CHAPTER 2
Getting out of Manhattan wasn't as difficult as Davey had expected, even with the morning traffic slowing things down a bit. No matter; they could easily make up the time. Davey had looked up directions for the trip the night before, making sure he was familiar with the route, and had plotted out rest stops along the way. If all went according to plan, they would reach Santa Fe sometime Thursday afternoon.
No sooner had they hit the highway, when Race dug into his duffle bag and pulled out a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts. "Ya want some?" he asked, offering a shiny silver package to Davey.
"No thanks," Davey replied. "I usually just stick with coffee."
Race shrugged. "Suit yourself." He slid a toaster pastry out of its package and shoved half of it into his mouth, chewing noisily with evident enjoyment.
"Do you eat that every morning?" Davey asked, trying not to look askance at the crumbs now littering the previously clean passenger seat.
"Yup." Race washed down the Pop-Tart with a swig of Sunny D.
Davey grimaced. He remembered Jack's admonition to limit Race's Pop-Tart intake, but he didn't want to start the trip with a dispute. And technically, Race had ingested something besides the Pop-Tart. "That can't be healthy," he muttered.
A resounding belch from Race was his only answer.
The traffic on the highway thinned out as they drove, and soon Davey relaxed. He took a sip of coffee from the thermos that he'd brought along (anticipating that it would be a two-cups-of-coffee kind of morning), and immediately felt more alert and at ease.
"You want dibs on the radio?" he asked Race. "Or, if you need, there's an adapter for your phone in the glove compartment."
Race eagerly popped open the storage space and plugged in his phone. "Ain't a road trip without a little music."
The sound of John Travolta's voice came over the stereo.
"Why, this car is automatic. It's systematic. It's hyyyydromatic. Why, it's greased lightnin'!"
Davey winced as the upbeat Rock n' Roll song began playing. He'd forgotten that Race had been a theater major and was obsessed with musicals.
Race was already singing along and bobbing his head in time to the music, when he noticed that his traveling partner wasn't joining in. "What's a matter, Dave?" he asked. "Don't ya know this one? It's a classic!"
"I don't, actually," Davey replied. Race gave him an incredulous stare, and he felt compelled to elaborate. "Musicals aren't really my thing...I mean, I saw Wicked once, but that was it."
"Well ain't you the hoi polloi." Race sighed tragically, then patted Davey on the shoulder. "Don't worry, pal. I'll getcha educated by the time this trip is over."
"Can't wait," Davey answered through gritted teeth. He was already regretting his choice to give Race command of the stereo. Taking another sip of coffee, he kept his eyes on the road ahead and resigned himself to the role of captive audience.
They stopped in Pennsylvania to stretch their legs, then switched places (Davey surreptitiously brushing the Pop-Tart crumbs off of the passenger seat before getting in). Race was all too eager to assume the driver's side. After adjusting the mirrors to his satisfaction, he started up the van, revving the engine a little.
"It handles a bit sluggishly on the turns," Davey warned. "Just be careful, Race; driving a moving van isn't the same thing as zipping around in your Mazda."
Race waved him off. "Handling this? Come on, it's a cinch; it could practically drive itself!"
"Well let's pray it does," Davey muttered under his breath, not at all sure that Race's brash confidence in his driving abilities was warranted.
They hit the road to the tune of "I Just Can't Wait to Be King," Race bopping up and down to the music and singing all of the parts (since this was yet another musical hit that his uncultured peasant of a traveling partner didn't know). Davey, having depleted his coffee long ago, settled for staring out the window and trying his best not to be too irked.
They noticed the traffic as soon as they hit the highway.
"Hey, what's the hold up?" Race wondered as the moving van joined a slow stream of vehicles inching along at what seemed like a glacial pace.
Davey rolled down the window and poked his head out. "Looks like there's construction ahead," he said, noting several hard hat-clad men on the shoulder of the highway. "We may be stuck here for a while."
"Not if I can help it," Race muttered, his eyes searching the road ahead until they landed on a lane that had been blocked off. "Ah, a short-cut!" The moving van swerved, picking up speed and plowing handily through an entire row of orange cones.
"Is that even legal?" Davey wondered over the screaming of ten angry road workers.
"Well, we gotta make up time somehow, and it ain't gonna happen when you're driving," Race replied, as he sped along the empty lane.
Davey looked affronted. "I drive the speed limit, Race...you know, what safe drivers are supposed to do!"
"But we gotta stay on track, and if you're gonna insist on driving like my grandma, then it's up to me to get us to Santa Fe when we told Jacky we'd be there!" The van slowed down, and Race checked his mirrors before merging easily back into traffic. He noted with satisfaction that they'd bypassed the entire bottleneck, and gave Davey a smug smile. "Ya see? Easy. There's nothing that says you can't take a little shortcut every once in a while."
Davey huffed. "You can't just change the rules whenever you feel like it."
"Kings don't need advice from little hornbills for a start!" Race sang at him, sticking out his tongue.
