Yay for another chapter!
Thank you so much for your faithful reviews, Natureliesbeneath - you could not be more encouraging, and I'm already looking forward to hearing what you think as everything continues to develop. :) And no vegetables yet (lol), but hopefully soon!
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
"You do not deviate from the route. And you are only seen if I text you saying that we need a diversion. Otherwise, you're a ghost." Brand pointed at Jughead solemnly. "Do not make me regret going along with this scheme of yours."
Jughead was wearing one of Archie's costumes; it was matte black, so that he'd be as inconspicuous as possible – unless he wanted to be seen.
It was also one of Alice's more distinct creations, albeit not intended to be paired with a black baseball cap, so if Jughead did allow himself to be seen, there would be excellent odds that he would be mistaken for Archie.
Jughead was about to follow the very particular path that Brand had laid out for him to get through the venue, and if he received an SOS text from Brand he would allow himself to be 'spotted' by the crowd – and then either get out of the building or go to ground in a secure hiding place until Brand could extract him safely.
And if anything went really wrong, Jughead could just reveal his identity and the crowd would be disappointed… but most likely not a danger to themselves or to Jughead.
The plan was simple. Jughead was confident about it.
However, almost as soon as he took off down the hallway, Jughead felt his chest tighten. Despite his confidence only moments earlier, a host of ways that things could go wrong began running through Jughead's mind as he made a hard left and began wending his way to the backstage area, so that he could get a look at the current situation.
The venue's own security had been working hard to get the audience to move along, assuring the rowdy fans that there would be no further encore, fight, grand declaration, or anything else worth sticking around to witness.
Damian's livestream had been working against them, though, and the last Jughead had heard, the livestream (and widespread hope of witnessing more drama) had been winning the battle.
Maybe, Jughead thought, he wouldn't need to follow through with the plan they'd discussed. Within the concert hall itself, after all, using the 3-D AI programming was an option.
Jughead wasn't sure he'd be able to fire it up, let alone do anything meaningful or coherent with the software, but the more he thought about it, the more obviously it beat any plan involving inserting himself physically into the melee of overexcited concert-goers.
In fact, it might even work if Jughead could simply get outside and post as Archie on social media, making it clear with the GPS function that he'd left the venue. Damian Pin was definitely monitoring Archie's online activity, and the concert crowd was taking their cues Damian; that might resolve everything quickly and easily.
Once the fans had moved on, Archie would be able to simply walk out of the building.
Jughead stopped short when he reached the cavernous hall and saw the concert seats. They were emptying quickly, and in a surprisingly orderly fashion.
Of all the scenarios they'd considered in their brief strategy session, this one had somehow failed to occur to anyone: the venue's scant, underpaid in-house security team had been successful.
Jughead sighed deeply, his eyes closing involuntarily as relief rushed through him from head to toe.
And then he was grabbed from behind.
A hand slapped over Jughead's mouth before he could yell, and he twisted his body in protest as he was dragged backward away from the concert hall.
When the attacker did not release him immediately, Jughead reacted with swift violence, his training taking over – but just before his elbow made contact, he froze.
If he lashed out and seriously injured – maybe even hospitalized – some fan who had gotten whipped into a psychotic frenzy, what would that do to Archie and the tour?
Before Jughead could make a decision, the large figure hauling him backward released him, dropping the teen heavily onto his feet and then shoving his shoulder aggressively but not painfully.
"Why aren't you trying to kill me?" Jughead's assailant inexplicably demanded. "You should be trying to take a few years off of my life, Cyrano. How are you working security if you don't even know the basics of self defense?"
"Dax?" Jughead's jaw dropped as he whirled to face the larger man. "What the hell?"
"With you dressed like that I didn't want to take a chance on the crowd seeing you and thinking it was Andrews. They only just started leaving and we'd never convince them to go after that." Dax looked Jughead over worriedly. "Wait… don't tell me this was the plan."
