010: Aubrey

Rafe on set at NBC studios was a whole new thing for me. The studio room with the band was not--- it was similar, a sound stage. I met the show's backup band, a really neat group of men and women, all professional musicians. The contestants had been working for weeks, even months to perfect the songs they were going to perform on national television. This was a reality TV show, but what went into making reality was beyond reality.

I would guess the crew that made this happen, the producers, the lighting and sound engineers, the logistics personnel--- were so many people, telling you what to do and where to go. Just to be in the room with the contestants required makeup, sound checks, photo shoots, takes and retakes. They initially met and visited, Rafe actually did seem in charge of that--- asking questions about what kind of artist the contestant felt himself to be. He asked about experience, and age and likes and dislikes, but ultimately, when it came right down to it--- Rafe and his celebrity helper sat for about a half an hour, with a pretty rehearsed script, one I think they themselves had made up--- from the questions asked, etc. But anyway, then the big walk in the room excitement scene--- as if they didn't already know who was going to be there, as if the contestants were good friends already with the coach--- who they typically saw very little of. Fifty people sat in the wings watching this tableau. Rafe was---- himself--- but not himself. He was playing a part--- the part of a coach.

After filming with the contestant Rafe actually did visit with them, give them pointers, talk and joke around and laugh. He seemed more like his normal self. He kept his phone on him and set up times to meet with them personally--- this was not required by NBC. But he had told me he liked to do it--- just to give the singers an extra shot, give them a peek at what they were shooting for.

Right now, Rafe, Ben and Jeff had set up a production company but they leased or rented studio time from another studio. This was changing as we spoke. They were looking for a venue to have their own studio. Getting started was going to be expensive and initially a loss. But they hoped to get it rolling fairly soon. Rafe volunteered to help the contestant once the show was over, depending on the outcome, of course.

That short visit accomplished and a time set up that worked for both of them, Rafe was taken away to a little bitty sound room, a photo shoot with the other coaches ensued. I recognized Kareem Williams from our meeting at Rosewood months ago. He was as sweet and gentle as before, his hazelnut skin, and warmhearted smile reminded me of that time, and how giddy I felt then, getting to know Rafe, and recording with my mom and Parker. That had been a whirlwind of a time, and seeing him brought back fond memories.

My phone buzzed and I saw Lance's name on the screen. I answered with a cheerful grin. Already Lance was one of my favorite people in the whole wide world.

"So, Darnel is picking up hot dogs for the kids, he wants to know if you want to barbecue steaks?"

"That sounds fun, let's do it. I have a barbecue--- I think Rafe has one." I tried to remember if he did out on the patio or not. I couldn't picture it. I looked over to where he was visiting with some producers or crew or somebody. He was too busy to answer that kind of domestic question. I should have just known. But in the two weeks we'd been home, we hadn't barbecued or had guests over.

"How many should we get?"

"My nieces are coming, Hannah and Abby, and you guys. I'll probably call Ben. Get eight or ten."

"And no booze?"

"Do you drink?" I was startled. I hadn't thought about providing booze for those who drank. I recalled that he and Jenny had sported beer at the hot tubbing introduction party.

"We won't in deference to your preferences," Lance said and I could hear the grin in his voice. "Darnel may be a little stilted, but he'll get over it."

"I don't want him to be uncomfortable." I worried and glanced back at Rafe who was looking at me intently, probably wondering who I was talking to. The thought crossed my mind that he must have been cheated on numerous times to be so jealous.

"He won't be. He'll just be more inhibited. It won't be an issue. He's still getting used to the idea that Rafe married an LDS girl after all I went through--- we went through."

"I know. Well, we will have to reassure him. He's family." Even as I said it, I felt this weird twisting in my gut that wasn't from morning sickness. So far, because Lance was so kind and accepting and because he was Rafe's brother--- beloved little brother--- I might add--- I had ignored my feelings about his sexual preferences. But I still felt that twinge of---- whatever it was--- I hoped it wasn't homophobia or even prejudice. But I didn't rule those out.

Rafe was signaling to me, so I clicked off with Lance and made my way carefully to his side. His arm rose naturally to encompass me, and I felt the warmth of his body and the tenderness of his touch.

"Aubrey--- we were just discussing--- oh, by the way, this is one of my team contestants, Ken Jeffers--- he's singing or wants to sing kind of classic pop slash rock. And we were wondering who wrote Puff the Magic Dragon?"

My immediate concern was that this Alabama rocker looking long haired, hillbilly hat wearing leather jacket biker guy carrying his acoustic guitar was actually going to use Puff the Magic Dragon on stage for one of his songs. My next concern was that Rafe might let him. I glanced back and forth between the two of them as a cameraman whizzed by our faces with his gliding wheeled stage camera--- green light blinking.

