(Tim)
My mind screaming at me, my insides doing acrobatics, I opened the door and let myself in, sliding into the seat gingerly. Lord only knew who'd been sitting there before me. I reached up for the seatbelt.
Kirkham peered through a plastic window separating the front from the back. "Mr. Foust, if you promise not to touch anything, you can sit up front, if that would put your mind at ease."
I jumped right back up. "I promise! I promise!" I said quickly, immediately getting back out and climbing into the front. I felt much less like a criminal in the front seat. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, smiling at me. "I'm honestly not trying to make your life hard."
"I know," I murmured, folding my hands neatly in my lap. "It's just... nerve-wracking to have a police officer tell you to come with him."
"Understandable," Kirkham said, nodding. "Didn't mean to scare your friends either. They were being a little overboard."
"They were scared too," I said, watching as other cars suddenly tapped their brakes as we passed, or pulled on seatbelts.
"I know, but they were in the way," he complained. "And Mr. Brown..."
"He's very rarely like that," I argued on his behalf, watching a guy in the car next to us push something down to the floor. "He was afraid you were arresting me or something."
"Still, you can't hit a police officer," Kirkham pointed out, flapping a hand around his face. "Shoo." He rolled his window down.
I looked up, expecting to see a fly or a gnat or something, but didn't see anything. Guess he must have seized his opportunity and flown out.
"I know. I agree," I said quietly, cocking my head because now I could swear I heard something buzzing around.
"They won't bother you if you don't bother them," Kirkham said, turning off the main road and working his way down an alley.
"What won't bother me if I don't bother it?" I asked suspiciously, still trying to get a look at whatever was buzzing around the car. Flies and gnats I could deal with. Mosquitoes I hate, but can slap away without a problem. Random bugs are no fun, but nothing more than a nuisance. Now, bees and wasps are another story. They are actually one of the few things I am truly afraid of. Mainly due to a near-death experience I'd when I was two years old. And six and eight years old. And three times when I was nine (it'd been a rough year in Texas). Mom had first found out I was deathly allergic when I was just a toddler and wanted to pat the little fuzzy yellow creature. I didn't remember it, of course, but she said I walked right into the bush and stuck my little finger out, only to be promptly rewarded for my curiosity with a sharp sting on the very tip of my finger. She said I'd cried so hard at first she was afraid the neighbors would think she was beating me. She'd pulled me out of the bush and told Casey to run and get her the first aid kit while she tried to get me to stop screaming. At first, she was relieved when I started quieting down and stopped thrashing around so she could get the stinger out and start applying antiseptics and ice—then she realized I'd stopped screaming because I'd stopped breathing. She could barely calm herself down enough to call 911 and ended up having Casey call (Dad had been at work). The paramedics had gotten there after I'd already passed out, and had not only an unconscious two year-old to deal with but a hysterical mother as well. My nine year-old brother was the only one of us the was calm enough to talk to them. It's a good thing I had been passed out, because they gave me a shot with a large needle that to this day I still hate. I don't even remember the episode, but Mom still tears up if you mention 'Tim' and 'bee' in the same sentence. They say that I was close to dying when that happened. After that, the doctors prescribed me an Epipen to keep with me in case of emergencies. Mom kept one on hand and sent an extra to school in case I had another close encounter with bees.
I do remember the reactions I'd had later on. The one when I was six years old was still fuzzy—I think I was jumping into a sandbox or something and a bee flew up in my face, making me poof up like the Stay-Puff marshmallow man. I got two days in the hospital with that one. When I was eight, we discovered I had the same disaffinity with wasps when I tried to climb a tree at church and climbed right into a wasp nest. I got stung not once but five times and fell a good fifteen feet, breaking my arm in the process. When I was nine years old, I got stung by a wasp in the house—it chased me from the back door, through the kitchen, past the dining room, and finally landed a good sting on the back of my neck in the family room. Dad had spent ten minutes trying to kill the damn thing while Mom administered the epipen and Casey called 911. He'd gotten really good at it by then. I had a reaction later that month at school on the playground where I kept trying to tell the teacher that there were bees by the slide. Her solution (not my regular teacher but a sub for the teacher down the hall) was to find something else to play on. My friend Jeremy had thrown his shoe at it to kill it, but it only made it mad and I wound up stung anyway, at the end of the slide. The stupid sub scolded me for not finding something else to play on and tried to have me walk to the nurse's office, Jeremy yelling at her how allergic I was. He openly defied her and took me to the nurse, where she injected me with my medicine and called 911. I remember my parents were fit to be tied when they found out.