"This was the backup plan. Now defunct." Jughead motioned toward the emptying venue. "Since venue security apparently got it all smoothed over."
There was a long silence, in which Jughead realized that Dax was far from satisfied, even though the situation was back under control.
"Brandon Davies is a menace." Dax finally managed, through gritted teeth. "How he justified this, I will never understa-,"
FP rounded the corner at a run, stopping short as he took in Jughead's appearance. "What in the name of all that is holy are you doing wearing that?"
Jughead tensed. If there was any situation that could blow their cover, this was probably–
"Was this your idea?" FP turned on Dax.
"No. No way. I am as horrified as you are," Dax said, raising his hands as if to demonstrate that he'd had nothing to do with the plan.
"So, what, Davies thought that he'd just-," FP's eyes were wide with incredulity.
"Wait! No. It was all my idea. In case Archie needed a distraction, because-," Jughead attempted to cut his father off before he said too much, even though he fully realized it was likely a lost cause.
"Because… let me guess… you're feeling left out? You haven't been at ground zero of enough emergencies yet?" FP's tone went dangerously low and if Jughead didn't know better he'd have thought he heard the specific growl that came into his father's voice when he had been drinking.
Maybe his dad was that good an actor. Or maybe he'd been driven to drink by the accumulation of so much trouble. Jughead studied his father worriedly.
And then another figure moved, so far down the hallway that she was almost invisible – and it was a minor miracle that her identity was apparent from just that brief glimpse.
Jughead's eyes widened.
And then, aggressive to the point of violence, FP stuck a finger in Jughead's face and began issuing orders.
Jughead jerked backward, his eyes flying up to his father's angry expression. Either FP was completely apopleptic or he was trying to keep Dax from noticing - to keep Jughead from telegraphing - what the teen had just spotted.
"Change out of this getup. Go to the hotel." FP bit out the words harshly. "Do not leave Dax's side until you are past security and on a secured floor inside the hotel. Nobody needs to get another report like the one I got today. Particularly not your mother."
FP's eyes blazed with anger – and, Jughead realized with a sick feeling, his anger was mixed with fear.
Maybe it wasn't alcohol making FP's voice rough… maybe he'd really scared his dad.
Jughead clamped his mouth shut and dropped his eyes. He nodded once and then looked up at Dax. "Uh, am I still going to work with you? Now that-,"
"Yeah. Nothing has changed." Dax looked from FP to Jughead and back again, his expression tense. "And based on what I'm seeing, I think you'd better come with us tonight. Tomorrow I plan to reopen discussions about where you'll be spending the rest of the tour."
FP looked perturbed by Dax's words, but he did not raise any objections.
Possibly because he was distracted by the fact that SAC Wilson was waiting for him, just around the corner.
"We'll see. For the time being, you have your orders. Get moving. Now." This time, FP's orders were directed at Dax as well.
Dax didn't need any encouragement.
Jughead found himself being towed away from his dad, but he managed to get enough leverage to steer the head of security away from SAC Wilson's hiding place.
A few paces later, Dax dropped his grip on Jughead and pulled out his cell. Only after the man was absorbed in checking his phone did Jughead sneak a look at his own phone.
A message had come in just seconds before, from Brand: 'Sorry kid. I couldn't risk it.'
Jughead blinked. He responded with '?'
They turned down another hallway and spotted a bench. Dax stopped texting just long enough to motion for Jughead to take a seat and remove the costume. Jughead pulled it off, revealing the street clothing he had on underneath. It would be a chilly walk back to the hotel, but hopefully an uneventful one.
They resumed their trek to the hotel, Dax still typing away like he was solving world hunger, and Jughead felt his phone buzz as another text arrived.
'You had that look in your eye. I needed you safe so I could deal with Andrews. Did Dax or Penn get to you first?'
Jughead glared at the phone.
He'd been set up.
'Either way,' Brand texted again, 'stick close. Once you're back at the hotel, you're spending the night with Dax's team.'
