Chapter 47

"Yeah, Nick. We should be there in…" Monroe paused and nudged me as I turned my car onto Northeast Prescott Street.

"His house is just four blocks away," I said.

"We're four blocks away," Monroe repeated. "So, we'll be there soon."

I glanced over in Monroe's direction once he ended the call. "Don't you know where he lives?"

"I, umm, I've never been to his house before. I mean, except that one night when we followed him with Juliette's car, but I wasn't really, you know, paying attention to the turns."

"He's your best friend, and he's never had you over?"

"Umm, we're not that kind of friends… apparently," he mumbled, adjusting his seat belt.

"Well, I've never been invited, either," I said with a small grin as I braked at the red light. "I just like to burst in, unannounced."

"Hey, at least you've been inside. I'm just the guy he sneaks off to go see." Monroe paused. "Okay, that didn't sound the way I meant it."

"Sure, sure." I turned and gave him a smirk. "You're just the piece Nick keeps on the side."

"Dude, don't even go there." Monroe sharply elbowed me. "We're definitely not that kind of friends."

I openly laughed as the light turned green, and I drove forward. "Well, there's the place he keeps secret from you, so his girlfriend never finds out about you two sneaking off together in the night." I pointed to the large, Victorian house on the corner up ahead.

"You know, we go out in the daytime, too."

I smirked again, pulling in front of the house. "Right, because that makes it so much better."

Nick was perched by the front door with a wisp of red hair poking out behind him. He turned to Juliette, gave her a quick kiss, and then walked out, briskly shutting the door before she could follow him out. He walked down the porch steps with his hands full. What the heck was he carrying? Was that a… fishing pole? Once Nick was closer, I confirmed my guess. He had a tackle box in his other hand along with a backpack and a sleeping bag on his shoulders.

I rolled down the window. "Are we catching our lunch, or do you just always come prepared?"

"Keep it down," Nick hissed like he expected Juliette to pop out of the bushes. "I said we were going camping and fishing, so just open the trunk."

"Sure." I pushed the trunk button and Nick tossed in his gear.

I waited to speak again until I had my window up and Nick was settled in the back seat. "So, that was your lame excuse? Camping and fishing?"

"It was the only logical thing I could say that would require me to be out overnight."

"He does have a point," added Monroe, "although, if you really wanted to pull it off, you should've worn your fishing vest. Anyone who goes fishing wears the vest."

I turned to Monroe. "You told me you aren't good at fishing."

"I might not be good at it, but I know what you should wear."

"I don't have a vest," Nick chimed in.

"Dude, then where do you put the…?"

"I just don't have one, Monroe," he snapped back.

"Okay, man." Monroe shook his head. "But you must not be all that great at fishing either if you don't own a vest."

"So, Juliette bought that you just had an impromptu camping trip just spring up out of nowhere?" I asked.

"Well, she did ask about that," Nick replied. "I told her I'd forgotten all about it, but it had been planned a few weeks ago. That she bought, since I'd forgotten about a fishing trip once before a couple of years ago."

"Do you need to make up any stories for anyone else?" I asked.

"No, I've talked to everyone who needs to know."

"Good, then let's get going."

"Nice house, by the way," said Monroe as I pulled out of Nick's driveway. "Since this is the first time I'm actually getting to see it in the daylight and all."

Nick scoffed. "Right, because I should just invite you over for a football game sometime."

"That might be nice. That is if you even knew what team I like to watch."

"I know." I raised my hand. "Can I answer?"

Monroe reached for my hand, pulling it down. "Of course you know. You actually care about my interests." He turned back toward Nick. "And I like soccer more than football. Okay, well, sometimes, depending on the season."

"Next time you have me over for dinner, I'll be sure to have a questionnaire ready to learn all your favorites, Monroe," Nick sarcastically offered.

Monroe sighed. "You don't have to be rude about it."

"I can scratch favorite color off the list," Nick replied. "That one was already covered."

"I know that one, too," I said while grinning wider than I'd meant to.

Monroe squeezed my thigh. "Yes, you do." He turned back to Nick again. "But, you know, if someone cared enough to ask me about something other than Wesen all the time, then maybe that someone would know more than just that one little tidbit about me, you know?"

I shook my head and changed my MP3 player to 'Born to be Wild,' turning up the volume to end their banter.

"Get your motor runnin'.
Head out on the highway.
Lookin' for adventure,
And whatever comes our way…"

I sang along to the intro as I took the ramp to the Freemont Bridge.

Monroe gave me a look, and I turned the volume down slightly.

"What?"

"Born to be Wild?"

"Not every song has an underlying meaning about you." I gave him a wink.

"Umm, are we going to listen to music the whole drive?" Nick asked reluctantly. I caught Monroe already giving Nick a nod and a slight eye roll.

"I like music, so probably for most of it," I replied in an even tone. "Is that a problem?"

"I was hoping we could discuss some things along the drive."

"Wesen, no doubt," Monroe muttered.

"We have six hours," I said, "so I'm sure we'll find time to talk in between."

"Can I at least have a say in the song choice?" Nick asked.

I smiled at him through my rearview mirror. "Driver picks the music, but if you're good I'll take requests."

"I have a request," said Nick. "How about 'The Sound of Silence'?"

"Hmm, I didn't take you for a Simon and Garfunkel fan, Nick," I curtly replied.

"I'm not."

"Okay." I turned down the music. "So let's talk. Wanna fill us in about La Bella's recovery yesterday? I'm all ears."

"Yeah, man," said Monroe. "So, what happened with that one?"

