Pop Tart. Kira Coplin
on the faces around us.
‘You’re sure one is enough?’ I joked along.
Reaching into her pocket, Brooke pulled out the green stone, clasping it tight in her fingers. Turning to me, she hummed excitedly, ‘Let’s go!’
‘I don’t think we can…I mean, the bus could be here any minute,’ I hesitated.
‘Good luck, I’ll probably be back to Syracuse by the time it gets here. Repairs take forever,’ Hayley smirked. She reached into her patchwork purse, fishing out her keys. Turning toward Brooke, who looked on the verge of tears, she moaned loudly. ‘No crying…seriously.’ Nodding her head like a little girl, Brooke threw her arms around her friend without saying a word.
‘I promise to come visit you over the summer when school lets out,’ Hayley continued. ‘Wherever you might be! Okay?’ Brooke, still silent, nodded again. Spinning around, Hayley embraced me in what resembled a sort of bear hug, whispering in my ear, ‘Take good care of her. You seem to be the only sane one here…Calamity Jackie.’ Laughing, she made her way over to the adjacent parking lot before turning around to shout something at us. ‘Ankh! The store’s called Ankh…it’s pretty close by if you guys want to check it out.’
She knew Steve wouldn’t allow it–but Brooke remained adamant about sneaking off to go shopping–and she kept pestering me to go with her. I managed to keep her at bay for a little while and eventually she disappeared back inside the hotel, where a couple of the dancers–led by Jimmy, the one that always looked to me unusually muscular for his frame–had unrolled a mat to play Twister to pass the time. Sitting on a bench near the main entrance, I watched as Jimmy contorted his body in a painful position as he reached for one of the yellow dots with his right foot. Shaking my head, I returned to the ancient issue of Guitar–an iconic music magazine that I had collected and read religiously since I was a little girl–open on my lap.
Before I made it through the first sentence, T-Roc shouted his love to Brooke and sidled over to me. ‘Brooke! Girl, you blew the damn top off that place last night! Jackie, some show, huh? That girl’s got er’one in New York talkin’.’
‘Yeah.’ I smiled. ‘It’s pretty great.’
‘You gotta be worn out.’ T-Roc shook his shaved head, somehow sweating despite the chilly winter air. ‘Damn long drive ahead of us today. You hanging in there?’
I nodded, sighing, ‘This whole bus situation’s crazy. I think it’s starting to wear everyone a little thin.’ I looked toward Jesse–who was watching the dancers, limbs everywhere, contorting themselves every which way–his scowl growing more defined.
Following my glance, T-Roc shrugged. ‘Don’t you worry ‘bout them. Those boys are pros; they’re used to it. E’erbody’s staying strong–keeping busy. Haven’t had a chance to shut my damn eyes yet, but it’s all good.’
I smirked, appreciative of T-Roc’s unwavering optimism. Here was this tough, larger-than-life man you’d mistake for a thug until you spent twenty seconds in his glowing presence. A walking, talking, bodyguarding contradiction. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he stood contentedly, taking in the scene. I half expected him to start whistling.
‘How you holding up?’ David, freshly off the phone, asked as he stepped over to us.
‘Depends on what’s happening with the bus.’ Looking up at him I couldn’t help but grin even though I knew my livelihood hung on his ability to get us to the next show on time.
‘We’ve got some engine problems unfortunately. Our driver took it into a shop and it took forever for them to figure out what the problem was,’ David sighed. He looked messy and disheveled yet, unlike Steve, he was able to keep his cool–making him all the more attractive. ‘Anyway, they finally figured it out–bad fuel injectors. It’s in the service garage now but it’s going to take a few hours.’
‘So what does that mean for us?’ I asked as David looked down at the oversized publication in my hands.
‘Ric Craia?! No way, man.’ Grabbing the magazine from my hands, he studied it inquisitively. The image of a man in a vintage work shirt smiled up at him from the cover, with a wide grin beneath his drooping mustache that exaggerated the folds in his face. ‘1978? Where did you get this?’
‘My dad had this huge pile of old issues in our basement and I just kind of started collecting them…I don’t know, maybe it’s weird but I love reading them.’
‘You a big Craia fan?’ David smiled as he handed the magazine back to me.
‘I am actually,’ I said as my cheeks turned pink. Though not necessarily ‘hip,’ I’d loved the blues rocker since I was a child because my father had taught me all the lyrics to his hits from the mid-seventies.
‘Come on, no way.’ David laughed flirtatiously. ‘I didn’t know you were into the whole “blue-collar, plight of factory workers and truck drivers, modern day Romeo-and-Juliet-style tragedies set in New Jersey” thing.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with making music for the everyman.’ I laughed. ‘He was arguably the best songwriter and guitarist of his time–nothing but an acoustic guitar and a microphone–that’s impossible to beat today! No electric distortions, just plain old, good music.’
‘I hear he’s making a comeback…’ David said slyly. I rolled my eyes, now annoyed.
‘Don’t be a prick.’
‘I’m not kidding…’ David said shaking his head. ‘A friend of mine out of New York, another manager, reps him–he’s been looking for ways to revitalize his career for a while now. He may be a great songwriter, but my buddy’s handpicking these tunes by pop artists for him to reinterpret. Seriously, Craia is into it.’
‘The world could always use a little more Ric Craia in it,’ I said, ‘but it’ll be interesting to see what he makes of new pop music.’ I looked around, searching for something more intelligent to say, but I couldn’t, for some reason, and so I tried to change the subject. ‘Anyway, back to the bus…’ I said slowly. ‘Any idea how far this will set us back?’
‘Well, we’re going to rush like hell to meet everyone down there in time.’ He looked pained as he said this. ‘Usually, we’d all be on separate buses, but due to the circumstances we should probably ride down there with her together,’ he said, now flashing me a wry smile. ‘Good thing you brought yourself something to read…it’s going to be a while.’
Twister seemed to get the best of Brooke before long. Thinking fast, she kept confusing her left and right, but at least not hand and foot. She hunkered down in between David and me on the bench outside and called it quits.
Resuming her quest to sneak off in search of voodoo charms, she whined to David sweetly.
‘Can’t y’all get Steve off our backs for just a few minutes? Puh-lease?’
David inhaled, looked over his shoulders, then patted me on the shoulder as if putting me in charge. ‘I’ve got your back for at least twenty-five minutes.’ He grinned at her. ‘Get out of here before anyone sees you guys.’
As David walked away, T-Roc gave me a light nudge with his elbow. ‘Girl, I been watchin’ you two.’ He smiled. ‘Mmmhmmm.’
I cracked a smile, tucking Guitar back in my bag. ‘And what, exactly, have you seen?’ I didn’t think my little crush was that obvious.
‘I see th’ sparkle in those brown eyes of yours.’ He nudged me with a bulky elbow.
‘Looks like Brooke’s had enough Twister. We need to move on out while we have a shot.’
‘Want me to come along?’
‘Nah,’ I said, but little did I know, I’d completely underestimated Brooke’s rising star power. ‘I think we’ll be just fine, but thank you.’
A