Huh. That was an awfully quick turnaround on the subject.
Another text came in:
'Sarah reports at least two Serpents outside the venue this evening.'
Oh.
Jughead felt like a whole row of dominoes was tumbling in his head.
The possibilities hit him in sequence: it might be a coincidence.
They might have come for a friendly visit with his dad.
They might have come to try and hurt Brand.
Or they might have come after Jughead because of the information he'd turned over to the authorities that had led to the raids in the Southside.
Sarah's report must have been the text that had persuaded Brand to pretend to go along with Jughead's plan – in order to get him clear of whatever was coming. And his dad was with SAC Wilson.
In moments, with just a few swift orders, Brand had responded instantly to the threat and created a sophisticated shell game.
He'd not only given the Southsiders three moving targets; he'd also ensured that, no matter which one of the wolf pack was the focus of the Serpents' visit to the city, not one of them would be caught alone.
Moreover, Jughead would bet money that none of the wolf pack would be sleeping where they were expected to sleep tonight.
"I cannot believe I advised Breaking Fast not to fire Davies," Dax muttered darkly. "He's not just incompetent; he's got a death wish."
Jughead had to hide a sympathetic smile; Dax had no idea who he was up against.
00000
"This is messed up." Archie crossed his arms.
"Yup." Brand shrugged. He didn't even have the decency to look worried.
"You don't even care that he was in the hospital, like, hours ago?" Archie's eyes narrowed. He hated that his voice hit a pitch that made him sound less than reasonable, but come on - this was ridiculous.
"You don't seem to care that he's willing to get crushed by your mob for you," Brand countered calmly. He met Archie's furious gaze without changing expression. "Now come on, we need to get to Quinn and get out of here."
"Don't we need to wait for-,"
"No." Brand didn't let Archie finish his sentence. "We're going out the back door as soon as she's here."
"That's not what you just told Jughead."
"That is correct."
Brand and Archie stared each other down for a few moments.
Archie spoke first: "Why am I not surprised that you're making things up as you go along? Not that all of this is completely your issue. He just... he always wants to-," Archie felt his blood pressure increase as he thought about Jughead once again trying to play hero and get in the middle of what was already a mess.
"Don't." Brand cut Archie off sharply. "Do not complain to me about Jones. Not while I'm saving your sorry butt. You have questions about my ability to get us out of here safely, we can talk. Anything else, zip it."
Archie glared but didn't say anything more.
"Alrighty, then. Let's go." Brand motioned for Archie to follow him and they set out in the opposite direction from the hallway where Jughead had disappeared.
It was particularly galling to Archie when everything went exactly as Brand had predicted: they were back in the hotel in under fifteen minutes, and by then they had received word that Jughead and everyone else had also made it.
Archie was left with an uncomfortable feeling about everything that had transpired; he was clearly not being told everything, but even so, something about his own reactions felt wrong.
Long after Gunnar had fallen asleep, Archie paced in their shared hotel room, trying to puzzle it out.
Maybe he needed to trust the wolf pack more. Maybe he needed to cut Jug some more slack about whatever he was trying to do with Archie's dad - trust that Jughead meant well, and trust that his dad was going to get better and get back to normal.
But it was kinda hard to trust anyone with so much lying going on.
Archie sighed heavily as he continued to pace. It was getting far too late for this, but he was completely unable to sleep; eventually he gave up and wandered out to the main room of the band's suite.
And then he heard his mother. She was speaking in a low voice, and must have thought the balcony would afford her more privacy than it did.
Great: more secrets. More lies. Who knew what else might be happening with his dad or with the tour, or maybe even with something else entirely.
Archie hesitated, but only for a moment. He crept into position to listen.
He probably did need to learn to trust; Archie silently resolved to work on that.
He would get right on that, just as soon as everyone stopped hiding things from him.
00000
Jughead angled his phone for privacy in the dark room and finally, finally managed to hit send.
