas, my handsome man.”
“Last Christmas it’ll be just you and me.”
“Yeah, next year will be very different.”
Desperate to kiss her, I gripped her chin between my thumb and forefinger and brought her face toward mine. Just as my lips were about to touch hers, she threw her hand over her mouth and jumped out of bed. I followed her into the washroom and held back her hair as the morning sickness took over. It was torture seeing her like this, but I knew it was all part of having a baby.
Thankfully, Beth was well enough to attend morning services with my parents and join them for a feast at their house. Beth’s aunt and uncle were in the States with her family for the holidays. We’d decided, because of everything going on, that we’d stay in London this year, figuring we’d catch up with them when we toured Northern California.
New Year’s Eve saw Vinyl Fog back at our old spot, performing for the locals. It was a packed house. Beth and Brooke sat in front flanked by two bodyguards. I watched my girl like she was the only other person in the room. Even with a minder, I was fiercely protective of her. She was everything to me.
Vinyl Fog brought down the house with a cover version of U2’s “New Year’s Day,” and afterward, I took Beth in my arms and smothered her with kisses. She lovingly stroked my hair and said, “Happy New Year, Mr. Somers.”
“Happy New Year, sweet girl.”
We also had our own New Year’s celebration in the privacy of our new home just before collapsing into each other’s arms.
Hello, 1984.
The year our first child would join us.
I�
�d phoned Patrick one day while David was at practice and told him if he wanted me for an article, I’d have to come in right after the New Year. My official reason was that of the upcoming tour; no mention of my pregnancy. He ended up squeezing me in the first week of January.
“Are you sure about this, cousin?” Jenny’s voice echoed in my head as I stocked my handbag with crackers.
As sure as I’ll ever be, I thought. It had been three days since our phone conversation; the one where I’d refused to back down. Now, I wondered if I’d really thought this through.
“I’m doing this, Jenny,” I’d stated. “Come on, I’ll never have a chance like this again. Once I start popping out babies, my body will never be the same. I’m already getting a little tummy. I need to get into that studio—the sooner, the better.”
“If it’s what you really want,” she sighed. “Just remind me not to be in the same time zone as David when he finds out what you did.”
“Oh Jenny, I’m not worried. Once he sees the photos, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He can’t stay mad at me for long, you know that.”
“Well, you’re testing him on this one.”
At the time, I’d written her off as being overly cautious, but now…I was starting to panic. How furious would David be if he knew I’d called that photo-journalist from the Christmas party? That I’d be featured in a series on rock star wives? He’d been adamantly opposed to it. Yet I went ahead and pursued it, going behind his back. Oh, Beth, what have you gotten yourself into?
Regardless, it was too late to back out now. I’d given Patrick my word, and there was no way I was flaking out. I was due at the studio in just half an hour. As usual, my stomach was queasy, so I ate a handful of dry Cheerios and headed for the Tube station, fighting the snow flurries.
The adrenaline rush hit me now as my day of glamour shots was upon me. I get to be the star today, I thought, recalling the numerous times I’d felt like nothing other than “David Somers’ wife.” Today was my long-anticipated chance to shine on my own.
I found the studio with no problem, though I wasn’t thrilled with the neighborhood. I thought it would be in a posh area, but this definitely wasn’t. The shops looked seedy, and the pavement was cracked and jumbled with use. A bodyguard would have come in handy right about now. By the grace of God, I made it past a few leering men and into the building in one piece.
“Hello, Beth,” Patrick met me just inside and shook my hand. “Did you drive or take the underground?”
“I haven’t quite mastered driving here yet, so I took the underground.” As I brushed off the snowflakes, my gaze fell on the wall of photos surrounding the reception area. The display included rock bands, singers, and actors. Wow.
“Rubbish. You shouldn’t be out there alone,” he said, gesturing toward the windows. “I’ll put you in a cab when you leave, sound good?”
Pulling my gaze from the giant poster of Vinyl Fog, I met his glance and nodded. “That’d be fine.”
“I’m so glad you could come in. Wasn’t sure if you could convince David.”
“Well, he doesn’t exactly know.” I winced, feeling heat creep up my neck.
“Oh.” He gripped his forehead. “You sure you want to go ahead with this?”
“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be fine once he sees the photos.”
“Well,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Let’s hope so. Nothing like a little pressure, right?” He shrugged. “Why don’t we get started?”
Being fussed over like a movie star was a thrill. My imagination went wild as I sifted through a rack of designer dresses and settled on a stunning teal gown. How could David not understand how wonderful this experience was for me? Once he saw me wearing this gown in a photo, he’d agree, surely. The curve-hugging, floor-length dress was silk, with a deep plunge black lace bodice. Very Dynasty-like, and something I wouldn’t have the guts to wear, typically. But that’s what made this fun.
Johnny, the guy doing my makeup and hair, had me chuckling with stories about other models—identities withheld, of course. He put me at ease, which was good because I needed to loosen up before the shoot. I can’t blow this. I wanted David to love these photos, even if he didn’t want me taking them. They had to be good enough to change his mind.
