"Oh, man," Nick said. "I can't believe we finally have a weekend off. Two and a half whole days with Ryan!"
"Two and a half whole days away from you," Richard muttered.
"Now, now, no need to be bitter," CJ scolded.
"Says the man who gets to spend the weekend with his wife," Richard answered bitterly.
"Hey, she's got exams, it's not like I get to see much of her." CJ shrugged. "Mostly I just get to sleep in my own bed."
"I get to sleep in Chris's," Alejandro said, and grinned. "What? Come on, that needed saying."
Chris looked over at him slyly. "If you're lucky," he said, "it'll be two and a half whole days without actually getting out of bed."
Alejandro ducked his head, blushing.
"I really hate you all," Richard muttered.
"Hey, you dumped Shawna," Chris said defensively. "It's not our fault."
Richard rolled his eyes and stared out the window. They were in the cramped tour bus they hadn't used since the old days, but since it was a fairly local leg of the tour—all New England—it seemed silly to fly. And it was kind of nice and nostalgic to actually use the old bus.
The landscape outside the window was fairly dull. They were on a highway, but out in the middle of nowhere; it looked more like a cow path. Hills rose up on one side of the bus, covered in trees; the other side was just fields and fields. It wasn't too scenic, just boring.
There was a loud bang, and the bus dipped wildly. Its occupants yelled, startled and shaken, as it skidded off to the side of the road and jerked to a halt.
"No one move," the bus driver said slowly. "I think we lost a tire."
"A whole tire?" Alejandro asked.
"Well…" The bus driver glanced out the window, winced, and nodded. "Yeah, something just rolled by that I'm pretty sure was a tire. I think if anyone upsets the balance of the bus, it might flip."
"Well, this is an interesting way to start off our vacation," CJ noted.
"I think we could go out a window," Chris said. "Would that tip the bus?"
"Well… Yes," Alejandro said. "Pretty much."
"Um… Then how are we going to get out of here?"
"You know," Chris mused, his thumb sticking out, "I always figured that being a celebrity meant we'd never have to hitchhike."
"You'd think," Nick said. "What I want to know is, where the hell are we that's so remote we don't get any cell phone reception at all?"
"The middle of nowhere," CJ said. "But it's pretty."
"If you say so." Chris wrinkled his nose. "It smells like cows."
"Look at the field to your left, Chris," Alejandro said. Chris did so, and sure enough, a large group of cows was staring at them as they walked by.
"Well, this blows," Richard said. "Instead of getting home, we're hitchhiking."
"And just what fun are you missing out on, Rich? Sitting in your room and staring at the wall?"
"Shut up, CJ," Richard said. "I would be at a club. Getting laid. Which you won't be doing, as your wife has finals."
"Hey, what exactly do you think her preferred form of stress relief is?"
"Wow, I don't want to know," Nick said.
"Then let's make a deal, next time Ryan comes to visit, you two have to make sure you can't be heard down the hall. Let alone halfway across the hotel," CJ snapped. "Honestly, how haven't you two been outed yet?"
Nick shrugged. "Got me, we keep wondering. I think Denton bribes people."
"Look, a sign," Alejandro said, pointing down the road. He squinted. "Freshmeadow: two miles."
"You mean we have to walk for two miles?" Chris demanded.
"Oh, suck it up," Richard snapped, and Chris flipped him off.
"What kind of a town name is Freshmeadow?" CJ asked.
"My guess is a very small, very rural town," Alejandro answered. "Judging by the lack of traffic, people, visible buildings, and the presence of all of the cows."
"Moo," said a nearby cow.
"I don't think I've ever seen a cow this close up before," Chris mused. "Only in zoos."
"What the hell kind of a zoo has cows?"
Chris shrugged.
Freshmeadow, as it turned out, was a rather small, dilapidated farm town. The highway eventually became a sort of main drag, if it could be called that; true, there were buildings on either side, but there weren't actually any lines on the roads. The firehouse they passed looked like an actual house, and Richard was amusing himself by counting the number of trailer parks.
"So this is nice," Nick said, glancing around. "Where's the town?"
"I think this is the town," CJ said.
Nick raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no. The word town implies people. And cell phone reception." He looked with dismay at his cell phone, which had a steady notice of no service, and sighed. If there was a delay in getting home to New York, and more importantly, to Ryan, he wanted to at least call and let Ryan know. He didn't think places without any reception at all still existed.
"Look," Alejandro said, pointing up the road. "That says it's the Town Hall. We can stop there and figure out what to do."
"What to do is to get out of this place." Richard looked around. "It's creepy. Where is everyone?"
"Moo," said a nearby cow.
"And shouldn't the cows be in some sort of… pen? Do you keep cows in pens?"
"I don't keep cows anywhere," Alejandro answered. "Come on." He led the way away from the cow, which chewed its cud disdainfully, and into the Town Hall.
The Town Hall was also dilapidated and run down. It had probably been painted white at one point, but was now a dingy gray; and the once polished building sign was missing several letters. The inside was as bad as the outside, but at least it was cooler, and there was a person, the first one they'd since leaving the bus driver with the bus.
Behind a counter stood a woman, wearing a khaki uniform and looking bored. A star on her chest proclaimed her to be a Deputy Sheriff. She watched them file in, and raised an eyebrow.
"You folks lost?" she guessed.