The article was away; it was on time.
"So. Penn doesn't like you much," Dax observed casually from across the dark hotel room. Lights out did not apparently mean that silence was enforced.
They weren't sharing a bed, but as it turned out there had not been an extra room available for Jughead. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly; he'd finally managed to get it all to work, and everything was fine. The story had turned out great, and he had two days to polish up the next one.
He could breathe again.
"He, uh, likes my mother," Jughead said as neutrally as he could manage. Hopefully that was vague enough that Dax could reach whatever conclusion he preferred and drop the subject. There were far too many complicated lies circulating already.
"Ah. Is that a fact?" Dax's tone was suddenly a little too neutral as well.
Jughead frowned, the sharp spike of panic feeling far too familiar: was their cover compromised? He aimed for belligerence with his response: "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well." Dax made a face. "I'm sure it's all… legal. But I saw Penn give a very young lady a note earlier this evening, and she held onto it pretty tightly all night. She must have read it a dozen times."
Jughead swallowed the grin that threatened to compromise their cover more than anything that he'd said and done so far. Not trusting his voice, he remained silent.
"It's probably not what it looked like," Dax said slowly, "but Penn doesn't strike me as the type to play errand boy for someone else."
The reply to that was easy enough: "He's not."
"Mmm." Dax was noncommittal. "It's none of my business. I just thought you should know what I saw."
"Thanks." Jughead could at least say that much with complete sincerity.
"You talked to your mother yet?" Dax asked, concern flooding his voice. "I gave her an earful about the bomb threat and that insane reporter, but I can talk to her again about anything you need some backup on. She could probably even shut this whole tour down if you asked her to."
Jughead suddenly wondered what he'd have done had he met Dax – if he'd had this friendship develop with the man – when he'd been living in hiding in Toronto with Brand.
He might have had a chance of fighting back sooner. There might have been real options for defending himself and getting out of the situation before it had gone so far downhill that he'd been tortured and almost murdered.
Jughead took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling a crushing emotion that he could not identify. It felt like everything, all at once.
Not unlike the experience this tour was turning out to be.
"Cyrano?" Dax's voice had dropped to a near-whisper, as though he wasn't sure if Jughead had fallen asleep.
"I'm meeting with her tomorrow. And, uh…" Jughead needed to turn Dax's offer down for the sake of their cover story, but something deep and primal made him hold back from completely closing that door, "I'll let you know. Thanks. For… uh, everything."
Dax grunted. He sounded displeased, and Jughead cringed; something he'd said must have upset the older man.
"No thanks necessary." Dax's voice was rough. "I don't like seeing the good guys get knocked around. Not by a con artist like Davies, and certainly not by a thug like Penn."
Jughead's eyes went wide at the venom and dark sincerity in Dax's voice.
"You can rest easy. You've got backup now. I've been touring with this band for a while, so I know all the pressure points." Dax's tone had softened, but then it turned to steel once more: "Firing 'em may not be possible, but this tour won't last forever. Those two are going to have to pick on someone their own size for a change."
Dax rolled over, effectively ending the conversation.
'Someone their own size,' he'd said.
The phrase made Jughead think of Brand's plan to hide Jughead safely away from the unidentified Serpents. That in turn brought to mind Archie's accusations.
Man, Archie was going to be livid if – or rather when – he found out how much of tonight had been orchestrated for the security of someone other than the band.
Grimacing, Jughead rolled over and closed his eyes. Losing more sleep would not enhance anything.
And then his phone buzzed as it lit up with another text.
Darn Brand – and FP, for that matter – and their ability to survive on almost no sleep.
Only Jughead caught a flash of something unfamiliar in the notification.
Huh. It was from Kiara.
'Watch your back.'
Well, it was official: now he would have no trouble sleeping. No trouble at all.
00000
"What would it take?"