Davey pinched the bridge of his nose. This road trip was turning out to be more of a character-building exercise than he'd bargained for.
Jack was going to owe him, big time.
The first day of traveling passed by more or less without incident. They made a few more stops along the way to grab a quick lunch and gas up the van, but otherwise kept a steady pace through Pennsylvania and into Ohio, hitting only occasional traffic along the way. Thankfully, Race hadn't done any more off-roading, and Davey had managed to endure nearly a whole day of being constantly bombarded with musical theater songs. He attributed his forbearance to the fact that whenever he drove Les anywhere, his brother always took control of the stereo...and when one was forced to listen to a mix of the latest teen pop hits over and over again, one had only two choices: to grit one's teeth and bear it, or to descend into madness. Davey had chosen the former on multiple occasions, and applied this hard-won proficiency to Race's seemingly endless playlist of Broadway tunes.
By the time the sun went down, however, Davey's head was most definitely spinning.
It was completely dark when they pulled into the parking lot of their hotel, tired, hungry, and relieved to be done with driving for the day. Jack had suggested that each of them take care of booking a hotel for one night, so Davey had offered to take care of the first stop in Dayton. Fortunately, he had saved up his credit card points and was able to cover the cost of the room for himself and Race.
While Race parked the moving van, Davey headed to the lobby to check in. Their room was on the third floor, number twenty-nine - not too far away from the elevator, the receptionist assured him. Davey was seriously contemplating skipping the elevator and taking the stairs instead; it would be a welcome chance to stretch his legs after a long day on the road.
Just as he had finished checking in, Race strolled into the lobby with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and Davey's wheeled suitcase in hand. His eyes lit up as he noticed the plate on the receptionist's counter stacked high with chocolate chip cookies. "We don't haf'ta worry 'bout dinner now, Davey," he crowed, dropping the luggage and grabbing a handful. "This place is amazing!"
"Glad you like it, Race," Davey said absently, shouldering the luggage now that his traveling partner's hands were occupied. He'd been hoping for a real dinner, but he had to admit that he was exhausted from driving (and from the early wake up), and that he'd just as soon buy something from the hotel snack bar for dinner and turn in early. "You ready to head up?"
Race nodded, his mouth too full of cookies to answer.
The room turned out to be larger than they'd expected, with a view of the sleeping city. Race claimed the bed nearer the door, explaining that he intended to get up early the next morning to swim in the hotel pool, so Davey was left with the bed near the window. He set down his luggage and peered out into the darkness, noting that the moon looked especially bright that evening.
He wondered how Jack and Katherine were doing. Were things really cleaner, greener, better in their new hometown? Could Jack's wandering heart, which had sought beauty for so long in the dirty, crowded streets of Manhattan, finally be at rest among the wide open spaces and slower pace of Santa Fe? Davey supposed that he could judge for himself in a few days whether or not the little town out west was all that Jack had painted it to be. But he knew that, no matter how wonderful Santa Fe proved to be, he would never understand the allure that it held for Jack.
As Davey stood thinking, Race was unpacking the few belongings that he would need for the night. He was eager to hit the sack, knowing that the prospect of an early morning swim (and the hotel's free continental breakfast) awaited him in just a few hours. Race set the alarm on his phone, plugged it into its charger, and then promptly flopped down on his bed.
By the time Davey turned away from the window, Race was already sound asleep.
A few hours later…
Jack hadn't been kidding about Davey's sleep talking.
Race, woken from a deep slumber, glanced at the bedside alarm clock and groaned when he saw the time. Great, just great. His fingers fumbled for the earbuds that he'd stashed in the nightstand by his bed, and he managed to get them plugged into his phone. He turned on some white noise, then settled back down, gradually increasing the volume until it was loud enough to cover the sound of Davey's muttering.
He had almost nodded off when his roommate began talking loudly (if unintelligibly), almost as if debating with himself. Race snarled angrily, pulling out the not-quite-effective-enough earbuds. His fingers twitched, aching to grab an extra pillow from the bed and cream Davey with it, but he managed to stop himself. It wouldn't help to take his frustrations out on his traveling partner, and in all fairness, Jack had warned him.
Thankfully, Race had listened.
Throwing off the covers, he stumbled over to his duffel bag and began digging through it until his fingers closed around the zippered case he'd packed earlier that day.
This had better work.
Race made his way back to the bed and climbed in, readjusting the covers over himself. He carefully put in his earbuds. Then he opened the case he'd retrieved and put a pair of headphones over his earbuds. And finally, he laid down to sleep.
It seemed to do the trick. Lulled into a drowsy state by the ambient sound of the white noise, Race drifted off in minutes.
A/N: You may take the conclusion of this chapter as indisputable proof that the author has watched way too many "Behind the Scenes" Newsies videos...and is not sorry at all about it. ;)
Things have been relatively calm so far, but there are still two days of traveling left, and a lot can happen in two days. Thanks for following along, and please let me know what you thought about this last chapter!