Nick's reflection shifted uncomfortably. "I can't talk about cases, Renée. You know that."

"Oh, come on, Nick," I groaned. "I'm a little invested in this one."

Nick gave vague details of locating a warehouse after Johnna Smallwood had confessed that she and the other Bookends were all Waschbars and had assisted Lydia in all three heists. The masterminds behind the operation were nowhere to be found, and the stolen items had vanished, except for La Bella. So someone still had the Japanese artifacts and Captain Debonair's painting. At least Italy wouldn't hate Portland anymore. Japan was probably still pissed.

"I still don't understand the lyrics Lydia told me."

Nick shrugged in my rearview. "If she wanted us to know something, then she should've just told us."

I shook my head. "I think she's afraid, and it has something to do with law enforcement."

"We may never know," Nick replied.

"Well, if it has to do with Royal families, then being in the dark might be a good thing," Monroe commented.

I didn't like being in the dark about anything. Shaking my head again, I turned the volume of my stereo back up.

"Back to music already?" Nick moaned.

"It gets my motor running," I grinned.

Monroe angled his head to look back at Nick. "Dude, I'll haggle us out a reprieve, so we don't go crazy." He turned his head toward me and gave me a wink.

I attempted to scowl, but his eyes flashed red as he raised his eyebrows, and I bit my lip instead. Yeah, he had ways he could haggle. He could get my motor running better than music.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

"You know, I-5 is the only interstate that runs from Canada to Mexico… or Mexico to Canada, you know, depending on which way you wanna look at it," Monroe said as we drove along toward Salem.

"No, wasn't aware of that one either, Monroe," said Nick as he crossed his arms. Monroe had been recounting facts throughout the drive. Between my music and Monroe's trivia, Nick looked like he was rethinking coming with us.

I simply smiled. "What can you tell us about Salem?"

"Oh, there's some interesting history about…"

"Hey, can we make a pit stop somewhere," Nick interjected. "Just a gas station is fine. I need more than homemade trail mix on this trip." He leaned in between the front seats. "No offense," he added. "'Cause this stuff is delicious." He forced a smile, holding up the bag.

I really hated stopping, but I relented. Monroe and I sat and waited while the Grimm went into the Stop N' Go in Woodburn. After fifteen minutes, we decided to go in and find out what was taking him so long. Inside, Nick was moving through the aisles with his arms loaded with snack food. I took the opportunity to briefly freshen up and then went back out to the Malibu, grabbing a few bottles of water from the cooler in the trunk. Nick didn't know the meaning of stop and go. This was taking forever. We were stopping longer than we were going.

Monroe came back out shortly after and settled back in the car. "I have a suspicion he's going to want to make more pit stops," he said while adjusting the visor.

"It's fine." I gritted my teeth and smiled, passing Monroe a cold bottle. "We left before noon for a reason, but it's fine."

Nick finally returned with a brown paper bag full of who knew what. "Okay, I should be good for a while," he said as he closed the car door. I didn't believe that for a minute.

Turning on my MP3 player, I hummed along with Joan Jett's 'Roadrunner' while merging back on the interstate. Wrappers of road trip food were ripped behind me.

Monroe's nose twitched, and he made a sour face. "Pork rinds? Really? That's just brutal, man. There's like dozens of other snacks you could've picked."

"I like pork rinds," Nick replied between crunches. "I didn't think it would bother you."

"Yeah, well, you could've asked." Monroe scoffed, folding his arms tightly.

I gingerly rubbed his arm, rolling down the window a crack as the Grimm munched in my back seat. Hopefully fanning out the smell would help.

"I got you some peanut M&M's." Nick held the bag out toward Monroe, shaking it slightly as it rattled in his hand.

"Thanks, I suppose," he muttered and took the bag. A small grin formed on his lips at the gesture.

I laughed. "You two sound like an old, married couple."

"Oh man, that's not even funny," Monroe practically barked as he turned to me.

"If you and I sound half as cute, then I think we might have something great."

Monroe shook his head. "Dude, you're just not right."

"What's wrong, Monroe?" Nick chimed in from the back seat. "Am I not good enough for ya?"

Monroe glared back at Nick. "Now don't you even start."

"I won't compete with Renée, though." Nick grinned as I watched him from my rearview. "Besides, I prefer redheads."

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

Four more stops and three hours later, we'd only made it to Eugene, which we should've passed an hour ago. My organized mind was in a frenzy with being off schedule like this. I had to make up for lost time. My speed crept up as I chose 'Life in the Fast Lane' from my playlist.

"How fast are you going?" Nick asked with a serious tone.

"Uh, I'm keeping up with traffic," was my reply. I was already watching behind me for cops, so I didn't need the one in my back seat calling me out on my lead foot.

"It's seventy miles per hour on the interstate," Nick informed me. I was doing over eighty.

"Sorry, officer," I said with a hint of sarcasm, switching the song to Judas Priest's 'Breakin' the Law' in defiance.

"Nick's right. You oughta slow down, Hun," Monroe advised as he looked up from his book. "Getting pulled over won't get us there any faster."

"Just playing some catch-up," I reasoned, letting off the gas slightly.

Monroe patted my hand. He knew my schedule was off. "We'll get there, and it'll be okay," he assured me.

"Slowly but surely," I replied, changing the music to Foghat's 'Slow Ride,' since that's how it seemed the rest of the journey was going to be. As I looked in my rearview, Nick was mouthing the song lyrics with a toothy grin. I held back a scowl.

A/N: Just a bit of road trip fun. More to come!