By the time they'd finished eating, Shane and Jason were no where in sight. Mitchie grabbed two PB&J sandwiches for them as they left for the limo. The had to use the stretched one , what with Shane's parents coming. Who knew how much luggage they'd have?
"So," Nate said. "Who do you think will get out here first?"
"Jason," the girls answered together.
"Yeah," Nate agreed. "He may take forever choosing shoes but Shane takes forever at, well, everything!"
Caitlynn was lost in thought. "Hey, Nate," she said suddenly. "Do you have a recording or maybe a picture of that incident last Christmas?"
"As a matter of fact," Nate grinned and pulled out his phone. "I had Jason take a video clip. Check it."
The girls watched the screen. Shane was standing by a window, looking out. Snow was falling. He was next to a lavishly decorated Christmas tree.
"Where is this?" Mitchie asked.
"Shh! At my house," Nate whispered. He turned the sound up.
Nate came into veiw holding a large bag. He crept up, winked at the camera, then jumped up. Pulling Shane's shirt collar back, he poured them down his back, ignoring the angry and confused "Hey! What…? NATE!" Shane twisted, trying to get the mints out. Doing so caused a shower of mints to fall out the bottom of his shirt.
He glared at the retreating Nate. He twisted again, muttering "Oh, god. NATE! One got into my pants, you idiot!" Then he darted for Nate, who ducked out of the way and ran down a hallway.
The camera followed them to show Shane footbal tackling Nate to the floor. Then the screen went black.
Caitlynn started applauding. "Beautiful, Nate!"
Mitchie giggled, then suddenly glanced up at the door. Her eyes widened. "I don't believe it. It's Shane!"
"WHAT?!" the others crowded the window. Sure enough, it was Shane walking out first, not Jason. Jason was not in sight.
He got into the limo, whistling cheerfully. He caught sight of everyone's stare and stopped. "What?" he demanded.
"How in the world are you out here before Jason?" Mitchie demanded when she found her voice.
"Well, he was just heading out when Tizzy threw up on his boot collection," Shane started.
"Oh boy," the others said together. No one, not even the butler, touched Jason's boots. Only him.
"Yeah. And then when the Barty tried to clean it up, Tizzy tried to maim him. Jason was still trying to clean his boots when I left."
Mitchie laughed. "Here's your breakfast," she said, handing him the sandwich.
"Thanks."
00
Shane's parents, Samantha and Michael Gray, were simple people. Emphasis on the were. They'd never understood their son's love of music, but they let him pursue his dream, thinking nothing would ever come out of it.
Obviously, something did. And now Mr. and Mrs. Gray resided in the Bahamas…or Hawaii…or Cleveland, depending on the mood.
This time, they'd flown in from Hawaii and were impatiently awaiting their ride next to a moutain of luggage.
Shane could tell all this the moment he spotted them in the airport. He groaned. "Remind me again why I had to get up this morning?" he asked Mitchie.
"Because otherwise Tizzy would have peed on you," she answered matter of factly.
"I'm starting to think that was the better deal," he muttered, but only so he could hear.
"Shane, darling!" his mother cried, coming forward and hugging him.
He sighed. What a pathetic act. "Hey, Mom," he said, pulling away. "You remember my friends in the band, right?"
"Oh, yes," she trilled. "Nice to see you again…um…"
They exchanged a glance. But Caitlynn was the one to answer for them.
"Jason and Nate," she said, frowning. What kinda mother was this?
"And you are?" Shane's father asked. He was a tall man with a deep voice, contrasting to Shane's mother; petite, thin and (fake) platinum blonde.
"This is my girlfriend," Nate cut in. "Caitlynn."
"Oh, well, hello dear," Samantha flustered. Then she caught sight of Mitchie, standing beside of Shane, a little ways behind him. "Oh," she purred. "Who is this?"
Mitchie looked up. "I'm Mitchie Torres," she said. "I go on tour with Connect 3 often. Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gray."
"Mitchie is my best friend," Shane interjected.
His parents appraised her. Mitchie bit her lip.
"I've seen you somewhere before," Michael commented.
"Uh…well…" Mitchie stuttered. "I was on MTV with Shane last week. Maybe…"
He nodded, looking bored. "Perhaps."
An awkward silence echoed through the group until Barty cut in. "Well," he said. "Let us get a move on. May I take your many bags?"
"Do I look unable to carry them myself?" Samantha snapped. Even so, she handed him a few bags before taking some herself.
"I see where you get your charm," Mitchie whispered to Shane as they trailed behind the rest. "No offence."
He smiled and put an arm around her waist. "None taken," he promised. "Not the most pleasant people in the world."
"No wonder you were a jerk when I first met you," Mitchie murmmered.
Shane grinned. "Hey, like I said, being a jerk is a part of the rock star image."
"Maybe so," Mitchie argued. "But I think being a non-jerk helps with your popularity." As if on que, a few girls suddenly screamed.
"Connect 3! Shane!" they cried, jumping up and running to them. "OMG Mitchie Torres!"
The stars exchanged a glance and stopped. After signing about a million autographs, they finally managed to make it back to the limo.
"Well, that was certainly unnessary," Michael grumbled. "Why did you stop to sign autographs? We happen to be going somewhere."
Shane sighed, closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Because," he said slowly. "They are fans and we don't have a deadline. Besides, what's it matter?"
"Can't these people give us privacy?" Samantha asked as some other people started to stare.
"You want privacy?" Shane muttered. "Then go back to whatever house you're staying at."
His parents ignored him. Mitchie glanced between them and sighed. They weren't even catching up on things. Michael was staring out the window and Samantha was re applying lip gloss. Shane was staring at his shoes.
Mitchie and Caitlynn exchanged a glance. Obviously, this family needed help.
Badly.
