Written for a prompt over at A-Team prompts requesting some post-Beneath the Surface h/c. Also, featuring a little bit of the fantastic Allman Brothers.
I woke up this mornin', I had them Statesboro blues
I woke up this mornin', I had them Statesboro blues
Still high from the rush of the concert, Templeton Peck strolled into his small, sparsely decorated room, tossed his keys on the dresser, and flopped onto his bed. "Man," he said, "Those Allman Brothers are sure somethin' else!"
His grin widened at the silence in the room. "Seriously, I coulda stayed there forever – front row seats, superb view of the stage . . ."
Still no reply. He raised onto his side, looking up with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Jenny didn't seem to mind it too much either . . ."
His roommate Barry chuckled from where he stood, rummaging in the top drawer of his dresser. "That's great man, glad it was a good time."
Templeton laughed knowingly at his friend. Sure buddy, he thought, and what did you do, stuck here all day? He wasn't intentionally mean to the guy, but he'd never have been conned out of his tickets – Barry was a good pal, sure, but he was so damned easy sometimes.
Barry lifted an armload of clothes from his dresser drawer and tossed it on his bed, where a half full duffel bag rested. He lifted out the last of the drawer's contents, then turned to the bed and shoved everything into the bag.
"What're you doing?" Templeton asked, leaning up on an elbow to watch, curious.
"Packing." Barry grabbed a book off his night stand (Treasure Island, Rand McNally, 1916) and tossed it in on top of the clothes. Grinning.
Templeton sat up, brows furrowed. "I can see that, buddy, but where are you going?"
There was a knock at the door. Barry crammed down the contents of his duffel. "I'm shipping out today, Temp, remember?"
"Shipping out?"
Barry shook his head as if amused, zipped up the bag. "Yeah, shipping out."
A knock sounded again, the doorknob jiggled, and a slightly muffled voice drifted through the door, "You ready kid?"
"Is that–" Templeton glanced at the closed door, then back to his friend. "What's going on?"
The door opened. Barry laughed again. "That was our deal, remember?" he asked. "You got the tickets, went to the concert with your girl. I got to be you for a couple of hours." He stood, threw his bag over his shoulder, walked over to meet Hannibal at the door.
All the air left Templeton's lungs, and he couldn't call it back. Barry turned to him for a moment, speaking again before he left. "The team really liked me. They decided to take me in – I'll tell them the truth later."
He stepped out.
The door slammed shut.
Face woke up, gasping.