Jughead realized that somehow he must have drowsed off after all. He was being pulled from sleep by the sound of someone speaking quietly. It must be Dax, on his phone.
"I realize that. But you need to know your limits, and you need to delineate them clearly – preferably before you're in the middle of a situation. And just because the embedded journalist hasn't written a slam piece yet doesn't mean it isn't coming. I'm still waiting on the next article before I call that a done deal."
Jughead frowned at the urgency in Dax's tone and the strange words. Maybe this was the breakthrough that their case needed.
"Huh. You were a lot more worried about the journalist before. Do I need to remind you of what has already happened on this tour? And remember last time we canceled a tour date; you were fully insured and the band didn't lose a dime."
There was an extended silence that Jughead took to mean that the person on the other end did not need a reminder.
"Burnt out the curse?" Dax sputtered the words. "You think that all of these disasters mean you're just… done with trouble for the rest of the tour? Not that, you know, something's very wrong and just as likely to get worse? Or about to become very, very public?"
Honestly, Jughead agreed with Dax's sentiment: even though he knew that he was not going to write a slam piece, and that tomorrow's article was overwhelmingly positive despite its theme of critiquing some of the obvious costs of fame and publicity, the idea that all of the disasters so far meant there were no more to come sounded pretty crazy to him as well.
"That's not how the news cycle works. You can't just bank a certain amount of good press and then forget about it."
Alas, that was all too true, Jughead silently agreed once again.
"What? You think the curse is getting confused with the roadies' inane 'work to rule' drama? Look, whatever it was Kent did, you can't separate it. The cursed kid from the new security team was right there."
The 'cursed kid'? Jughead felt chilled; Dax had never given any indication before that he believed in the curse - and his phrasing was so impersonal that it made it sound like they'd never even met each other.
"Well, what if something happened outside of the venue, then, far away from the road crew?" Dax sounded exasperated. "Would that convince you to pull the plug–,"
The other person must have interrupted.
"Okay, let me be sure I have this straight," Dax ground out angrily. "In order to cancel the rest of the tour, which is an action that involves no financial loss whatsoever, there would have to be another – bigger – incident that couldn't be ignored by the press. It would have to clearly be the curse and not involve any of this lazy excuse for a road crew, and be life-threatening beyond any shadow of a doubt. None of that, you know, near-death experience stuff. Maybe you really want to see a coma. Limbs blown away. That sort of thing."
Jughead wanted to sit up in horror and make some kind of a protest, but the sharp sarcasm in Dax's voice made him hope that this was just an angry rant and not some kind of prediction that was grounded in reality.
Because this wasn't exactly some vague hypothetical: Jughead was the cursed one. They were discussing him losing a limb or winding up in a coma.
This tour was no joke.
"Uh-huh. Well, if that's what you've decided is your limit, then I guess we'll just carry on until that happens. Or the tour ends. Whichever comes first." Dax sounded abruptly resigned and tired.
Which made sense; it was the middle of the night and the conversation made Jughead wonder how much Dax got paid and whether it was worth all the trouble of acting as head of security for the band. It sounded like an awful lot.
"Yeah. The show must go on. I got it, loud and clear." Dax's phone emitted a quiet beep as he ended the call. There was a long, frustrated sigh in the dark room.
Jughead's brow furrowed. Maybe he needed to talk to Brand himself tomorrow about what it would actually take to cancel the tour.
Because Dax was making sense. And Jughead liked all of his limbs firmly attached.
00000
"A teambuilding exercise?" Kiara looked murderous over her scrambled eggs.
"We're going to hit the gym tomorrow morning. Together." Dax nodded firmly. "We need to blow off some steam. We've also got a new quasi-official member that everyone needs a chance to get to know. I looked up a gym within a block of the next hotel; they've got a pool and a climbing wall."