They looked at one another, and finally Alejandro nodded. "Yeah, our bus broke down a few miles, um, that way." He gestured vaguely back the way they'd come. "We were hoping someone could help us out."
"Well," she said thoughtfully. "Hank can tow a car on the weekends, that ain't no problem, but it's harder to tow a bus, on account of it being bigger."
"I see," he said.
"But Hank could probably tow it for you anyways, if you got insurance and all."
"We do," Alejandro assured her.
"'Course, Hank's on a fishing trip until Monday, so I think you boys might be stuck."
"A fishing trip?" Chris echoed. "Can't you… call him?"
"Ain't no phones up at the lake."
"Can someone drive to the lake?" Alejandro asked. "We can pay for gas and time spent and all…"
"I guess someone could," she said. "But it wouldn't make a particle of nevermind anyhow; the mechanic's visiting his folks for the weekend, and they're a day's drive away."
"Then what would you do if someone's car broke down?" Richard asked. "Or something like that?"
She shrugged. "Well, basically everything's in walking distance anyway," she said.
"Oh. Naturally." Richard rolled his eyes.
"Is there any way we could get our bus repaired, um, tonight?" Alejandro asked.
"Tonight? You got somewhere to be in a hurry?"
"Well, yes, actually," Chris snapped.
"Chris," Alejandro scolded. "Well… yes, actually, but we don't want to inconvenience anyone."
"I was going to say that," Chris muttered.
"Uh huh," Nick said.
Chris stuck out his tongue, and Richard kicked him.
Alejandro cleared his throat. "Sorry about all this," he said. "We're… not from around here."
"Oh, believe me, I can tell," she said. "You boys look familiar, though. None of you got cousins in the area?"
"No…"
"What about in Fallstown? I know all the folks over there, too."
"Uh, no, I don't think so," Alejandro said.
"No, I'm sure I've seen you boys before…"
"Well, possibly on TV," Richard said. "You guys do have television out here, don't you?"
"What do you think we are, a bunch of redneck hicks?" she answered.
Richard opened his mouth and Alejandro stomped on his foot.
"Actually," Chris said, brightening a little bit, "we are kind of famous. A little bit." He flashed her his best grin. "We're the V-Tones. A band."
"Oh, right," she agreed. "I think I heard some of your songs at the last town sockhop, fancy that, a group of celebrities right here in little old Freshmeadow."
"Yes. Fancy that," Richard mumbled.
"So, um," Alejandro said. "Do you have any idea what we could do? About our bus? We kind of had plans in the city tonight…"
"Well, not much you can do about that," she said. "But I tell you what, we got a nice cozy little hotel just down the street."
"Really? A hotel in a town this size?" Nick asked.
She nodded. "It used to be a bar, but they fixed it up pretty nice. Now, you go on down there and they'll help you get set up for the night, and I'll see if I can get someone to track down Hank and maybe see about your bus. You just tell 'em Annie sent you from the Town Hall, all right?"
"Uh, yeah. Thank you, ma'am," Alejandro said.
"Oh, call me Annie, sweetheart," she answered, and winked.
He smiled awkwardly and hurried out.
"I think she liiiikes you," Nick purred.
"Shut up," Alejandro said. "Now, a hotel… can't be too hard to find. I mean, I can see the whole town from here. There are some trailers, a school, a bar, a few cows…"
"Moo."
"I still find the cows a little creepy," CJ said.
"And, the hotel," Alejandro said, pointing. "At least, I assume."
The building he pointed to was small, squat, and unkempt. But it had a sign outside it that read Freshmeadow Tavern, with the word Tavern crossed out and replaced by Hotel.
"Oh, God," Nick said. "That looks horrible. We're not really going to be stuck here, are we?"
"If we are, I'm hitchhiking back to civilization," Richard decided.
"It won't be that bad," CJ answered, elbowing him. "I mean, come on. This place is kind of… quaint. Charming. Provincial. Peaceful."
"Tiny," Chris put in.
"That, too," CJ acknowledged. "It's refreshing."
"It's white trash," Richard said.
"Well, if you're determined not to enjoy it, fine, go hitchhike," CJ snapped. "But don't come crying to me when you get picked up by some pervert with a pop star fetish, who thinks he can make a billion dollars by ransoming you back to us. I wouldn't pay."
Richard groaned, and Alejandro led them into the hotel lobby. It had a shabby green carpet, a very old dog sleeping in the middle, and a very large man with several noticeable tattoos and a smear of black grease that appeared to be hair on top of his head.
"Alejandro, you—"
"Yes, I'll handle it," Alejandro sighed. He approached the man, carefully stepping over the dog in the process. The dog looked up, shifted slightly, let out a sound that was almost a woof, and fell back asleep. "Um, excuse me?"
The man stared at him.
"Do you have any… rooms?"
The man stared at him.
"Hotel rooms? To rent out to people?"
The man stared at him.
"Um… hello? Annie sent us?"
"Oh, why didn't you say?" the man demanded.
"I… didn't think I… Um, okay, yeah. She said you could help us out? We're kind of stranded…"
The man squinted at him. "You ain't from around here," he noted.
"Yeah, no kidding. Do you have any vacancies?"
He looked at them. "You gonna trash my rooms?"
"No, sir," Alejandro said quickly.
"You look like the type to trash rooms."
"Uh, no, sir."
"Well…" he mused. "If Annie sent you, I guess I got a couple rooms I could spare."
