The P.A.

Chapter 53: Have a Bit of Nightmare

"Come on, darling," Heath coaxed. "Don't you want your wonderful record to get out there, in the hands of all your wonderful fans? The fans who've been clamoring for your work?"

"I want to fuck," MJ said in a voice that was perilously close to tears. "I want to sleep. And not necessarily in that order, either." She pouted in Heath's direction. "You're really cute, but the bed's looking at least as cute as you are lately."

They were in Detroit or Chicago, and the truth was that MJ couldn't remember which. And, more to the point, she no longer really cared. Her days and nights had blurred into one never ending cycle of traveling, performing, recording, and, if she was lucky, sleeping.

Heath was a seasoned veteran of such living, and was faring a little better, but MJ was exhausted, and fraying at the edges. She was used to all-night study sessions, and cramming for finals, but nothing had prepared her for this.

Heath sat on the arm of the chair where MJ had landed, and put a comforting arm around her. "We're nearly there, you know," he told her. "Just a few more days, two weeks at most, and we'll be finished."

"When are Poppy and Archie coming?" MJ asked, ignoring his words completely.

"Well, the truth is that I had to put them off, love." Heath waited for his words to sink in.

"What? Why?" MJ's last word ended in a wail. "It was the only fun thing, the one thing I was looking forward to. We were supposed to have this entire weekend with them, Heath!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Heath said in as soothing a voice as he could, smoothing her curly hair gently. "But you know we'e a bit behind on the recording, and there just wasn't going to be time to get away for an entire weekend, that's all." He shrugged his shoulders. "We have to get these tracks laid down in the next two days, MJ. I'm sorry I waited until the last second to tell you, but I knew it would make you sad, and I kept putting it off. It was terrible of me, I know."

MJ put her face in her hand and dissolved into tears. "I can't do this anymore," she wept. "I just can't, I'm sorry. I'm tired, and I've had a headache for like, two weeks, and I think I've been an absolute cunt to everyone around me, and the thing is, I'm not a cunty person, you know?" She turned streaming eyes to Heath, who tried manfully not to laugh at her use of that word, twice, in the same sentence, a word he was pretty sure he'd never heard her use before, ever. "You know that, right, Heath? You know I'm not a cunty person?"

He nodded vigorously, keeping his lips pressed tightly together. "Oh god, of course I do, darling! I've never, ever, thought you were cunty." Dear lord, had he really just said that to his girlfriend, his darling MJ?

"Oh, god, look at your poor little nose, MJ, it's nearly scarlet," Heath said, finally giving in to his laugh. He grabbed a tissue, did a little damage control, then ran to the bathroom, returning quickly with a cool, wet washcloth with which to wipe her miserable face.

"Thank you," MJ said with a sigh, eyes closed, as she leaned into him.

Heath sighed. "Wait a sec, yeah?"

MJ just nodded.

Heath went into the lounge, where the techs were getting set up for the afternoon's recording session. "I'm sorry, you guys, but today's not going to happen," Heath said, the regret in his voice sincere. "MJ's not feeling well, just squiffed her lunch, I'm afraid."

The techs made faces. "Oh no, yeah, best keep her quiet for the afternoon, then."

"Isn't today someone's birthday, though?" one of the others asked. "There's a do upstairs, isn't there? On the roof? Because there's no show?"