"Peter, Paul and Mary sang it, and kind of made it famous--- at least the version you are familiar with, but it was written by Pete Seeger." I said quickly, embarrassed that I really was the walking talking musical encyclopedia.

Ken blinked as if he was computing this information.

Rafe hooked his thumb in my jeans belt loop and used it to stroke my skin, where he had pulled up my g's. I gave him a look, meant to stop his exploration, but he pretended not to see me. "I hate that song." He said.

"Om... nobody hates that song." I was shocked .

"I do. It's the most boring song next to The Cat's Cradle by Harry Chapin. So boring it makes me want to change the station when it comes on the radio."

Ken ignored him and looked at me. "Isn't Pete Seeger in Peter, Paul and Mary?"

"No. Pete Seeger is---- Pete Seeger. And the Peter in Peter, Paul and Mary is Peter Yarrow." I said this so easily Rafe thumbed my hip like a guitar and laughed. I heard the pride in his voice. He'd known once more that I knew this information before he'd called me over.

"She knows classic pop rock music." He said, still thumbing my hip. It was starting to bug me.

"You can't hate Puff the Magic Dragon." I said.

He blinked long and slow. "Uh, I can hate whatever I want. And any stupid song as thinly veiled about smoking weed as that one-- is deserves to be hated."

"It's not about smoking weed. It was written for his kids." I protested.

Rafe gut laughed out loud. "You're kidding, right? You don't believe that! Next, you're going to tell me that Lucy in The Sky with Diamonds isn't about LSD."

"Rafe Stryker! Puff the Magic Dragon--- good grief, let me think.... I'm wrong about it being by Pete Seeger--- I think he did a rendition of it." I tapped my foot, pulling away from his questing thumb in annoyance. My hands on my own hips now, I closed my eyes and drew in my breath sharply. "It was written based on a poem Really-O, Truly-O Dragon in the late 50's by --- somebody--- a Cornell student who gave the poem to Pete Yarrow, a friend. Then they recorded it. You're talking late 50's early 60's folk music. That's like If I had a Hammer--- and Leaving on a Jet Plane."

"And Lucy in the Sky?" Rafe exploded with laughter, as everyone who is anyone knows that Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds stands for LSD.... What-ever. I happen to be very close to the source of that stupid rumor. And I was ready to defend it.

Since everyone knew that Lucy was written by the Beatles I just started in without a back story. "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds was actually the name of a painting done by John's son, Julian when he was in grade school, and it was of a classmate of his called Lucy, and he painted her in the sky with exploding stars all around her, and called it Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

Rafe was laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall over. I kicked him lightly to get him to stop, but he just laughed all the more, wheezing about LSD and innocent girls and John Lennon who had over one hundred self-professed LSD trips in his short lifetime. Ken was laughing too, along with half a dozen other people, including the cameraman.

"Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I know for a fact that Lucy----." He was out of breath completely.

I shrugged. "I've seen the painting. I've heard the story first hand from the kid who did the painting, who remembers his dad asking him the name of the painting, and from his dad's best friend and co-writer of the song."

The cameraman came out from behind his camera. "And just who do you think co-wrote the song? You would have to have heard it from Paul McCartney himself." His hands were on his hips as if he knew everything, and now, with that outburst, Rafe was rolling on the floor kicking his legs up.

"Stop it." I barked at him. "You're an idiot."

"I'm an idiot! I'm an idiot!" He laughed and laughed, hugging his sides. Others were laughing too--- at him? At my assumption?

"Get up." I commanded. "You're being stupid."

"Stupid!!!" He cackled, crawling to a chair to stand up.

"I did hear it from Paul McCartney." I told them, and tried not to act too superior.

"Paul McCartney." The camera man repeated as if I was making that up. "The Paul McCartney."

I blinked long and slow. "Yeah. And I saw the painting as it hung in Julian Lennon's downstairs den."

Now people were starting to listen to me, as Rafe sneezed, wiping his eyes on his shirt, the joke on everybody....

Now the cameraman was staring. "Rafe, who is this chick?" He turned to Rafe who was doubled over trying to catch his breath.

"I'm Aubrey Mann." I said. "Aubrey Mann Stryker."

"Wh---?" There was a sort of funny collective gasp, from contestants and producers and vocal instructors and cameramen alike.

"She's my wife." Rafe admitted, as Kareem came over to see what all the laughing was about, and the other two coaches, Avi Rudell and Janice Opp appeared also.

"Your wife?" Avi took the two strides needed with his really tall legs, and really tall body. He encompassed me in really long arms, and hugged me tight. "You did it? You really married this guy?"

"And she's Ray McCaffrey's granddaughter." Rafe laughed again, wiping his eyes with the back of his shirt. "Good friends with Paul McCartney. I haven't laughed this hard since Janet Jackson's boob fell out of her bra at the Super Bowl."