"Oh, so it is a hotel," Chris muttered.
"So long as you boys don't mind sharing."
"Sharing?" Richard repeated.
"Well, I got two rooms an' three beds between 'em. That good enough for you," he said derisively, "city boys?"
"Yes, sir, that's fine," Alejandro said quickly, before anyone could answer. He got the distinct impression that, celebrities or not (and he wasn't sure they really were celebrities in this town, since neither of the people they'd met seemed to have any idea who they were) city folks and out of towners weren't exactly welcomed with open arms.
"All right then. I bet you'll want to use a credit card."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I don't take no cards and I don't take no checks from people I don't know."
"Why would someone you know from around here need a hotel roo—"
"Here," Alejandro said, digging for his wallet. "How much for the rooms?"
The man paused, as if he hadn't actually thought out this part of owning a hotel.
"How much you got?" he asked.
Alejandro sighed. "Here's fifty for each room. That's more than we usually pay, but you're just so kind."
"All right, then."
Chris glanced at Richard. "How much do we usually pay a night?"
"I'll tell you later," Richard said.
"Is there a phone we could use?" Alejandro asked.
"Local calls only," the innkeeper said.
"Of course." Alejandro nodded. "Is there a phone somewhere in town where we can call, um, out of town?"
"Yeah, 'cross the street," the man said. "Pay phone."
"Fabulous. Thank you."
The hotel manager seemed to remember something abruptly, and fished around in a drawer for a moment, then produced two room keys. "I'll bet you boys'll be wanting these, then?"
"Yes, that would be helpful. Where…?"
"'Round back, can't miss 'em."
"Which rooms?" Alejandro asked.
"The only two rooms back there."
"Right. Of course." He sighed and began to herd everyone outside. "I paid, so Chris and I get a room to ourselves."
"Hey!" Richard objected.
"Would you like to go deal with the nice man and ask him if there's a third room available?"
"No," Richard sulked.
"Well, then." Alejandro handed one of the keys to Rich, and pocketed the other one. "I guess I'll go call Denton."
"Thanks, Alejandro," Richard said. "I'm going to go try and find somewhere to get something to eat. I doubt this place has room service."
Chris whimpered. "What kind of a town is this?" he asked.
"I'm going to go poke around and get some of the local flavor," CJ said.
Nick stared at him. "By local flavor, you mean cow, right?"
CJ shrugged. "They're kind of cute."
"They're creepy. They just stare at you!"
"Well, think of how bored they must be," CJ answered. "I bet no one ever plays with them."
"CJ, no one plays with cows ever," Alejandro said firmly
"But—"
"No."
"Fine, then I'll just go find some local people." He pouted.
"And I'm going to go find some place with reception," Nick said, holding up his cell phone.
"Good luck," Richard murmured as he walked away.
"I guess…" Chris shrugged. "I'm going to go lie down and pretend we're not here."
"Very mature," Alejandro said.
Chris raised an eyebrow. "You think the local folks would notice if we—"
"Yes," Alejandro said. "And I bet that in a town this small, word gets around. So no."
"Damn. I'll just nap, then."
"All right." Alejandro reached into his pocket and handed Chris the room key. "I'll be back soon."
Chris turned to let himself into the room, and Alejandro crossed the road.
CJ wandered the main street, which he'd noticed was creatively named Main Street. He was still impressed by how spacious the town was; it seemed like a lot of land, and no people. Sure, there were definitely local people staring out their windows at him, but he was used to being stared at, and at least no one was screaming. Probably because no one had seen Chris or Richard yet.
He walked lazily up the street, taking in the sight of the buildings, the trees, and the cows, then paused, and regarded a nearby cow.
The cow chewed its cud and stared at him with its big brown eyes.
He looked around apprehensively, but didn't see any of the other guys around. Which meant no one to scold him. So he walked towards the cow slowly, afraid it might bolt (and not really sure if cows could bolt at all) and held out a hand. The cow didn't move, just stared. So he shrugged and scratched behind its ears.
"Moo," the cow said appreciatively.
"Aww, see, I was right. You just wanted someone to play with. You want to fetch?" He paused. "Do cows fetch?"
The cow didn't answer him, but someone else did. "Cows don't chase much of anything, Mister. You're not from around here, huh?"
He spun guiltily. "I wasn't bothering the cow!" he said. "I mean… um… hi."
He was being watched by two small boys. One was dirty blond and the other had brown hair, but both were clad in frayed, faded overalls and had long sticks which vaguely resembled fishing poles slung over their shoulders.
"Whatcha doing with the cow, Mister?"
"Nothing, I just, um, had never seen one so close before," he said.
"Really? Where you from that they ain't got cows?"
"Uh, California." He shrugged. "I mean, I'm sure there are cows somewhere in the state, but not near me."
"Wow," one boy said to the other. "That's pretty far away."
"Sure is," the other boy answered lazily.
"Whatcha doing in town then, Mister?" the first one asked.
"My bus broke down," CJ said. "It looks like me and the guys—uh, my friends—might be stranded for the weekend."
"You sure picked a good weekend to come visit," the blond boy said.
"Sure did," his brunet counterpart echoed.
"'Cause tonight's the square dance and tomorrow's the barn raisin'."
"Sure is."
"Lots of fun."
"Sure thing."
