Under the Stars and Stripes (Under Him)

“Ah, young love.”

“Hey babe,” Ragnar said, greeting Stephanie with a kiss, little Karin bouncing in her snugglie that was strapped to Stephanie’s chest, delighted to see her daddy again.

“I’m Stephanie,” she said, offering me with a hand, “and you must be Becca.”

“Yes,” was all I could manage to say, overwhelmed by suddenly being in a group of strangers.

“Ashe told me all about you. Pay no mind to these goofs.”

“Hey, that’s not nice,” Ragnar pretended to protest.

Taken on as one of the group, I drove with the remaining Loki’s Laugh members, along with Frey and Karin, in the tour bus to a restaurant on the fancier side of town. Parked at the side so as not to take up too many parking spots, we stepped out into the cooling night. The heat of the day was fading into memory.

There was no problem getting a table, since Stephanie was the sort of person whose name tended to be at the top of guest lists, even before she’d gotten involved with the beloved Suspicious Activity record label. Once a high-powered executive at a successful fine jewelry business, she was used to being taken seriously.

There was even a highchair set up and ready when we got to the table. It was interesting how expectations could go. My outing to the Loki’s Laugh gig both exceeded and, at the same time, defied my expectations.

They certainly weren’t the scariest band going, but babies and brisket really wasn’t what I expected from Metalheads. It wasn’t the first indication I’d had that it might be time to broaden my horizons.

“Are we fashionably late?” Ashe asked.

“Not at all,” Stig said cordially, getting up to pull her chair out for her.

“Hey, that’s my job,” Varg protested.

“You snooze, you lose, Spooky.”

“Hey, we’ve been over this, man. Only my mother can call me Spooky, got it?”

“Thp-oookee,” Karin sang, banging her little hand on the tray.

“Now see what you’ve done?”

“She was going to find out anyway,” Ragnar point out.

“True, but I wanted to break the news myself.”

After putting in our orders with the saintly patient server, they got back into it, bringing to mind an old-school comedy play.

“How are the plans for the big event?” Ashe asked.

“Non-existent, at least not yet. Been focused on the tour,” Stephanie said, speaking for the group.

“We’re going to get right on it, though. Theo is flying in tomorrow, and I want to at least have a start when he gets here,” Varg said.

“Theo?” I asked Ashe.

“Varg’s friend from Norway. Super-cool and drop-dead gorgeous. I’ll introduce you if you like.”

My first inclination was to say no. Not in the least because I tended to get tongue tied and shy around handsome men.

I was only doing okay with the Loki’s Laugh guys through some effort. They were already attached, and it wasn’t like I was attracted to any of them.

But hearing about another friend made me nervous, for some reason.

Nervous and excited.

“Sure,” I said, before my brain could catch up with my mouth.

Resisting the urge to facepalm, I went through the rest of the night in silence, wondering what exactly I’d gotten myself into.

Chapter Four - Theo

The choir of alarms went off almost at once. Last night I’d set every device I had available, from my phone to a clock radio, wanting to make sure that all of them would go off.

I’d put at least half the things intentionally on the other side of the room and set to go off within a few seconds of each other. The digital cacophony was at a standstill. I heaved out a breath, noticing, with some relief, I was no longer tired at all.

Then I set about the kitchen like it was a house on fire, in the most metaphorical sense, putting together a full English breakfast as I was once taught on a student trip to London. Once everything was rolling, Petra came in, still in her night shirt, rubbing her eyes.

“Morning, little one,” I said, tending to the sausages and bacon.

“Smells good.”

“Wait ‘til you see how it tastes,” I joshed.

“You can’t see a taste.”

“Nicely done, very quick.”

Making sure Petra was okay, I went to get a taxi, with plenty of time still to go before the flight. I’d missed a flight to England once because there had been a hold up at security, and I never wanted to go through that again. I couldn’t afford it for a start.

Fate must have decided it wasn’t a good idea for me to fly to America that day. I didn’t know the particular reason, but maybe it was just the divine deities being capricious dinks, as was wont to happen, at least according to the stories.

The cabbie spoke neither English or Dutch with much proficiency, and it took nearly twenty minutes to convince her I wanted to go to the airport. Once that was sorted out, the route we took would confuse any Amsterdam local, being the longest way possible from where we were to where we were going.