Best Man

Broad shoulders flexed as sweat droplets rolled down the skin of Tre Cool's back as he moved around on the tiled floor of the bathroom with his girlfriend writhing underneath him in the throws of passion. Knitting his eyebrows and biting his lips as her body arched beneath, the touch of stomach to stomach made a slight slapping noise with every rise and fall they made. And the only sounds that penetrated their ears were the hard pelting of water from their disregarded shower and the television murmurings wafting in from the master bedroom.

After several more minutes, the pair picked themselves up off the ground and had finally made it into the shower which was now pumping out cold water; but given the persistent heat wave the month of July was seeing, it was a very welcomed temperature.

Once they were showered and dressed for the day, Tre and Giselle made their ways downstairs where Claudia was making lunch for Frankito. The eight-year-old boy was standing beside his mother, and even though he had her dark hair and eyes, every day he was looking more and more like his father.

"Hey Frankie, whatcha doin' today?" Tre asked his only son.

The boy shrugged. "I wanted to go to Caliskatz, but mom said no because she doesn't think I'm old enough."

"Ain't that the skatepark in San Leandro?"

Frankito nodded as Giselle flashed the boy a smile and walked over to the fridge to pull out a bottle of raspberry flavored water.

"Well, I don't see the problem as long as you got an adult with you and you wear your helmet and got the proper padding.

Giselle smirked. This coming from the punk rock drummer who throws his drum sets around and lights them on fire.

"Frank, he's only eight years old. There are a lot of older, experienced kids at those parks and they'll see him as in their way..." Claudia spoke as she turned around to face her ex-husband.

"No, he won't," the drummer insisted. "He's got my passionate sense for being reckless so in the event that he gets hurt, he'll be able to shake it off and go about his day." Stepping forward, Tre ruffled his son's hair and grinned down at him. "Ain't that right, Spanky?"

"Dad..." Frankito whined. "Don't call me that."

"Can I call you...Hubert?"

"No," the younger Cool giggled.

"Maurice?"

"Dad, no!"

Watching his son laughing as he swatted the hand off of his head, Tre smiled. It was a great thing, being a father. Having created life. Twice. His beautiful daughter, Ramona, and Frankito; his son who was so much like him that sometimes it was scary.

Giselle watched everything with her usual, analytical blue eyes that were also laced with admiration for the relationship between father and son. Touching a hand to her hip, her fingers subconsciously brushed the sides of her stomach as she held her water bottle with her other hand.

Looking at Tre, solely, she wasn't surprised when he met her gaze.

"Do you mind if we're a little late to Mike and Care's so I can take Frankito to Caliskatz?"

Giselle shook her head. "By all means," she gestured to the pair with her hands. "Don't put off what you can do today because you might not have tomorrow."

Tre grinned and walked up to his girlfriend, kissing the corner of her mouth as he brushed his nose against hers. "Thanks, Yoda."

Giselle laughed slightly. "You're welcome." When they pulled back from each other, she looked him in the eye. "I have some errands I can do anyway, so it's just as well..."

"Everything works out," Tre muttered as he held his hand out to Frankito and gestured for his son to go get his shit together. Looking over at his ex-wife, he tilted his head to the right. "I promise to make sure no teenagers make roadkill out of our son and that he wears all the proper padding."

With a leisured sigh, Claudia threw her hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay."

Touching a hand to her shoulder, Tre smirked and turned to Giselle and stepped forward to kissed her again. "I'll see you later, hot stuff."

"Alright," Giselle replied, watching her boyfriend walk out of the kitchen, after his son.



Caroline's birthday party later that night was a smaller affair than past celebrations for the simple fact that with the summer heat in full swing and being very much pregnant, she just didn't want to deal with too many people around her. The last thing she wanted was anyone walking on egg shells as if one wrong move and she'd break down from pregnancy hormonal mood swings or even go into premature labor.

Just a few friends came over for the traditional devouring of birthday cake and ice cream that was turning to slush as soon as it was taken from the freezer. Then the gifts.