"Square dance?" CJ repeated hesitantly. "…Barn raising?"
"Yeah, 'cause the Applegates just moved out into the hills so's they can cultivate some more of their fields, but they ain't got a barn big enough for all the new profits they're gonna be makin'," the blond explained.
"Sure don't," the brunet agreed.
"So my daddy an' everyone else is goin' out to help 'em get a new barn built this weekend. With everyone workin' on it, it won't take too long."
"Wow," CJ said. "That's really… nice."
"Mighty neighborly," the blond said. "My name's Tom, and this here is Luke."
"Nice to meet you," CJ said. "I'm CJ."
"That's a weird name," Tom said.
"Sure is."
CJ shrugged. "I guess…" He trailed off. "So what do you guys do around here for fun? Um, other than build barns. And square dance."
"Well, we don't pet cows, that's for sure."
"For sure."
"Bu me and Luke is going out to the fishing hole." He held up the stick, which CJ now assumed was, indeed, a fishing pole. "You wanna come with us? There's always an extra pole or two left around up there."
"Sure," CJ said. "Sounds fun." He pet the cow one last time, then followed Tom and Luke back up onto the road and down the street.
Richard stared up at the bar. He only knew it was a bar because it had a big sign that said so; otherwise, it resembled every other tumbled down house on the main drag. His stomach rumbled, and he groaned. It was clear there weren't any restaurants in town, probably not any grocery stores, either. (He could only assume that everyone ate what they grew themselves, judging by the number of fields he'd seen.) The bar, he'd decided, was his best bet. It might not have a lot of food, but it would at least have peanuts or crackers or something, which might tide him over until Alejandro found a way to get them out of town.
He walked into the bar and discovered that it was almost blanketed with smoke. He coughed, and as he adjusted to it, the overwhelming scent of cheap beer accosted him. He groaned and squinted, trying to make out where the tables, chairs, people and bar were, so he could avoid walking into any of them.
A neon sign was hanging over the bar, so that part was fairly easy. He picked his way through a surprisingly large crowd, trying to avoid the burly men (and the few people who seemed to be equally burly women) and leaned against the bar. "Excuse me?" he called. "Hey… excuse me?"
Someone tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me," a feminine voice said, "but I think you're on my stool."
He glanced over at her, and suddenly felt a little more sure of himself. She had dirty blond hair pulled into two braids, a faded flannel shirt tied up at the navel with a denim jacket over it, and jeans which were surprisingly—and pleasantly—tight.
"Sorry," he said quickly, and moved over.
"Oh, I don't mind or nothing," she said, taking her seat, "since I figure you're from out of town."
"Is it that obvious?" he asked, wishing she could see him better though the smoke.
"Not a lot of guys around here wear specs," she said, and grinned.
He paused, wondering if she recognized him and that was a reference to his nickname, or if she was just stating a fact. There didn't seem to be a lot of other people with glasses around.
"Richard," he said, holding out a hand.
"I know," she answered. "Bobby Jo."
"Nice to meet you," he said. "So… what's there to eat and drink around here?"
She smirked at him, and slapped a hand down on the bar. "Craig, get us a couple a' beers an' sandwiches! We got a celebrity to take care of."
He let out a deep breath. Things were looking up.
Nick stared down at his cell phone. Despite the fact that it was state of the art and had about a million extra bells and whistles which he never used, it was, at the moment, lacking in the key area which made it any good at all: reception. He had actually had a bar of reception for a moment, but then it was gone, and he was back to the no service message.
What kind of place had no service? He shook his head in disbelief and gazed down at the phone. It was impossible that there was no service anywhere; he was certain that if he wandered around for awhile, he'd find somewhere. All he needed was just a bar or two, enough to get a quick message to Ryan that he was going to be late. But that Ryan shouldn't do anything drastic like panic, or get dressed.
He glanced up from his phone and discovered he was at the edge of town. Which meant that nowhere in the town had any reception, so he turned his gaze outwards.
The best guess he had was that maybe if he got up higher, to where there were fewer rocks and cows and whatever else was interfering with his reception, he might be able to make a call. He noted that if he just kept walking, he'd eventually come to some hills; true, they were fairly large looking, but they weren't very distant, so he figured it couldn't be that hard to reach the top. And once he was on the top, he could reach Ryan, and then Ryan could send a helicopter or something to get him out of there.
So Nick struck out for the hills.
Alejandro crossed the street, which seemed to him like an innocent enough move, but in the end, proved to have dire consequences. He could see the pay phone from where he stood, it was at the end of the block; but, not bothering with the cross walk (as there didn't seem to be any cars to speak of, much less to run him over) he stepped out into the street.
And on the other side of the road, a Sheriff looked on disapprovingly.
He crossed the road and stepped back up on to the sidewalk, starting for the payphone, but someone clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Excuse me, son, but I just got to ask, what do you think you're doing?"
Alejandro swiveled and stared. It was like he was looking at someone in a movie; the Sheriff (he knew it was a Sheriff because of the star shaped badge on his chest) was tall, had chiseled features, and broad shoulders. He could also, Alejandro assumed, snap him in half.
"Um, I was just… um…"
"Were you just making a mockery of our justice system and every value we here hold dear?"
"I… I don't think so," Alejandro said. "I just needed to use the phone…" He pointed down the street.
"Use the phone, sure, you think that just because I grew up in a town like this I'm that gullible? You think us small town folk are stupid?"
