CHAPTER THREE

I was suffocating. Something heavy was on my chest, forcing all the air out of my lungs.

Oh, that's right.

"Harley, you tub of lard! How did you get out of your crate?" Despite my semi-harsh words, my tone showed my dear dog that he wasn't really in trouble.

"I let him in," my mom said. "You need to get up so you aren't late!"

Late? Oh, that's right. AGAIN.

"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!" This little outburst got me a disapproving look from my mother. She was a bit… strict… about the language in our home. I, as usual, just ignored said look.

I grabbed my favorite outfit (a loose purple shirt with knit trim and teal skinnies) and ran into my bathroom for a quick shower. Harley whined. He had abandonment issues from his life before the animal shelter and hated being left alone. I simply beckoned him in, shut the door, and continued my "getting ready" routine. I pulled my hair into a quick ponytail and was grateful that I do my makeup in the car. Finally, I grabbed Harley's leash and pulled him out to my dad's Durango.

"Don't you need suitcases or something?" my dad asked.

"Look in the back. I did it last night." The entire back view of my dad's Durango was obscured by suitcases, pillows, and the like. Hey, some were Harley's too! Dad just looked at me with a resigned look and got in the car.

On the way over, I noticed my dad was being unusually quiet.

"Hey, Dad. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine," he said gruffly. I could tell something was upsetting him, but I was afraid to push the matter much further. I wanted to leave on good terms.

Eventually we reached the Denny's where the busses were to meet. I was quick to find the AP Mag. bus, but was more excited to see the busses of the bands. We unpacked my things after I introduced my dad to the rest of the AP crew. He seemed greatly satisfied that there were a relatively small number of guys. The ones that were there, he gave a warning glare.

Finally I understood.

"Dad, are you worried about me?"

"Well, of course… Every father… shows concern…"

"Oh Daddy, you DO CARE!" I yelled, hugging him. Of course I knew he cared, I just wanted to embarrass him. He turned red, hugged me back, and left.

Rude. I thought. I forgave him quickly though, it WAS my fault after all.

I dismissed the thought and began rummaging through my bags.

"What are you looking for?" One of my co-workers, Nate, said. He was the manager of AP affairs (aka the "whine-at" guy).

"My camera! Gotta check the scene, duh!"

"Good idea. I think it's in this one."

We spent at least 10 minutes rummaging before I finally found it. In my pillowcase. Good gravy.

I tied Harley's leash to one of my belt loops and headed off to where the vans/busses of the musicians were parked: in a back lot of the restaurant.

I rounded the corner while checking the settings on my camera, then looked up to find myself in a music Wonderland/Narnia.