Seven

We Built This City

 

Breakfast had ended, but the table still wore the evidence—forgotten bites of pancake, glistening trails of syrup, and soft clouds of whipped cream. The comforting aroma of coffee lingered in the air like a final note in a song as Jon checked his watch. Time to drive the kids back to the city. While he handled the drop-off, Ari and Lily would pack for the next round of shows in Toronto. Later, they'd all meet at the airport with the band.

 

He stood, kissed Ari and Lily goodbye, and turned to the others with a gentle smile. “Wash your hands, sticky fingers,” he reminded them as they darted toward the door. The car was already waiting in the drive. As it pulled away from the house, Jon pulled out his phone to check his messages, the familiar rhythm of the day settling in. From the backseat, voices rose in joyful bursts, just as they had over breakfast—full of curiosity, laughter, and talk of the new baby.

 

“Hey Dad, do you think the new baby will like pizza?” Romeo asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

 

“If he or she is anything like you, I’d say yes. Maybe even more.”

 

“I hope it’s another girl,” Stephanie chimed in. “We need to even out the teams.”

 

“God, no!” Jesse groaned, tossing his head back in mock horror.

 

Stephanie leaned forward, serious now. “What do you want, Dad?”

 

Jon caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, his tone soft. “A healthy, happy baby. That’s all I ask.”

 

The car rolled to a stop in front of the tall brick building. Without waiting, the kids leapt out and raced each other to the front door, their laughter echoing off the sidewalk. Jon told the driver he’d only be a few minutes and slipped out behind them, catching up just as the elevator doors opened. When they reached the right floor, he paused for a breath—Dorothea was already standing at the door, arms crossed, waiting.

 

“Mom! Mom! Guess what? Ari’s having a baby!” Jake shouted, bursting with excitement.

 

“Wow,” she said, voice even. “That’s big news.” The words were right, but her eyes told a different story.

 

“All right, hugs and kisses,” Jon said, stretching his arms wide. “I need to talk with your mother. I’ll see you all in a few days.”

 

Once the kids disappeared down the hall, Jon folded his arms across his chest, his expression hardening. “Go ahead. Let me hear it.”

 

“Don’t come at me with an attitude,” Dorothea snapped.

 

“You mean like the one you gave Ariana last night?” he asked with a smirk, knowing exactly where to press.

 

“Please. I’ve earned the right to have an attitude. Don’t you think?”

 

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Not really.”

 

She stepped closer, voice rising. “Let’s see. A mistress for twenty years, a baby, divorce papers, and now—surprise—another baby. And all in one year. So yes, I’ve earned every damn ounce of this attitude!”

 

He took a deep breath, trying to stay level. This back-and-forth had played on a loop for months. The bitterness, the blame—it was exhausting. They were grown adults, for God’s sake.

 

“This isn’t about us anymore,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s about the kids. Can you please just be civil for once?”

 

“Civil?” she echoed, narrowing her eyes.

 

“Yes! The kids are excited about the baby. You should be happy for them.”

 

“Oh, you think I’m going to sit here and clap while you go play house and make more babies?” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

He stepped in, voice low and calm, but edged with warning. “Look at you—angry, bitter. You could be happy for them, but instead you choose to be an a—”

 

“A what, Jon?” she shot back, fire in her eyes.

 

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. He’d lived in this storm long enough to know it wasn’t going to pass today. Maybe not ever. But he was done standing in the eye of it.

 

“I don’t have time for this bullshit anymore,” he muttered, stepping into the waiting elevator. “Jeanie will send you the details for Friday,” he added just before the doors closed.

 

Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes as the elevator hummed its way down. His thoughts drifted to breakfast—the laughter, the questions, the bright eyes full of wonder about the baby to come. The kids didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess, trapped in a tug-of-war between old wounds and new beginnings.

 

When the elevator doors slid open, he stepped out into the city’s rhythm. With every stride, the weight of the argument began to lift. The sidewalk buzzed with life, people rushing by, horns honking, the sun warming the back of his neck.

 

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. A message.

 

Jon. Remember to play nice.

 

He smiled. Ari—clear, grounded, and always a step ahead.

 

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

Excitement buzzed through the air as Jon and Ari stepped into the Air Canada Centre. The vast, echoing space—still empty of fans but alive with purpose—was already humming with activity. Crew members moved with focused energy, their voices bouncing off the steel rafters, mingling with the rhythmic thud of crates being rolled across concrete and the distant whir of stage machinery.

 

Lily, snug in her baby carrier on Ari’s chest, waved her tiny hands in the air as if conducting the invisible orchestra of sound around her. Music played softly from a nearby speaker, blending into the organized chaos. This was a world both Jon and Ari knew well—one built on adrenaline, timing, and trust.

 

They made their way through the backstage corridor, weaving around cables and gear cases. As they reached the spot where their paths would split—Jon heading to interviews, Ari to the crew—he caught her eye.

 

“I’ll meet you back here after the interviews,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses.

 

“Sounds good. Maybe lose the sunglasses,” she teased with a shrug.

 

“Only if you remember not to overdo it. You’ve got a team for a reason.” He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning toward the dressing rooms.

 

“Alright, Lily,” Ari said with a smile, “let’s go find the crew.”

 

She tightened the straps of the carrier, ensuring Lily was secure, and navigated deeper into the maze of activity. The familiar sounds of backstage life—laughter, shouting, metal clanging—mixed with the glow of overhead work lights and the glint of trusses high above. Her pulse quickened, the rush of show prep as familiar and thrilling as ever.

 

“Hey, Kennedy!” Ari called out, spotting her lead tech in the middle of a circle of roadies.

 

“Boss, you made it!” Kennedy grinned, eyes lighting up as she noticed Lily’s flailing arms. “Looks like someone’s ready to rock and roll.”

 

“Me or this one?” Ari laughed.

 

“Both.”

 

Ari chuckled, scanning the activity around them. “Whaddaya say we go find Lefty and Stan? This stage isn’t going to build itself.”

 

“Sure thing. They were working on the lighting rig,” Kennedy said, nodding toward a cluster of techs in the distance.

 

“Kennedy!” a voice shouted from behind them.

 

“We were just looking for you,” Ari said, turning to find Lefty approaching.

 

“Perfect timing,” he replied. The smoke from his cigarette curled lazily upward. “I was just about to track down Stan.”

 

“Lead the way.”

 

As they crossed the floor toward the lighting setup, Ari was impressed by the progress. Towering metal trusses already hung in place, gleaming under work lights, with cables stretching like veins across the floor. Techs shouted directions, their practiced movements quick and fluid. There was still plenty to finish, but the energy was good—light, confident, focused.

 

“Hey boss,” someone called from behind a scaffold, “can you hand me that wrench?”

 

“Here you go!” Ari replied, tossing it gently toward Kennedy.

 

“Nice throw! If you ever give this up, you’ve got a future in sports.”

 

“Yeah, right. I think I’ll stick to what I know best.”

 

Just then, a loud thud rang out from the opposite side of the stage, followed by a series of muffled curses. Ari couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“That has to be Stan,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

 

“Should we check on them?” Kennedy offered, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Would you mind?” Ari looked down at Lily, who had fallen fast asleep. “I’m going to see if I can find Cliff and put her down somewhere.”

 

“Sure thing. I’ve got Fruit Loops in my backpack if you need them.”

 

“I’m good, thanks,” Ari smiled.

 

Kennedy gave her a playful salute before heading off in the direction of the thud—either to assist or, more likely, to confirm that Stan hadn’t knocked himself out again.