Do You Think You're Up For This?

“When I am with you, nothing is uncool, and it's all complete from here. When I'm with you I'm OK, my skies are blue every day. – Ultimate Fakebook

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We’re all waiting in the main room of the studio, waiting for our new producer.

It’s so like Pete not to even give us the slightest clue as to who it could be.

We’ve been waiting for at least half an hour, and the three of them keep making small talk to pass the time and hide our nervousness.

I’m the most nervous out of the four of us.

The three of them are over halfway done with their parts, I still have a lot to go, and that’s only if we decide not to change anything or re-record the finished tracks once our new producer gets here.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m in the recording booth with none other than Mark Hoppus on the other side of the window, a whole array of buttons and notches on the soundboard in front of him.

“Alright, let’s try that again,” he says, after a few takes I’m not too confident in.

Not to mention I’ve only met the guy ten minutes ago, and have been listening to his music for years.

“I don’t know what it is,” I reply, trying not to let my frustration show.

“What it is…is you’re going to get a little more comfortable every time that you sing this part, and then we’ll work on it as we go along. You’re in the trust tree. Everyone loves you and you’re supported by friends and family.”

I open my mouth to tell him how ridiculous he sounds, or maybe to ask him what the hell a trust tree is, but then he starts the track again and I don’t have time to think about it.

I just do it, and it seems like he already knows not to let me think too much.

By the time we leave the studio at night, we’re all less star-struck and more comfortable around Mark, and have a schedule worked out for recording up until the week we’re getting off for Christmas and New Year’s, along with some sense of cohesion and direction of where we want to go with this record.

I can’t help but smile all the way back to the apartment.

I park and walk inside, closing the door behind me and taking my shoes off, still grinning like mad.

I pause in the doorway of the kitchen, seeing Michael cleaning up what must be the remains of Elliott’s dinner. He looks up to smile at me before walking over.

“How was the studio? Did you meet your new producer?” he asks. “How was your day?” I respond by kissing him enthusiastically on the lips, winding my fingers into his hair and only letting go when I need air.

“That good?” he laughs, quickly pulling me back in for another kiss that I can’t help but grin into.

“Where’s Nicola?” I manage to ask, in between kisses.

“Out with friends,” he breathes back.

“Elliott?” I murmur.

“Sleeping,” he replies, his hands sliding down to grip my hips and his forehead pressing down against mine. I run my hands up his chest to play with the collar of his shirt.

“That’s convenient.”

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Michael

I place a small hat on Elliott’s head and then put his hood up before we get out of the car. She laughs as I’m about to cover him with a blanket in addition to all that. He frowns at the unwanted objects on his head.

“It’s not even lower than thirty five degrees,” she points out, taking him from the car seat.

“I’m freezing,” I grumble, pulling some gloves from my pockets before shutting the doors. She laughs again, rearranging Elliott in her arms and starting to walk towards the house.

The one thing I don’t miss about Chicago is the winters.

On the other hand, Rae’s been in a great mood since we’ve arrived.

I ring the doorbell and we wait for someone to answer.

“If it isn’t the Chizzies,” Sisky grins, opening the door wide to let us in after a minute or so of waiting in what might as well be below zero degrees in my mind.

We’re one of the last to arrive.

It’s nothing big; a small holiday party with some of our Chicago friends and my in-laws at Bill’s house.

After making our rounds of greeting everyone and their cooing over Elliott, William joins us.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, Rae. How’ve you been?” he asks.

“Sorry, Bill. Things have been so crazy lately,” she sighs.

“Pete mentioned Mark Hoppus is producing your new album?”

Elliott begins to whine and squirm as Rae sits and starts to tell William about recording and her writing.

“Here,” I tell Rae, holding out my arms for Elliott so that she can catch up with William. She smiles gratefully and I go to change his diaper.

I talk to Sisky meanwhile a slightly confused Elliott is passed around by Rae and William’s sets of parents and relatives.

I’m exhausted by the time we leave, even though it’s not that late.

Elliott falls asleep immediately without any trouble.

I crawl into bed next to Rae, yawning. She curls up against me, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers.

“I’m taking you somewhere tomorrow,” I inform her, kissing the back of her neck lightly.

“Where?” she mumbles back, stifling a yawn.

I hesitate to answer because I want her to be surprised, but then I realize she’s already fast asleep.

I sigh in contentment, closing my eyes and waiting for sleep to come as I listen to her steady breathing.

All this time, and I still feel like I don’t completely deserve her.

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Rae
“Where are we going?” I ask, after we drop off Elliott at my parent’s house.

“You’ll see,” he vaguely answers, to which I sigh impatiently. He just smiles and reaches for my hand wordlessly and the drive seems much longer than it should.

I’m confused when he parks in front of a random house and pulls me along inside.
“The realtor should be here any minute,” he says.

I’m speechless with surprise and don’t even know what to say to him as we wander the barely furnished house. It’s simple, in a good neighborhood, and the perfect size for us.

“I wanted to know if you liked it. I thought that maybe after the records done-” he hesitantly pauses, waiting for my reaction.

I interrupt him with a kiss.

“It’s perfect.” He grins.

And for once, I’m not thinking about our careers and money to support Elliott, and how if we want a house, we might not be able to spend some time in Australia next year like Michael had been hoping.

I’m not worried about recording or how long it will take to write the album, as long as it’s up to our standards.

I’m just thinking about how things are looking up these days.

And also how I can picture the three of us here soon.

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I can hear the murmuring buzz of the crowd before I even discreetly peek out from behind the curtains where I stand side-stage.

“Excited?” Suzie asks, nudging me aside so that she can get a peek.

“I’m nervous as hell, Suze,” I bluntly inform her. She laughs.

“Me too,” she admits, tugging me back towards the dressing room. She walks over to where Mike sits on the couch and flops down next to him.

It seems like the minutes fly by in the dressing room while we wait until it’s our time to go on.

“You’ll be great,” Michael assures me, squeezing my hand. Elliott on his lap chews disinterestedly on his hand.

“Five minutes,” Seb announces, coming into the room, followed by Jude. I smile weakly at the fact that they’re all grinning with contained excitement. My nerves cause my heart rate to flutter.

We haven’t played a show in over a year.

We all go back to side-stage, Michael following only after putting bulky headphones on Elliott to protect his ears. I kiss them both for luck before gathering with my bandmates.

My pulse races as we file onto stage, and the lights dim while the crowd buzzes and applauds.

And then Seb strikes a chord with Jude and Suzie joining in, signaling that it’s my turn.

I start to sing, and the nervousness goes away, replaced by a smile that will be permanently etched on my face for the night.

It’s so good to be back.