"Um, no? What? No! I just—have to call my manager—"
"Manager, right, so is that what you city folk call your drug lords?"
"Our what!"
"I was just gonna write you up a ticket, but if you're just headin' off to do drugs—"
"I'm not!"
"Uh huh, now, I don't want to have to search you—"
"Oh, god."
"—but I am gonna have to insist you come with me."
"Go with you? Where?" Alejandro asked, beginning to panic. He quickly glanced around, hoping that one of the others was still in earshot, but didn't see any of them. He jerked out of the Sheriff's grip. "Now, look, I'm not quite sure what you think I did, but I—"
"Resisting arrest, huh?" The Sheriff shook his head. "And now I'm gonna have to cuff you, too. Right here on Main Street. What is this town coming to?"
"You're arresting me!" Alejandro demanded, as the Sheriff reached for the pair of handcuffs on his belt. "For what!"
"Now, son, you have the right to remain silent."
"I'm not your son and I don't know what's going on and I want my lawyer!"
"Well, now, that's your right, we can discuss this down at the station. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"I don't believe this…" Alejandro muttered, as the Sheriff clapped the cuffs around his wrists and began to march him off, still reciting his rights.
The fishing hole turned out to be exactly what CJ had pictured at hearing the phrase. A small stream ran through a wooded area, forming a fairly small but somewhat deeper pool in the shade. And, as Tom and Luke had said, there were several extra sticks, already equipped with fishing line and hooks, sitting around.
"Are there actually fish in there?" he asked, as he sat down cross legged and mimicked Tom's movement of dipping the string into the water and then sitting around lazily.
"Well, we ain't never caught one yet, but that don't mean there aren't none."
"Oh, okay." CJ nodded. "So you guys go fishing a lot?"
"Every day during the summer, 'cept when it rains. And when we go swimming instead. Or the days when we work on buildin' the fort up in the woods."
"I like them days," Luke put in. "Sure are nice."
"Someday we're gonna get it finished," Tom said. "An' it'll be great. No girls allowed."
"Makes sense," CJ said, and only felt a little bit guilty when he glanced down at his wedding ring.
"We'd get it done sooner, but I like fishing more," Tom said. "It's more fun than building."
"Or swimming," Luke added.
"'Cept for when it's really hot, then I like swimming more than fishing."
"Or building."
"Where do you guys swim? Is there a pool around?" CJ asked.
"Nope," Luke said.
"Swimming hole," Tom said. "It's further on down there." He pointed down the stream. "It's a lot like this, but bigger."
"Lots bigger," Luke said.
"So why don't you fish there?" CJ asked.
"'Cause it's for swimming."
"Oh. Of course." He nodded. That made sense.
Chris rolled over in bed. It was too hot to actually nap, and the room didn't have anything useful like an A/C or a fan. He'd kicked off the sheet, and had nervously undressed, feeling a little bit awkward lying around in his underwear in such a… gross… room.
But the one thing the room did have was a clock, and unless he was mistaken, it had been almost two hours since Alejandro had gone to call Denton. And Chris had expected him back much sooner than that. Because for all Alejandro said there would be no fooling around… Well, they were on vacation. And if they were going to be stuck in a miserable little town for very much of it, Chris fully intended to at least have some fun.
But no. Two hours, and no Alejandro.
Another half hour passed, and then another.
Three hours. Chris gave up on trying to nap, sat up, and pulled his shirt back on. Alejandro was more responsible than that, if he wasn't back, something terrible must have happened to him. Maybe the local people figured out who he was and had rioted and torn his clothing off… quietly. Or maybe the cows had stampeded and he'd been crushed or something.
There was a loud knock on the door, and Chris let out a deep breath. "One sec!" he called, and looked down at his pants. It was probably just Alejandro, so he didn't bother to pull them on as he hurried to the door, and swung it open.
Outside stood the hotel's owner.
Chris stared at him.
He stared at Chris.
"You got a phone call in the main lobby," the man said. "An' I don't know 'bout you city boys, but 'round here, most folks usually wear pants."
Chris nodded. "I'll be right there," he said, shut the door, and put on his pants.
The hotel owner was still waiting when he walked out, and he thought about trying to explain, then thought better of it. There was really no way to make that situation less awkward, anyway.
Inside the lobby, the first room they'd been in, the manager handed him a phone. The dog shifted to another section of the carpet and fell back asleep. Chris picked up the phone and said hesitantly, "Hello?"
"Chris, honey? It's Alejandro."
"Alejandro! Where have you been? Where are you? I've been worried sick!"
"Aww, that's really sweet," Alejandro said. "So, here's the thing."
"You found a way to get us out of here?"
"Not quite. Um. I seem to have been arrested."
"Uh huh, this really isn't a good time for joking, I have to explain to the nice hotel man why I wasn't wearing any pants and I'd really rather just leave."
"You have to explain… No, on second thought, I don't want to know. Chris, I'm not joking, I've been arrested. I need you to come to the local Sheriff's office with bail money. Not that they've been able to find a judge to give me a bail hearing, but I'd really like to be ready so I can get out of here as quickly as possible."
"Alejandro, be serious."
"Chris, listen to my voice. Do I sound like I'm joking?"
"Well, no, but come on, I'm not that dumb."
Alejandro snorted.
"Hey! Anyway, what could you possibly have been arrested for?"
