Page 14 of In This Together

‘Has your mommy told you how we all met?’

She paused to lift him onto her lap and slipped the rubber teat of his bottled babyccino into his mouth. The warmth she felt holding him was more than just his body leaning into hers. It was mutual contentedness. Rosalie was not simply sipping coffee and eating macarons today; she was babysitting. Suddenly, her standard shopping break had purpose. She made sure TJ was happily guzzling, then set about her story.

‘I suppose we’re unlikely friends, really. See, Andrea and your other god-mommy Sofia took over their daddy’s recording studio. Of course, Andrea made some great signings and with her production and management, those signings hit the charts. You won’t have heard of the bandLeverageand their frontman, Tommy Dawson. Well, they’re huge now and it was Aunty Andrea who found them. Successes like that are the reason Aunty Andrea is at XM Music Group now. Anyway, because I seem incapable of finding the right man for me, I was dating a guy that Andrea was producing… what… maybe five years ago now. Gosh, time flies.’

She looked down to TJ, who was still happily attached to his bottle, propped up by her arm, milky saliva running from the corners of his mouth.

‘Dang, I should have put you in a bib, huh? Sorry, I’m learning. Have you had enough? Do you, like, need to burp or something?’

She settled his near-empty bottle on the table in front of her and sipped her own drink.

‘So, Keith… that’s the name of the guy I was seeing… Hardly a rock star name, if you ask me. I don’t know why Andrea didn’t encourage him to use a stage name. Well, there I was, dating the anti-rock star, and I used to go to the studio when he and his band were recording their first full-length album, which is how I first met your mommy, Aunty Andrea and Aunty Sofia. I saw them nearly every day for three – no, four weeks. I liked them, you know. They weren’t like my usual group of gossipy, bitchy friends. Daddy thought they’d be good for me too – diversifying, I think he called it. And I think your mommy and Andrea liked me being around, too. I always brought treats to the studio. It was nice to be able to help out, I suppose.’

She laughed as a memory came to her. ‘One day, your mommy said to me, “Do you know why I love you, Ros?” She said exactly these words: “Because your mom is a supermodel, your dad is a music industry giant, you are beautiful and you’re dating a budding rock star. You have every reason in the world to be fake, but you’re real.”

‘She meant it as a compliment. Oh, and my mommawasa supermodel, that’s how she met my dad, at an awards bash. But she’s had so many injections now her face doesn’t move any more. Let me tell you, Teej, there’s a fine line between growing old gracefully with a little tinkering and turning your face into a distorted Barbie doll.

‘Oh, but I do love her, and Daddy adores her.’

Rosalie finished her latte and beckoned over a waitress with the universal sign for ‘Check, please’.

‘Right, little man, we need to leave, we have people counting on us today. Should we go buy Aunty Andrea something fabulous to wear to the concert? We might find something cute for a handsome baby, too,’ she said, winking at TJ.

He giggled and hiccupped simultaneously, making Rosalie laugh. Hanging with TJ was really a heck of a lot more fun than taking coffee alone.

* * *

Hours later, Rosalie dropped TJ and Hannah back home in New Jersey.

‘Are you sure you won’t come in?’ Hannah asked, holding TJ on her hip as Rod carried his car seat from Rosalie’s car into their now clean home.

‘I’m good – thanks, though,’ Rosalie said. ‘Oh, don’t forget Andrea’s dress. She’s going to look fierce in that, I promise.’

‘Thanks, Ros, for everything. You’ve been a lifesaver these last two days.’

Rosalie shrugged. ‘My pleasure.’ And it really was. Her days had seemed to fly by looking after the baby. ‘Goodbye, Teej. Have fun at nursery tomorrow, buddy.’

As she drove away, Rosalie watched Hannah and TJ in her rearview mirror. Hannah kissed his brow then held him high in the air. Rosalie knew he’d be laughing that hearty man-baby laugh of his.

That strange feeling came over her again but this time, she knew what it was.Jealousy.Unconditional love and that whole life in her hands, depending on her every day. Rosalie was totally, completely jealous of Hannah. She wanted what Hannah had – only with more money in her savings account and a better zip code. She wanted to be needed like a baby needed its mommy. She wanted a family, love, like her parents had.

But finding a good man like her daddy was proving impossible.Thatshe was going to fix with a recording label of her own, where people would look up to her, admire her and take her seriously. It was about time she started implementing her plan.

* * *

It had been a while since her last visit, but Rosalie left New Jersey and found her way through the streets of Williamsburg to Sanfia Records with ease. She killed the engine of her Porsche, slung this season’s signature Gucci purse over her wrist, and twisted elegantly out of the car.

She tended not to double-brand but today she had teamed her Gucci purse with a Gucci red belted crepe dress that came to the top of her knee – sophisticated business length – and a painfully stylish pair of Valentino rockstud sandals.

As the car beeped to lock behind her, Rosalie pinned her shoulders back and strode up to the door of Sanfia Records, where she used a tissue over her fingertip to press the door buzzer.

‘Come in,’ Sofia’s voice called over the intercom. ‘We’re in the sound booth.’

Rosalie remembered her way along the bland corridor that looked magnolia, as opposed to white, more due to years without a refresh than by design.

She wasn’t surprised as she approached the sound booth to hear country music – a male voice singing soft rock. Sanfia Records took on a range of artists, but there had always been a preference for country music, which Rosalie suspected came from Andrea and Sofia’s father and the fact their mother, God rest her soul, had been a country musician of the Eva Cassidy ilk.

Whilst Rosalie preferred to put her feet up on a pouffe with a glass of something chilled and effervescent with smooth jazz playing on her home speakers, she would happily listen to the dulcet tones of Brett Eldredge or the soothing lyrics of Carolyn Dawn Johnson.

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