Page 69 of Consummation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #3)

Forty-Five

Josh

“Babe! Get in here!” Kat shrieks. “They just introduced him!”

I throw on a pair of briefs, race out of the bathroom still wet from my shower, and leap onto the bed next to Kat, careful not to crush Gracie’s blonde head as she sleeps at Kat’s breast.

“There he is!” Kat shrieks, pointing with excitement at the TV.

I look at the television screen and, I’ll be damned, yep, there he is: Will “2Real” Riley, holding a microphone and launching into a beastly performance of his monster hip-hop hit, “Crash” on Saturday Night Live. “Oh my God!” Kat shrieks. “Look at him! He’s killing it!”

“I feel electrified just watching him,” I say. “I can’t imagine how he must feel.”

“Did you know Will was this amazing?”

“I had no idea,” I say. “He was so funny and chill when we hung out with him. Who knew?”

“I guess we were hanging out with Will , not ‘ 2Real ,’ huh?” Kat says.

“Indubitably,” I say.

We sit and watch Will’s entire performance, completely mesmerized, and when it’s over, we cheer and clap like we’re sitting in the live audience.

I grab my phone off the nightstand and quickly shoot a text to Reed.

“Just watched your boy on SNL,” I write.

“HE KILLED IT. Tell him congrats from Mr. and Mrs. Faraday and Little G.” I put my phone back on the nightstand.

“Jesus, between 2Real and Red Card Riot this past year, Reed’s absolutely slaying it. ”

“God, I sure hope his streak continues into next year when Daxy’s album comes out,” Kat says .

“Reed sure thinks it will. He told me just the other day he smells a smash hit.”

“Which song?”

“Reed predicts ‘People Like You and Me’ will be the break-out first single.”

“That’s my favorite, too,” Kat says.

Out of nowhere, Gracie busts out with an ear-piercing wail.

“Oh my goodness, little lady,” Kat says, opening a flap on her nursing nightgown and pulling out her engorged boob.

“No need to scream, for crying out loud. I’m right here.

” She sticks Gracie on her nipple and Gracie immediately latches on and starts gulping down milk in hungry swallows.

“Wowza, can this kid eat,” Kat says, looking down at Gracie’s little face.

I lay my palm on the top of Gracie’s soft head as she suckles and stroke her white-blonde peach fuzz. “She’s passionate about eating, that’s for sure,” I say softly. “Aren’t you, my little angel?”

Kat rolls her eyes. “Don’t kid yourself by calling her an angel. We both know she’s a demon spawn disguised as an angel.”

“No. She’s just passionate , like I say—she simply knows what she wants. Nothing wrong with that.” I continue gently stroking Gracie’s soft head. “Isn’t that right, Mademoiselle Terrorist? You’re just assertive, that’s all.”

Kat looks down at Gracie’s face as she nurses. “Mark my words, she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I’m telling you, babe. She’s gonna be bossing you around in no time.”

“Good. I’ve always liked ’em sassy,” I say. “Don’t worry, I know just how to handle her.”

We share a smile.

“So what do you wanna do for your birthday in a couple weeks, honey?” Kat asks. “After three months of being marooned in Babyville, are you in the mood to break out of our baby-bondage and paint the town red?”

I lean down and nuzzle my nose into Gracie’s soft hair for a long moment, breathing in her scent. “Not really,” I say softly. “I’m happy to stay home this year. Why don’t we do the romantic-dinner-thing I’d originally planned for the night you poker-chipped me with Bridgette?”

“You sure? Thirty-one’s a biggie. ”

I chuckle. “Thirty-one is meaningless.”

“Bite your tongue. You didn’t think you’d make it to thirty, remember? And now you’re gonna be thirty- one . That’s a big deal.”

I make a face like maybe she’s got a point.

“You sure you don’t wanna get freaky-deaky and do something really wild and crazy to celebrate your unexpected old age?”

I touch Gracie’s hand as she continues to eat and she curls her little fingers around my index finger. “No. I had a huge party for my thirtieth. Jay-Z played, actually.”

“Oh, well that wasn’t excessive or anything.”

“So this year I’m ready to have a quiet celebration, just my wife, my baby, and me—a romantic dinner for two-and-a-half—followed by you and me getting freaky-deaky on the carpet in the nursery again after Little G falls asleep.” I wink. “I really like the way that carpet feels on my balls.”

Without warning, Gracie pulls sharply away from Kat’s breast, milk dripping down her chin, and glares at me like she understood every word of what I just said.

We both burst out laughing at the hilariously pissed expression on Gracie’s face—and the sound of our laughter makes Gracie break into gurgling peals of adorable laughter, too.

“Take a video of her giggling, babe,” Kat says. “Oh my God. She’s hilarious!”

I grab my phone and take the video, followed by a whole bunch of photos of Kat and Gracie together. But after a moment, Gracie begins fussing so Kat tries to get her to feed off her other boob.