"Well, that's the kicker. They haven't actually told me yet. They just cuffed me and stuffed me in here, and I'd really like to get out of here, so if you could come bail me out, I'd really appreciate it."
"You're not joking, are you?"
"Do I sound like I'm joking? Just get over here."
"Hey, be nice to me, I'm bailing you out."
"Chris, if you don't bail me out, they'll have to up my charge to murder. I've been in jail for three hours. I would like to get out." There was an unintelligible mumbling on the other end of the phone, then Alejandro's voice: "What? No, I wasn't actually going to murder—if I was, would I have said so with you listening? No, I'm not trying to be a smart aleck! I—Chris, hon, I've got to go. Bail money. Quickly. Thank you."
Then dial tone.
Chris stared at the phone in disbelief. "Um, excuse me?" he said to the hotel manager. "Could you tell me where the nearest jail is?"
"Billy? Billy, come over here!" Bobby Jo waved enthusiastically, and she and Richard were joined by another girl.
Richard, though he was becoming increasingly drunk, did not comment on the fact that the girl was named Billy. He was, however, fairly impressed with Bobby Jo's ability to drink cheap beer and not be at all affected. True, it had taken awhile for it to get to Richard; but now that it had gotten to him, he was feeling rather… woozy.
Perhaps because he never did find anything to eat. The sandwiches Bobby Jo had ordered for them had been basically inedible; he was pretty sure that that particular color of cheese was not found in nature anywhere.
"Bobby Jo, where have you been, we've been waiting over at Sue's house, I… Oh." She saw Richard, and gasped a little, then clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my," she added finally.
"Hi," he said. "I'm Richard."
"Oh, honey, she knows," Bobby Jo said. "She's one of your biggest fans."
"I've got all your albums," Billy said. "And a big ol' poster of you on my wall. I don't believe this! What are you doing in town?"
"Tour bus broke down," he said. "I could be here for a couple days."
"Oh, my," she said again. "Bobby, what are you doing getting him all sick like this?"
"It was his idea," Bobby Jo said.
"Actually, I just wanted something to eat…" Richard mumbled. Which was true. He just didn't also want to admit that he'd been drunk under the table by a girl.
Billy glared at Bobby Jo, and wrapped an arm around him. "Well, don't you worry about a thing, sugar. I'll cook you whatever you want."
"He don't want nothing you can cook, Billy," Bobby Jo snapped.
"Says you," Billy answered, and helped Richard to his feet.
"Hey, no need to fight," Richard said, wrapping an arm around Billy's shoulder and his other arm around Bobby Jo's, as much because he needed help standing as anything else. "Why don't we all go find something to eat and somewhere to… talk."
The three of them swaggered out of the bar together, Richard staggering in the middle.
Alejandro stared through the bars blankly. He was lying on his side on an old, flat mattress, waiting for something to happen. Either Chris would show up, or someone would tell him this was a joke, or something.
Instead, Annie walked in to the back and stood outside his cell. "Oh, honey," she said. "How'd you wind up in here?"
"That's what I'd like to know," he answered, sitting up. "The Sheriff never actually told me what he was arresting me for."
"Well, you know how it is," Annie answered.
"No, I really don't. Did I do something wrong?"
"Well, you must have, if you're in jail." She smiled at him. "Don't worry, I sent my brother around to get the judge sobered up, he should be ready for your bail hearing by morning."
"Morning?" Alejandro repeated. "You mean I have to spend the night here?"
"Well, it looks that way. Ain't very often we get the judge sober on a weekend at all, usually we'd have to hold you 'til Monday, but since you boys are famous and we don't want no one saying bad things about our town, we got the ball rolling for you as quick as possible."
"I appreciate that," Alejandro said. "I really do. But, um, what the hell was I arrested for!"
"No need to swear," Annie said. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Alejandro groaned. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper for a moment. But you have to understand, this is the first day off I've had in a month, I had dinner reservations in the city this evening, and I don't think I actually did anything wrong, so I'm a little bit pissed off!"
"Why don't I leave you alone to cool off for awhile then, Alejandro?" she suggested, and turned to leave.
"Annie, wait!" he yelped. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I've just… never been arrested before. I don't know what to do."
"Well, you sit there and…" She shrugged. "That's about it, really. So you're doing a pretty good job so far, jailbird."
He groaned. "Could you at least try and find out what I got arrested for?" he pleaded. "Please?"
"Well, I think I could do that." She smiled warmly. "Now you just sit tight and I'll be back in awhile. Don't go anywhere." She laughed. "That's a little bit of prison humor for you."
"Ahahaha. Hilarious. Thank you." Alejandro crossed his arms, and Annie sauntered back out of the jail.
Even though he was in great shape from touring, Nick was huffing slightly by the time he reached the top of the nearest hill. It had been both larger and steeper than he'd expected. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled out a couple of stray leaves that had gotten stuck.
His stomach grumbled slightly, but he paid it no mind. When Ryan sent a helicopter for him, he'd make sure it had food. Of course, that assumed that he could reach Ryan. He glanced down at his cell phone. It still had the hateful no service message.
"Fine," he muttered. "I'm just not high up enough yet."
He turned around and glanced behind him. The town was still visible beneath him – the cows must have been swallowing up all of the reception.
Nick took a deep breath and started towards the next hill.
