(1987)
(This isn't the best story, but it's a little something I wrote in class.)
There wasn't a day in the past four months that Kayla didn't think about the tour. It just started to seem as if things were getting back to normal. Instead of Tom and Fred fighting over the seat beside her on the bus, they argued over which national football team would make it to the Super Bowl.
At the start of the band's time off, Tom and Fred could hardly handle being in the same room. Now, after four months, they're shopping and watching sports together.
Kayla liked it better this way.
It was only a matter of weeks before the boys sunk back into their selfish differences on the road.
She tried to shake the thought from her mind as she topped a stack of whip cream-covered pancakes with rainbow sprinkles. This would be the last breakfast Tom would eat at home for eighteen months. After today he'll be ordering too-crispy bacon from The Marriott's kitchen.
She brought the plate to the table and set it in front of Tom's favored chair. Puck was beneath the table, whimpering.
"Shh, baby. This food is for Daddy."
Tom sauntered into the kitchen with a tired smile and kissed Kayla's cheek. He was fully dressed and ready to board the bus, which he knew would be coming for him within the next hour. He didn't know if he was excited to leave and get back to work or if he was dreading eighteen months on the road with Freddie boy and grumpy ol' Eric. He was too tired to think about it.
"Good morning, Tommy." Kayla said, wrapping her arms around her man, not wanting to let go. He smelled like after shave and hairspray, something she wouldn't smell for a year and a half.
"Good morning."
"I made breakfast." She motioned a hand to the plate of pancakes.
"Just for me?"
"I'm feeling a little sick. I probably shouldn't eat anything this early. Who knows what it could do to my stomach."
Tom gave her a puzzled look and she waved her hand. "Don't worry. I bet it's because you're leaving. I'll feel better. It's butterflies, I guess."
She brought the plate to the table and set it in front of Tom's favored chair. Puck was beneath the table, whimpering.
"Shh, baby. This food is for Daddy."
Tom sauntered into the kitchen with a tired smile and kissed Kayla's cheek. He was fully dressed and ready to board the bus, which he knew would be coming for him within the next hour. He didn't know if he was excited to leave and get back to work or if he was dreading eighteen months on the road with Freddie boy and grumpy ol' Eric. He was too tired to think about it.
"Good morning, Tommy." Kayla said, wrapping her arms around her man, not wanting to let go. He smelled like after shave and hairspray, something she wouldn't smell for a year and a half.
"Good morning."
"I made breakfast." She motioned a hand to the plate of pancakes.
"Just for me?"
"I'm feeling a little sick. I probably shouldn't eat anything this early. Who knows what it could do to my stomach."
Tom gave her a puzzled look and she waved her hand. "Don't worry. I bet it's because you're leaving. I'll feel better. It's butterflies, I guess."
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