The P.A.

Chapter 67: New Additions

"Oh, come on Heath. I think it sounds like a great way to say 'thank you' to our fans, you know? And so long for now?" MJ was jumping up and down in her excitement, which made their puppy, Wook, and their kitten, Hedwig, who were watching her, look like they were nodding vigorously. Heath took a moment out of arguing with MJ to smile at them.

Wook was brown and scruffy, while Hedwig was a calico. The woman at the shelter had sworn up, down, and all around that Wook was a "small-breed mix," and, even though they'd kind of doubted the volunteer's words, they already loved the pup, so they'd brought her home. That had been back in January, right after their return from England (they knew that January was the worst month for shelters, as many Christmas gift pets were relinquished or unceremoniously dumped when new owners realized how much care they required), and in the month that they'd had the two animals, Wook had approximately doubled in size, proving that the shelter volunteer was a well-intentioned liar. Or simply ignorant. Not that it mattered. Wook was a dear, darling, dog, and they wouldn't trade her for all the "small-breed mix" dogs in the world.

"I think it sounds like a great way for you to go into early labor from doing too much and being under stress," Heath retorted, turning his attention from their funny, cute pets to his funny cute girlfriend once more. "Like all that leaping about you're doing, would you please stop? The babies are going to fall out onto this very hard travertine floor and hit their heads, and they won't be able to go to Cambridge or UCLA and carry on the family tradition of attending the finest universities in the world."

"First of all, you didn't even go to Cambridge," MJ pointed out, lifting an eyebrow. "You didn't even get in."

"Yeah, well, if I'd applied, I would've," he retorted. "Probably," he added, not sounding very confident.

"But you're missing the point," he continued, his voice growing strong again. "You're thirty-one weeks pregnant. With twins. My twins. I don't think going on tour at this juncture would be very prudent.

"MJ, and please remember I mean this in the most loving way, and I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and all that, but Jesus, you're as big as a fucking house right now, it's not easy for you to get around, you know?"

MJ merely nodded and rolled her hand in a gesture that meant for Heath to keep talking.

"And I bet Dr. Gettleman would agree with me. Have you even asked her? Or your dad?" He stared at her. "You haven't, I can tell!"

"It wouldn't be a tour, Heath, god, how you exaggerate sometimes," MJ said as she shook her head. "It would be a short, a very short, series of gigs, all in the LA area, all within the next three weeks or so. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that it's more than sitting around the house with your feet up, which is what you should be doing," Heath answered, at his wits' end. "It's what you should be doing right now, too, you know?" He took her by the hand and led her to a large squashy chair and pushed her gently into it. He moved the matching ottoman over and lifted her feet onto it.

"Okay, we can continue arguing if you want," he said, his tone magnanimous.

MJ took a deep breath, then paused as Hedwig and Wook came and swarmed onto her decidedly tiny lap and made themselves comfortable, right on the edge, around the edges of her enormous belly. They were fast asleep in an aimiable pile in under a minute.

The rest of the argument took place in a weird kind of half-whisper, because neither of them wanted to disturb the sleeping baby animals.

"We have the album coming out, of all the cute songs we wrote together, it's all acoustic, so it doesn't require a lot of set up, just us and our guitars. We could play really small venues, little clubs, you know, really iconic places, like The Troubadour. Can you imagine, Heath? You, me, our guitars, under a couple of follow spots, at The fucking Troubadour?" MJ's face was shining, and Heath smiled in spite of himself.