CJ leaned on his back and watched the fireflies flit above him. "We sure don't have any of those in the city," he said drowsily.
"No fireflies?" Tom asked, lying down next to him. "Then what do you catch and keep in jars?"
CJ thought about it for a long minute. "Uh… pickles?"
"Those don't count, those come in jars," Luke said disdainfully.
"'Cept when my Mama makes pickles out of cucumbers from our garden," Tom added.
CJ sat up and looked at the two boys in wonder. "You make pickles here?"
"Sure do."
"I didn't know you could do that! I thought they… grew on trees… already pickled…"
"Pickle trees? Now that's just silly," Luke replied.
Tom sat up. "I guess we'd better get home if we want to wash our faces before the square dance starts."
"Mama always says you gotta wash your face before you go dancin'."
"Well, that's good advice," CJ said. "So, uh, I'll… see you later, then?"
The two boys exchanged glances and then looked back at him.
"Well, uh, you… wanna come with us?" Tom asked.
"Sure do!" CJ said.
"Well, come on then," Tom said, rolling to his feet and picking up his fishing pole. "It's just a short stroll to my house from here."
CJ stood up and followed them back out of the woods. Tom's house was small, with a run-down picket fence surrounding it, but the garden was well-kept. Tom swung the door open. "Mama, we're back!" he yelled.
"Mom's out!" a girl's voice yelled back. "Don't be trackin' up the carpet or you get to clean it!"
Tom grumbled but stomped his feet on the porch, then led the way inside. Luke echoed the motion and so did CJ, then followed him in. Tom made straight for the back of the house, but CJ walked a little bit more slowly, looking around. It was all wood, made up of well fitted planks, but they didn't seem to have been painted. It gave it the feeling of a nice little cottage.
Through one partially open door he saw a couple of young women sitting at a table, and a guy with dark hair between them, who looked a little tipsy. CJ did a double take, immediately assuming that a drunk guy with several girls was probably Richard, but Tom and Luke were waiting impatiently for him at the end of the hall, so he didn't stop to investigate.
"That's just my stupid sister and her friends," Tom explained, and opened the door to a cramped bathroom.
"Okay," CJ agreed, as Tom set about washing his face and hands. Luke went next, after Tom had dried off, and then CJ. He groped for a towel, not sure which one to use, but Tom handed him one. "Thanks," he said. "Much cleaner."
"Sure are," Luke said.
"Um… is this okay to wear to the square dance?" CJ asked, glancing down at himself.
"Well…" Tom examined him. "You look a little gay. Does everyone in the city dress like that?"
"Yeah, pretty much." CJ shrugged.
"It'll have to do," Tom decided.
"Sure will," Luke agreed. "Don't think you'd fit any of my clothes."
"Guess not," CJ said. "Hey… you got any of those homemade pickles?"
"Yep," Tom said. "I'll go get one. The girls are in the kitchen, you don't want to talk to them." He made a face.
"Ught. Girls," Luke agreed.
CJ nodded his agreement, neglecting to mention the fact that he was married. Tom hurried off to the kitchen, and CJ could hear the sounds of a typical sibling fight.
"Oooh, is that your new boyfriend?"
"Shut up, monster!"
"You shut up!"
"You shut up!"
"I'll tell Mom you were drinking!"
"Mom was at the bar!"
"Shut up!"
"You shut up!"
The kitchen door slammed shut, and Tom reappeared, holding a grimy glass jar, filled with homemade pickles and brine.
Chris hurried into the police station, where Annie was sitting at a desk, filing her nails. "Why, hello, honey," she greeted him. "I'll bet you're here to see Alejandro."
He nodded anxiously. "Is Alejandro okay?"
"He's just a little bit… out of sorts," she said. "Every time I try to talk to him he just yells at me."
"That doesn't sound like Alejandro…" Chris said. "Can I see him?"
"Well, it isn't regulations," she said. "But I don't see why not. This way." She stood up and led Chris past a large, ominous locked door into the back. There were several barred jail cells, but only one was occupied; Alejandro sat on the bare mattress, looking angry.
"Alejandro!" Chris yelled, running over to the cell and reaching through the bars.
"Chris. Darling. Nice of you to show up."
"I got lost." Chris frowned.
"Where!" Alejandro demanded. "I can pretty much see the entire town when I look out the window of my jail cell and you got lost!"
"Don't yell at me!" Chris sulked. "I brought cash. How much is your bail?"
"I don't know yet," Alejandro said, after taking a deep breath. "It seems the judge wasn't at the local tavern, and no one is sure where he is. So no bail hearing yet. Which is just as well, since they still haven't told me why I was arrested!"
"Oh, sugarpie, I checked your rap sheet," Annie put in from behind Chris.
"And?" Alejandro asked.
"Well, it seems that our Sheriff caught you jay walking."
Alejandro stared at her.
"What?" she asked.
"JAY WALKING? That idiot arrested me for crossing the street outside of a crosswalk!"
Chris stared at Alejandro in shock.
"Now, it's not nice to call him an idiot, he was only doing his job. Actually, it seems he was only going to ticket you, but he had to take you in on account of your suspicious behavior and resisting arrest."
"How can I have resisted arrest when he wasn't going to arrest me!" Alejandro screamed. "And how is using the phone suspicious!"
"Well, it says you were going to call your drug dealer and he wanted to put a stop to that for your own good."