Jughead looked up with interest from the bagel he was scarfing down in the breakfast area. Brand was shooting him looks, so he'd probably need to make another pass through the meager offerings at this hotel's breakfast area before his godfather was satisfied. And somehow, some way, Jughead would need to find a way to get Brand on that climbing wall. They'd been talking about doing that for ages, and this would be a perfect opportunity.
"That sounds good to me," Jughead offered. The others murmured their assent, and one patted a hand reassuringly on Kiara's head, teasingly emphasizing their height difference.
Kiara glared fiercely for a moment, but then she smiled reluctantly and shrugged. "Yeah, okay. I mean, climbing definitely wouldn't be the worst teambuilding exercise I've suffered through."
"Well, with that ringing endorsement…" Dax laughed and began clearing his own dishes. "Move it along; I want us on the road in thirty minutes, and some of you either haven't showered yet or else you neglected some vital parts of your beauty routine."
Jughead hid a grin when one guy shoved another's shoulder playfully and the two started tussling.
There was a lot about the security team that felt eerily familiar, even though Jughead was still learning their names.
"You want to tell Davies I'm planning to hang onto you for another day and a night? Or should I?" Dax addressed Jughead, his features softened by concern. "I'm happy to interface with him, but if you're going to keep working with us, it needs to be your decision."
"Stick with Dax. He'll make it worth your while." Jake, the one who needed to shower, offered. "And the way things are going, we need as much manpower as we can muster."
"We-ell, it's not like the other team is completely useless," Ben said hesitantly. He was watching Dax closely as he spoke, his expression guarded. "It's up to the kid. Do you want to roll with us, Cyrano? Or…"
Jughead cocked his head and cautiously returned Ben's smile, waiting for the man to finish his thought.
"...do you want to spend your time getting kicked around like you're the living manifestation of everything that's gone wrong in two grown men's lives?"
Jughead blinked and his smile dropped as he absorbed the harsh words Ben delivered in a discordantly bright tone. "Uh…"
"Hey. Nobody's got any patience for Davies or Penn at this point, Ben, but that's still a bit much." Dax frowned deeply, but then he turned to face Jughead seriously. "Just so we're clear, though, Ben is right about one thing. We're not a crew that takes that kind of behavior lightly."
"Oh. Well, that's…" Jughead felt the strange internal tension again: their cover was working. This was exactly what the wolf pack had hoped people would believe. But it was also disorienting – and surprisingly comforting – to hear these reactions.
For a second time, Jughead wondered how things might have played out over the past year if he'd had a group of friends like this at his back.
If all of the adults in his life had been forced to pick on someone their own size.
"In that case... I'm sold; I'll work with you. And, uh, I can talk to Brand." Jughead managed a smile.
"Nah, on second thought, never mind. Go get some more breakfast, then meet me upstairs. I'll handle Davies." Dax cut Jughead off before he could finish his sentence, and the smile he gave the teenager was understanding and surprisingly gentle. "I'm starting to get the sense that you eat a lot more than you look like you should."
Jughead bit his lip and then nodded once. "It's a disease."
"What, you got worms?" Jake asked with a hearty laugh. "I guess I could put it away at that age too. And we'll keep you burning calories, make no mistake. We'll just have the advantage of a velvet glove to go with the iron fist."
"Stop scaring him," Ben said, his eyes trained on Jughead with his disconcerting blend of smiling affability and laser-focused intensity. "He's had enough of that. For a lifetime, if I had to guess."
And Jughead found himself cautiously offering Ben another smile. "Um. Yeah. You could say that. Maybe two lifetimes."
Kiara cocked her head and stared at him then, and something in her expression brought to mind her cryptic text from the night before. "Well, then, stick close. I owe you one."
Jughead shook his head quickly in disagreement; he hadn't done much when it came to the shooter. He'd just sort of taken charge for a few moments when the shooting had broken out.
"Pro tip: don't contradict Kiara. She doesn't take that very well." Dax's grin seemed to sour Kiara's expression, but she still nodded in agreement.
"I really don't," Kiara confirmed.