Sub got in trouble over that—never saw her again. That spring, I was involved with the choir trip when we won regionals and went to Dallas for state. Mine was cut short when, on the way to rehearsal, I was intercepted by some of my flying non-friends, who seemed to think we were interrupting their solitude in the butterfly garden. Naturally, they picked me as their intended victim and got me twice in the arm. Instead of singing on stage, I got a trip to the hospital and a flight home. I'd managed to avoid being stung for a few years, only getting stung once in high school when I was at a friend's pool party. They tried to tell me the bees would avoid me if I stayed in the water, so I was in it all afternoon and got a touch of sunburn on my shoulders, had a slice of cake in the shallow end, won a game of water polo, got my flirt on with the hot chick from science class—and a wasp sting on the back of my hand in the deep end. Getting stung while swimming was a recipe for disaster. I'd started panicking and managed to hit my head on the diving board. Coupled with my own body attacking itself, I went stupid and instead of just hoisting myself out of the water right there, I tried to swim over to the shallow end to walk out on the steps. I ended up blacking out around the four foot mark and ended up going down. Jeremy had to literally fish me up from the bottom of the pool and administer my medicine while Liz ran inside to call 911 and my parents.
Last reaction I've had was soon after I moved to Nashville. I'd scored an outdoor gig in the early summer. First half the show went great—audience was good and energetic, very responsive—and I was having a great time, letting it all hang out there. Then I took my break, grabbed some water and popcorn, started chatting people up. I started getting a little full of myself and was showing off for a cute girl (How low can you go, Tim? Well, let's see!), opened my mouth to sing some low notes for her—only to have one bee light on my water bottle, one to land on my shoulder, and one to fly right into my mouth. Luckily, only one stung me; unluckily, it was the one that decided to brave my mouth. Instead of demonstrating how low I can go, I demonstrated how high I can go, which surprised even me that time. Apparently, any time I want to sing mezzo-soprano, I only need to have a bee sting me on the roof of my mouth. I was able to give myself my own medicine and was ready to try and tackle the second part the show, but the music manager pulled me when he realized my issues and saw my face was twice its normal size. Looking back, he had been right to. I couldn't even talk right let alone try to sing.
Kirkham eyed me as he pulled into a parking garage and parked his cruiser. "Well, my last arrest was a beekeeper that was cooking meth. So we have a few, um... hanging around."
"A few?" I shrieked, unbuckling my seatbelt and twisting around. "Define 'a few'." I looked around frantically, ready to jump out the door if I saw so much as an antenna. Sure enough, I found not one but two way in the back by the back windshield. And I'd been in the back! I shrieked again for good measure, flung the door open, and leapt out, slamming it behind me. Stay in there, you buzzing flying potent instruments of death! I hope you suffocate and die! I found a pole and ducked behind it to hide myself.
Kirkham stuck his head around it. "Mr. Foust."
"Mr. Kirkham," I countered, eyes still peeled on the vehicle, afraid one would defeat the laws of physics and fly out just to take lethal aim at me.
"What, exactly, are you trying to do?" he asked me as another pair of cops strolled calmly right past the death trap. How could they be calm when there were bees circling around?
I whimpered, still holding onto the pole as if it could protect me. "Bees."
"They won't hurt you," Kirkham lied to me. "I've been in the same car with them for thirty minutes. All they've done is fly around." He reached out for my arm. "Come on."
"No, they won't hurt me, they'll kill me," I whispered, batting around my head at invisible attackers.
Kirkham got ahold of my elbow. "Be still. They're just bees."