Everybody roared with laughter again.

"Yeah, I married the looby." I said in disgust. "Nice to meet you all. Hope you believe me now. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds was named for Julian's art project. It may be about an LSD trip, but it wasn't named for one."

Rafe busted up laughing again and wrapped me in his arms--- face front, staggering with his gleeful mirth, but I could see that this maneuver was to get me out of the reach of Avi , his old-fashioned jealousy was kicking in.

"Baby, there is no one on the planet as cute as you. No one!" He whispered in my ear as he hugged my neck, and kissed my forehead.

"And there's no one as goofy dumb as you are pretending to be." I smacked the back of his head.

"Who were you talking on the phone with earlier?"

"Saw that, did ya? Jealous?"

He ushered me out of the room, and into a hallway where other people were standing, or coming and going. Music could be heard just about everywhere. "Who was it?"

"What if I said it was work?"

"Then I believe you. Was it work?"

"No."

He rolled his eyes, but they were intense again, piercing with blue highlights. Not caring about who else was around. That's how he gets when he's jealous.

"You were laughing with them. Was it a guy?"

"Yeah, baby, it was a guy." I managed that slippery sweet tone that was sure to fan the green flames and pay him back for laughing so hard at me in the other room.

He pulled me around, my back to his front, his shoulders hunched over mine, his arm across my chest, his lips brushing my ear. "Aubrey..."

"A family guy." I couldn't keep him in suspense anymore--- two people had passed and said hi, and he'd ignored them.

"Your brother?"

"Yours."

The arm dropped, the stance relaxed. "What did he want?"

"To know if you had a barbecue."

"I do." He pulled me, pushed me down the hall. "Let's get outta here."

"Is it okay to leave now?"

"I'm done."

"You didn't look done. You left a roomful of people waiting for you."

"They're not waiting for me. We're all done." He wrapped my shoulders in his left arm and opened the outside doors with his right, ushering me through. His car was fairly close--- mine was not. He'd forgotten I drove myself here. "Shit...."

"Five." I answered.

"What?"

"You owe me five bucks."

"The bet is off."

"Oh ho! Now we're married you got the girl and you can start up the cussing again? You have another think coming boyo."

"You're riding with me. I'll have someone bring your car home."

"I don't want anyone else to drive my baby."

"Your car is a bumblebee, not a baby."

"It's a baby bumblebee." He opened his car door for me, and I got in. "And since we're married and you're ignoring the cussing rule, it's ten bucks."

"It can be a freaking hundred bucks." He slid in the driver's side. "And I will try--- try--- try not to cuss."

"Okay, then." I said, satisfied. I leaned back in the seat, the beautiful plush air conditioned seat. I hadn't ridden in this car. It was posh.... Completely celebrity posh.

He pulled out fast, shifting like a champ. "Aubrey. So--- how was work today?"

"Oh." I yawned. "Not too awesome. I mean... it was fine, as far as getting back in the operating room, and the feel of medicine and the familiarity. But yeah.... I saved the mom, but not one of the three babies and the other two are likely to have problems. I don't miss that."

He was silent, driving.

"What'd you think of the set? The contestants?"

I was only too eager to talk about something else. "Ken was nice. He's the only one I met. Him and a bunch of crew people."

"Ken is very talented."

"Cool." I agreed. "The rest--- seems kind of fake for a reality TV show."

"You feel it's fake?" But I could tell he was testing me. He thought it was fake too.

"Completely set up."

"Ah, come on. Not everything I said was set up."

"Forced, unnatural."

"Even by the fourth or fifth rehearsal?" He laughed.

"Yes." I chuckled.

"You met members of the crew? And you liked them?"

"I didn't get to meet them, but I talked to a few, and they were very nice."

He gave me that sideways stare, and I rolled my eyes. "You met some people you liked?"

"Yes. I can like people, you know, and they can like me." I batted my eyes at him and smiled saucily.

"Not really. Not anymore. Not now that we're married and having a baby."

"Oh, not allowed to have friends?"
"Nope. If you didn't have them before we met, they are off limits."

"Well, that would include your whole band."

He barely missed a beat. "Right. The band. You are not to enjoy even one private inside joke with them, and never be alone in the same room with one of them."

I screwed up my lips. "Yes, sir. I'd like to see that one enforced."

"It better be enforced." He warned me, but his voice was kidding as he pulled into the parking lot of one of those very elite baby stores.

"What are we doing?" I asked warily. "I thought we had some jam session at Ben's before dinner? I have to make sure I have the salads, and the desserts, too."

"Number one: I have not bought my little boy any new clothes yet today, and number two: we do have the jam session at Ben's right now as a matter of fact." He glanced at his watch and then texted Ben, and let him know presumably that we'd be late.

******