"Okay, then, I officially take it back." Jughead held up his hands in surrender, grinning when Kiara laughed.
When the security team headed upstairs, joking and laughing together, Jughead broke away from the group and returned to the slim array of breakfast options.
Jughead saw Brand trying to catch his eye again; he gave his godfather a subtle nod.
Things were just fine. They would need to debrief soon about whatever was going on with the late night phone call, and Jughead still wanted to discuss ending the tour early, but in the light of day it seemed like this was just a great team that worked hard and were well bonded.
And for whatever reason they wanted Jughead to be a part of that.
It was like exploring a whole other life. Here he was, making his way entirely on his own merits.
That felt good enough that it made Jughead hope that they didn't need to end the tour early; he was curious about where this all might go.
Just then his phone buzzed.
It was a text from Archie. 'People are discussing trying to shut down the tour. I heard my mom talking about it. I've got a plan. If you want to actually have my back on something, this is it.'
Huh. If he wanted to actually have Archie's back? Jughead bristled, but he also couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for his best friend – who had been fighting to make this tour the best one possible, and doing so pretty much around the clock.
They needed to clear the air between them, but now was not the time.
'I'll do whatever I can,' Jughead texted back. 'I promise.'
There was a long pause before Archie texted again. Jughead was sitting down with another two bagels and some sketchy-looking but actually delicious sausage gravy by the time his phone buzzed.
'Good.'
Jughead stared at the single word, willing it to be true – and that things between them were actually good.
00000
"This is no longer productive and there are too many players and too little information to go on. I think it's time to talk to Breaking Fast about cancelling the remainder of the tour," SAC Wilson's disembodied voice said firmly over the secure line from her floor of the hotel. "Are we all agreed?"
Hesitant looks flew around the room.
"Uh, why don't we call you back with a final answer," Sarah answered. "Give us ten minutes."
"Take as long as you need. This is a big decision and we need to be completely sure of our move," Wilson said. "If we pull the trigger, this is going to make a lot of people unhappy."
"Understood. We'll call you back soon." Sarah disconnected the call.
Sarah, FP, and Brand eyed each other, frowning.
"Well, I'll bite. Tom's already discussing pulling Kevin; he's with Mary right now. Nobody's ID'ed the Serpents who were seen outside the venue, so that could be anyone," FP said wearily. "I will not play games with Jughead's safety. Or with Brandon's. I vote we kill the tour now, before anyone else gets hurt."
"Wow. Thanks for thinking of me, old man." Brand smiled, but it was tight. "I agree; we cancel the rest of the tour and sort things out from somewhere other than the maw of the beast. Getting him out of Riverdale was a good plan. Taking him on this tour was apparently a spectacularly bad way of doing it."
FP snorted, nodding in fervent agreement.
"The Andrews kid is not in a good place after last night," Brand continued, "so my one request is that I get to be the messenger. I doubt either of you will take the same deep, sick pleasure in delivering the news to Andrews that reality can bite him too, sometimes, and doesn't just take chunks out of Jones."
"Brandon, you cannot say that to Red," FP snapped.
"Obviously," Brand drawled, offended. "I'm not trying to make life any more difficult for Jones. But I really didn't like the way Andrews treated him when the kid was literally offering to risk his own neck in exchange for his best friend's hide."
Sarah massaged her eyes. "Please don't start a fight with a teenager. Just tell him that we let the tour go on for longer than we should have."
"Wait, so you agree?" Brand was surprised.
"Yes. Dax wants the tour shut down. Yesterday. And he knows better than any of us how the other band is taking all of this; they're pushing for a quick exit too."
"What? No. They don't want to end the tour early," Brand objected quickly. "Dax said that they did?"
"Not in so many words. But-," Sarah frowned, cutting herself off. "Actually, yes, in so many words. Dax said that Breaking Fast had to cancel another concert on a previous occasion, and that they feel similarly now."