“Aw, come on, Gracie-cakes,” Kat says. “Don’t you want my other boob? You’re gonna leave me lopsided, baby . ”

Gracie breaks into a pterodactyl scream.

“What the heck?” Kat says. “She gets riled up so freaking fast, I swear to God.”

“Gee,” I say. “I wonder where she gets that ?”

“Definitely not from me,” Kat sniffs—and much to my surprise, she sounds completely serious. But before I can reply to her and tell her she’s a delusional loon, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from Reed.

“Oh, it’s Reed—I wanna take this.” I leap out of bed and sprint out of the bedroom, far away from Gracie’s loud shrieks, to take the call .

“Tell him congrats from me!” Kat calls to my back.

“Reed!” I shout into the phone. “Congrats, man! Your boy killed it!”

“Oh my God. Didn’t he? He hit a fucking homerun, man.”

“A grand slam in the bottom of the ninth,” I say. “We were screaming at the TV like we were right there in the audience. Was he loving it?”

“Yeah, afterwards, for sure. But beforehand, he was so nervous, he puked into a trashcan. Oh my God—you should have seen him, worse than you were right before your wedding.” He laughs.

“This is the first major performance Will’s given since the whole Carmen thing.

She’s normally the one who calms him down when he gets really amped. ”

“What ‘whole Carmen thing’?”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t tell you? Oh. Yeah. They broke up.”

“Oh, really? Aw, she seemed like a sweetheart.”

“She is—a total sweetheart. You know how it goes. He’s twenty-four. He fucked it up. It’s to be expected under normal circumstances, but he’s also adjusting to the whole fame thing, you know—women throwing themselves at him wherever he goes. Pretty tall order not to fuck up at least once.”

“Too bad.”

“Believe me, he regrets it.”

“So when are you gonna be on the West Coast, bro?” I ask. “You gotta swing by and see Little G. She’s gotten so big since you saw her.”

“Not for a while, man. I’m hopping a flight to Thailand first thing in the morning with Will. We recorded a song with this Thai hip-hop group, and—”

“A Thai hip-hop group?” I interject. “I didn’t realize there was such a thing.”

“Yeah. Thai me’s Up. They’re huge in Thailand.”

I laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they’re massive and so is American hip-hop—this song’s gonna make me a fucking mint, mark my words. So, anyway, we’re shooting the music video with the Thai boys in Phuket for a week and then we’re doing a promotional appearance the following week at a nightclub in Bangkok.”

“Ah, Bangkok,” I say, chuckling. “The scene of the original crime.”

“Ah, yes. I remember it well. If you weren’t such an old man these days, I’d have invited you to join me for a little walk down memory lane.”

“Oh, fuck. No thanks. I’m too old and too happy to do any of that shit now. Almost killed me at eighteen—God only knows what that shit would do to me at thirty-one.”

“Oh, yeah. Happy almost-birthday, old man.”

“Thanks. So what dates are you gonna be in Bangkok?”

He tells me.

“I think Jonas and Sarah are actually gonna be there during those dates,” I say.

“Really? No way.”

“Yeah. Jonas is taking the missus climbing in Mae Do for four days—poor, poor Sarah—and then I’m pretty sure he said they’re gonna hit Bangkok for a few days after that.”

“Well, if the timing works out, tell ’em to come to the promotional thing at the nightclub. I’ll put ’em on the VIP list. Will and the Thai boys are gonna perform their new song, plus they’ll all do ‘Crash’ together. The crowd’s gonna go apeshit—’Crash’ is number one in Thailand right now.”

“Where isn’t ‘Crash’ number one?”

“In countries filled with stupid people.”

I laugh. “Yeah, put Jonas and Sarah on your VIP list, for sure. Sarah loves hip-hop. She’ll freak out.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll text you the details when I have ’em. You can forward the info to your brother.”

“Awesome. Thanks. Just be warned, though, Jonas might try to break your pretty face for torturing him—as much as Sarah loves hip-hop, Jonas absolutely abhors it. Plus, Jonas hates nightclubs—so he’ll be extra grouchy for you.”

“Eh, I’ll be okay. If Jonas tries to attack me, I’ll sic Barry on him.”

“Oh, Barry will be there? Say hi to him for me. I love that guy.”

“Will do. So, hey, I gotta go—we’re at the after-party with the SNL cast—I just stepped outside for a smoke.”

“You’re already partying? Will just performed a few minutes ago.”

“Three-hour-tape-delay for the West Coast, numnuts.”

“Oh, yeah. Duh. Well, have fun, man—enjoy every minute of your success. You deserve it. You’re totally winning at The Game of Life, man. It’s awesome to watch.”

“Hey, that’s the idea, man—as you well know. Win, win, win, as much as humanly possible—and then die taking none of it with you. Speaking of winning at The Game of Life, say hi to Stubborn Kat for me and tell Little G her über-Cool Uncle Reed loves her like crazy.”

“I will. Text me the info about Bangkok when you have it.”

“Sure thing. Bye, bro. Enjoy changing shitty diapers. Peace.”