The first round of photos, with me in the dress, went better than I expected. ZZ Top’s guitar-driven hit “Legs” played in the background, contrasting with the formal, elegant poses I was doing.
After the brief session, Patrick said, “You’re doing fantastic, Beth. Now it’s time for the fun shots!”
“Fun shots?” I repeated. Like this wasn’t? I couldn’t imagine what he meant.
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind if we do you up a bit differently.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I shrugged. “I’m game.” Though I wondered how “different.” “I draw the line on nude photos, however,” I half-kidded. Surely he wouldn’t expect that?
He waved his hand at me. “Are you kidding? David would skin me alive. No, just something a bit more rock ‘n’ roll. Think Joan Jett.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Ooh, I could get into that.”
“Great. Go see Johnny, and he’ll get you ready while I set up the next round.”
It wasn’t long before Johnny had worked his magic on my hair, transforming it from a soft, wavy look to a spiky, wild hairstyle. “How do you get my hair to do that? You need to teach me,” I said, staring at my reflection. He hadn’t yet started on my makeup, and I already looked like a member of a girl band. David won’t even recognize me. I had to admit I loved it.
“Well, it takes practice. This is what you need to do…” He went on to explain how to create the “rocker chick” hairdo at home. I grunted. “Yeah, okay. Not happening. I’ll stick to my curling iron.”
He laughed, squeezing my upper arms. “Come on, we need to get you dressed.”
Dang, these are snug, I thought as I snapped the top of the black leather pants hugging my legs. I had to suck in my stomach while I did the zipper. Great, is my belly going to stick out?
“Gorgeous, Beth!” Johnny said, whistling.
I looked up at his smiling face. “You’re sure this looks fine?” All I could think about was my protruding belly.
“Better than fine. You’re smashing.”
“If you say so.” I smiled nervously as I turned toward the full-length mirror. My chin dropped at my reflection. Is that even me? I almost looked back to see if someone was behind me. The leather pants were paired with a glittery silver top which showed my midriff and a touch of cleavage. A pair of black stilettos—which looked amazing, but were extremely uncomfortable—finished the outfit. I was done up with heavy dark eyeliner and mascara, pouty red lips, and half a bottle of Aqua Net in my hair. There was not a hint of my flowery, feminine self.
“What do you think?”
“It’s…not my usual style,” I said, shifting to the side to get another view.
“It’s hot,” he said. Fantastic. Just what David would want, a photo of his wife looking hot in a national magazine. I cringed. “Don’t worry. We’ll do a few shots of you looking more natural after this.”
I blew out a breath of relief. “Whatever. Let’s do this.”
Patrick first put me in a pose holding a guitar over my shoulder. It was a bit awkward, and I was having trouble relaxing in front of the camera. Johnny tried to get me to laugh, but that backfired when I nearly dropped the guitar.
“Let’s put some music on. Benny?” He nodded to his assistant.
Duran Duran’s “Girls On Film” began playing in the background, and I started dancing around. The music energized me, and I focused on following Patrick’s instructions. The poses were a blast to do. In addition to the guitar over my shoulder, I also pretended to jam on it, and then I did one with the guitar upright in front of me, my hands resting on the neck, like the instrument was supporting my weight. David will fall in love with these.
“Just one more pose with the guit
ar, and then we’ll do our last set.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
Keeping a hold of the guitar, I watched as Benny moved a low stool in front of me. He gestured to it, and I took a seat. He then took the guitar and set it between my legs. Oh.
Patrick grinned. “Now, I want you to wrap yourself around the guitar like it’s David himself.”
“What?”
“It’ll be sexy. He’ll love it.”
I’m not so sure. But I did as he asked—praying the whole time David wouldn’t fly off the handle for this.
“Oh yeah, that’s it. How about a sultry expression? Pretend you’re making love to the guitar.”
Making love to a guitar? I suddenly had a lot more respect for models. What they must deal with. Yes, I had an amazing day of feeling pretty and pampered, but modeling would not be in my future. Nope. Give me a writing job any day over this.
Thankfully those shots went quickly, as I was ready to get out of the tight pants. I was also starting to feel a little woozy. As I donned the next outfit, a pair of jeans and a floral print blouse, I had to hold onto the wall to remain steady. The flutters calmed down once Johnny put me back in the styling chair to soften up my look. He complimented me on how well I was doing and asked if I’d ever done any modeling before.
“Thanks. No, this is my first time.” I smiled, and just like that, a wave of nausea hit me. I clutched my stomach and instinctively put my palm over my mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
Keeping my hand over my mouth, I mumbled, “Where’s the loo?”
He pointed in the direction, and I dashed off, hand not moving. When I returned, feeling a bit lighter and in need of a cracker, he asked, “Are you ill?”
Smiling hesitantly, I said, “Sorry about that. I’m better now.” I picked up my purse and fished out my packet of crackers. He looked at me, dumbfounded. Slumping my shoulders, I sighed. “I’m pregnant, but please don’t tell anyone beyond this room. We haven’t officially announced it.”
He gave me a beaming smile. “Beth, congratulations. And your secret is safe with me.”