But Caroline was a little dumbfounded when it came time to opening the beautifully wrapped packages because she couldn't think of one thing anyone could get her that she didn't already have.

What material object could compare to having a comfortable life with her husband and unborn child?

Tre and Giselle had showed up about an hour and some change late because he'd apparently taken Frankito to some skatepark, but Caroline didn't mind, because she didn't want the party that much to begin with.

The other reason, she feared to admit to, was that she was now officially twenty-nine. One year closer to her 30s, and then it'd be downhill from there.

But who better to get older with than the beautiful, most handsome man standing beside her?

Mike never seemed to move from her side the entire evening; even reveling in having her sit on his lap and wrapping his arms as far around her stomach as he could while resting his chin on her shoulder.

And despite enjoying the fact that she could honestly say she was glad to have such friends that cared about her enough to throw her a party every year, she was also more than glad when they all left.

Because it meant she could spend more time with the one person in her life who meant more to her than anything.

"Michael," Caroline cooed as she sat in bed with her round tummy sticking out into her lap as she flipped through the photo album of their honeymoon.

"Hmm?" came his muted response from the bathroom.

"How did I luck out in having you all to myself? Did I win a lottery? Does God or Zeus or Krishna just love me so much that they thought, 'Hey, give Caroline a demigod because she deserves the best?'"

Mike's short laugh echoed around the bathroom and bounced out into the bedroom just before he stepped out with just a towel around his lean, narrow waist.

Casting her a thoughtful grin, Mike shrugged and held his arms out as if to say, 'Behold me, for I am the son of God.'

"What can I say, babe? The Powers That Be love me, and they love you," he muttered. "We are a match made in the cosmos."

Caroline bit her lip and grinned back at him as she closed the photo album. "You're a boob."

"A very wet boob," he added, whipping his towel off without a moment's notice. "I haven't exactly dried off yet."

Caroline let out a squeal as Mike threw the towel at her and then climbed up onto the bed; allowing their laughter to seep into every pore of their home to live there forever, for future moments.



The time had finally come.

Rob had finally kicked his 'time of the month' mood and was as jovial as ever what with The Sinners' sophomore album finally being done and over with.

August entered the summer months, and it was turning out to be even hotter than July was. Droughts and wild fire were spreading all over certain areas of the Southwest and parts of northern California.

But no one was paying attention to the earth's problems because the task at hand was preparing The Sinners' second feat for circulation.

The drop date for the record was to be September 15th; just a couple weeks before Caroline was scheduled to have her first child, so promotion for the album would be limited in the last month.

Doctor's orders.

No extensive travel in the last trimester.

He informed her that she was not Katie Holmes, carrying Tom Cruise's crazy spawn, and flying to Sydney weeks before labor.

She would be permitted to limited travel; to locations such as LA or Vegas. Close places. But not New York or anything further. If the band was going to promote elsewhere where she couldn't be, they'd have to go without her or all appear together via satellite.

But figuring out the promotional ticks weren't the only problems that seemed to rear its ugly head.

Giselle was putting a wedge between Tre, for some reason, out of the blue. And he couldn't understand why. Nor did she explain herself.

Even Caroline noticed the problem and approached her sister, but the younger woman declined to say anything about whatever was going on with her. And as the month rolled along, the further Giselle became to Tre until a pivotal argument during the last week of the month wherein Giselle took a one-eighty from her usual calm and collected demeanor, cursed Tre out and slammed doors in his face.

And for a moment, Tre thought he was sharing a home with Caroline again.

But he wasn't. This was Giselle, and she wasn't acting like herself. Something was terribly wrong and she didn't seem to be able to tell him or anyone that cared about her about what it was.

And once Giselle had settled down, she walked over to Tre, touched his shoulder gently...

...and broke up with him.

The next day she'd packed all her belongings and moved back in with Caroline and Mike until she found an apartment in the city, closer to where she worked.

And the entire time, Tre felt as if a tornado had sucked him up into it's turbulent core and spit him out, leaving him to rest amongst the debris and wreckage the storm caused.

And what was worse was that the drummer knew the problem was far from over.