"That is complete and utter BS. So, Dax is spinning a story? Huh." Brand was suddenly glowering and he met Sarah's skeptical expression without blinking. "Seriously. I'd bet double my meager paycheck from this tour on that not being what the band will tell you if you ask them directly."
"Or maybe the band doesn't want to make that public information, so they're putting on a brave face with you and letting their security team do the dirty work?" Sarah rested her chin in her hand. "They're insured to the hilt. It might not look good if it becomes public that they're pushing to cancel concerts."
"Nah. Not losing money is one thing. But if they perform, they can do a whole lot better than break even," Brand objected.
"No; I'm not saying that they will 'break even' if they cancel. I saw some of the documents, and they are insured. To. The. Hilt." Sarah repeated the words slowly and meaningfully. She looked over at FP, realization dawning in her expression. "Hm. We might have our motive."
"They canceled once before? Collected on insurance that time?" FP asked, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "Can we check the records on that?"
"Oh, man. We should find out if Dax was working with them then, too," Brand added, earning a glare from Sarah. "I am not dropping this. And you know what, get Clark to do it. Isn't he benched anyway?"
"Clark is still the decoy journalist. He has to maintain that cover or else it will be a dead giveaway when he's gone and the stories are still being published," Sarah shook her head and shot him a look. "He's not on vacation."
"But he's still pretending to be a journalist? He can definitely investigate this as part of his cover," Brand said eagerly.
Both FP and Sarah sighed.
"What? I don't trust Dax," Brand said into the silence. "If Clark's not too busy, just ask him, eh?"
"I will ask him," Sarah assented. "But you need to check yourself, Davies. Are you sure you aren't getting distracted from the big picture by a… clash of personalities?"
"Ohhh, I get it. Just turn off my instincts. No problem whatsoever," Brand said, rolling his eyes. "Are we done here, then? We kill this thing where it stands, go home, fortify FP's castle if we're allowed back in-,"
Sarah shook her head subtly, regretfully. FP's shoulders dropped; apparently they would not be returning home just yet, even if the tour was officially ending.
"-or wherever we have to set up shop for the time being. And we will solve this case forensically, far from the screaming mobs," Brand finished. "We will get some actual sleep, and Jones will-,"
There was a sudden buzzing noise.
Both Brand and FP reached for their phones and checked them in tandem. They looked up at each other searchingly, but then they both nodded.
"That's that, then." Brand's expression was tense but determined.
"That was the agreement." FP looked thoughtful and less worried than Brand.
"What?" Sarah asked, looking from one to the other. "What was in the text?"
"We have been… overruled." Brand shrugged.
"The tour is going to be allowed to continue, at least for the time being," FP elaborated. "That was a tiebreaker vote."
"Three of us are in this room," Sarah said in confusion. "If that text was 'a vote,' then that's three against one."
"Nah, it is now one against three and you're the one," Brand said with a rueful smirk. "It's a wolf pack thing; you wouldn't understand."
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Sarah was looking from one to the other in confusion.
FP shook his head. "It's not that complicated, Davies. Jughead found something out."
"He did? What did he find out?" Sarah demanded.
"I have no idea," FP said. "But he wants the tour to continue so he can pursue the lead."
"So… just like that…" Sarah looked from Brand to FP skeptically.
"Yeah. Just like that." Brand's tone was blithe and he smirked. "That's how we roll."
"Let's call Wilson back and let her know." FP motioned to the phone.
Sarah was silent for a few seconds, her expression creasing as she thought this over. "Okay."
"'Okay'?" Brand echoed in surprise. "Just like that?"
"Well," Sarah paused and smirked. "That's how we roll. Right?"
Brand studied Sarah for a few moments and then he smiled. "You are beginning to catch on, Sarah Quinn."
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Yeah, things might be coming to a head very soon. :) I hope you enjoyed! As always, I love reading any and all notes, and just knowing you are reading along. :) I hope you are having a great week!
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