"Drug dealer? Alejandro?" Chris asked, confused. "I don't think so."
"I was going," Alejandro said through clenched teeth, "to call our manager, to get another bus to come pick us up so we wouldn't be stranded in this godforsaken town! And now I'm in jail!"
Annie shrugged. "Well, if it's just a misunderstanding, I'm sure the judge will let you go just as soon as we can find him."
"Have you tried his house?" Alejandro demanded.
"Call the judge at his home on a weekend? Now that's just impolite, he works so hard all week. Let the man have his rest."
Alejandro screamed.
Chris pulled away from the cell, looking a little scared. "Calm down!" he finally yelped. "Alejandro, everything will be fine!"
"Chris," Alejandro said seriously. "I need you to figure out where the judge lives. I need you to get him here. Right. Now. I also need you to call our lawyer. And Denton. And…" He hesitated, then nodded. "Richard's mom."
"Wow, you mean business," Chris said.
"I want to get out of jail!"
"Okay," Chris said, nodding emphatically. "Okay. If they won't get you a judge, I will. No problem. Um, you never called Denton?"
"I was arrested before I could use the phone."
"What about your one phone call?"
"I called you."
"Oh," Chris said. "Right. Well, I'll hurry back, okay? Don't worry. It'll be fine!"
He hurried back out towards the front of the police station, and behind him heard Alejandro mutter, "Jay walking? Seriously?"
Annie let him out of the locked section and he ran onto the road. For the first time, there were people around; most of them looked like teenagers and pre-teens, all heading in the same direction.
"Hey!" he called, waving his arms and running towards the nearest group, a few girls. "Hey, can you help me? Can you tell me where I can find a judge?"
They stared at him.
"Oh my god!" one of them screamed. "Chris Ivers!"
"Uh…" He stared at them, as they began running towards him. He looked up, and so were several others.
He turned and fled.
"Jay walking? Seriously?" Alejandro asked.
"Well, honey, you know how these small towns are. They like everything to be law and order, and outsiders…" She shrugged.
"Outsiders?" he repeated. "So I got arrested because I'm from out of town?"
"Well, I guess the Sheriff figured you were probably more likely to be on drugs. I mean…"
Alejandro stared at her.
She trailed off guiltily.
"So I got arrested for being Hispanic," he said. "Well, fuck you, too."
"Hey, now," she snapped. "I didn't have anything to do with it! I'm doing everything I can to get you out of here, Alejandro."
"Great, thanks," he muttered.
Somewhere outside, there was a sudden high pitched scream. Annie looked startled, but Alejandro just groaned. He was more than familiar with the sound: it was what many girls sounded like, once they caught sight of Chris Ivers.
"I do hope he's still good at sprinting," Alejandro said to himself.
Annie raised an eyebrow. "Should I go rescue your friend?" she asked.
"Good luck."
Ryan paced the floor of the hotel room in New York anxiously. It wasn't like Nick to be late meeting him. They had so little time together that Nick never wasted a second of it. And it was even less like Nick to be seven hours late, and to not call or anything.
He stared at his phone, which he'd left sitting on a table. It didn't ring. He let out a strangled yell and threw himself down on the bed. Where the hell was Nick!
He had tried calling Nick, about eighteen times, and only got voicemail. He'd then called everyone else in the band, and only got voicemail. No one was answering their phones, so either something really weird and bad had happened, or Nick was very mad at him and they were all screening their calls.
But Nick had called him just that morning to tell him how much he loved him, and tease him with a description of a particularly skimpy piece of underwear… There was no way he'd gotten this angry since then.
Which meant something weird and bad had happened.
Ryan sat up, grabbed his phone, and dialed 9-1-1.
"This is 9-1-1 emergencies, how can I help you?" a very calm sounding woman asked.
"I think my boyfriend has been kidnapped," Ryan answered. "I can't get a hold of him anywhere. I've called him a bunch of times and he's not answering! And none of the people he's with were answering! Oh god, what if they're all dead!"
"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down. When was the last time you spoke to your boyfriend?"
"Um, around eleven this morning. He was supposed to get into the city by two and be at the hotel by three, but he wasn't! And now it's after dark! It's almost nine!"
"Sir—"
"He hasn't called me! He's never not called me. He must be dead or injured or… Oh my god, kidnapped! Someone kidnapped Nick! Oh, I hope they don't beat him, my poor baby…"
"Sir, please don't panic. If it hasn't been twenty-four hours, the police can't start a search and there's no need to worry yet. I'm sure your friend is stranded at an airport, or—"
"He can't get stranded!" Ryan yelled. "We're talking about the V-Tones, for Christ's sake! How can a pop band get stranded at an airport and why wouldn't he have called me!"
"Sir, I'm going to need you to stop yelling and take a deep breath."
"There isn't time to breathe, Nick could be dead and you're not helping me! You don't understand, they're famous, people would kidnap them and hold them for ransom and my god, what if they cut off his finger or something! Do you hear that! Someone could be cutting off his fingers!"
"Look, sir, I'm afraid that if you friends haven't been gone for a full day, there isn't much I can do for you. I suggest you call the airport or hotel where they were last seen and check to see if there are any messages, or—"
"You are no help at all!" Ryan yelled. "Fine, I'll find him myself!"
He slammed the phone down and contemplated. How did one go about finding a group of lost pop stars whose limbs might be severed at any moment?