"No, they're death sticks!" I yelped, trying to pull away from him and protect my face at the same time. Was that buzzing I heard? Oh God. I yanked my arm away and started to smack the air in front of me. I was definitely attracting attention—another set of cops frowned at me as they went headfirst into the danger zone. I was legitimately freaking the fuck out.
One of the cops paused by us. "Kirkham, is he, um, having a seizure of some sort? Do we need to call medics?"
"No, he's fine," Kirkham grumbled. "Foust, quit acting a fool and come on."
"Bees!" I snapped, my chest starting to constrict on me. Oh shit, had I already been stung without even feeling it? Oh God, my Epipen! I hadn't even brought with me to New York!
"They're in the car!" Kirkham yelled at me. "Not out here!" He pulled me out from behind the pole and started to pull me along. I began to hyperventilate around his car. "Get it together!"
The brunette made her way to us. "Do you need assistance, Kirkham?"
"I'm trying to get him to settle down!" Kirkham groaned. "He's panicking at the bees in my car."
She laid her hands on my thrashing arms. Panic. I was panicking. I tried to calm myself down. I was probably well on my way to a panic attack. I pursed my lips and pushed the air out of my lungs slowly, closing my eyes. Come on, focus. Relax. I pictured myself singing with the guys on stage, accompanied on piano by SpongeBob Squarepants and started to smile. Finally I started to hear her voice speaking to me.
"Sir, you need to calm down please. The bees are in Officer Kirkham's car. They are not out here. You are OK. Do you hear me, sir?"
Slowly, I started to nod. My hands still shaking, I whispered to her, "I'm terribly allergic."
"OK," she told me, then lifted her head up to Kirkham. "Hey, Kirkham, keep an eye out for him and any other bees that may still be in the station. He says he's really allergic to them."
"More bees?" I asked shrilly. "I can't go in there!"
"We'll take care of it, OK?" she promised, patting my hand.
"I think we about got them all out," Kirkham said, glancing at his radio. "But if we see any more, I will personally kill it, OK?"
"OK," I said shakily, finally starting to stand up and move forward.
The woman cop's partner reached out and grabbed my arms tightly. "Why isn't he cuffed, Kirkham? You think you're going to let him—"
"Because he's not under arrest, Anderson," Kirkham said tiredly. "He's a missing person I found."
Having just pulled myself back from the brink of a panic attack, I pulled away from her nervously. "Please, don't."
"An unstable missing person," Anderson countered him and I felt the cool metal slide on the underside of my wrist. I tried to pull away again.
"Please," I begged. "I'm not under arrest and I'm not unstable. I am terrified of—"
"Don't need to hear it," she asserted, clamping it shut on my right wrist. "I'm not comfortable with you walking in there unrestrained."
"Foust, can you just deal with it for three minutes?" Kirkham groaned. "Literally, three minutes?"
"No!" I yelped as the left one got secured to the right one. "I can't just deal with it!"
"This is exactly why I want you restrained," Anderson remarked, putting her hand my back and pushing me along.
"I'm not comfortable with him being restrained," the other woman contradicted her. "Given his allergy state and the possible presence of the allergen being in the station, I want him to be able to take care of himself if necessary." She reached into her belt for the key to unlock me.
"Thank you," I whispered, grateful to her for standing up for me.
"Don't...," Anderson began, reaching out and grabbing the other's arm. "...undermine my authority, Reavis."
Reavis held Anderson's gaze steadily. "I do not intend to undermine your authority. I am trying to look at the bigger picture. If he gets stung in the station, we would be liable for his reaction."
"That's a big if," Anderson informed her. "And I am your supervisor. He is to remain restrained."
Reavis blinked. "What do you propose we do if he does get stung and goes into an anaphylactic reaction?"
"Deal with it when and if it happens," she said shortly, pushing me along.
Kirkham held the door open for the three of us, me now crying quietly. Between being handcuffed, walking into a police station where there could be bees, and my general disposition, I was scared. It was was like sending someone into a building with a possible gas leak. You wouldn't put anyone else at a possible risk in the building; you shouldn't put me into a known risk.
"Get in!" Anderson snapped, pushing me inside. I started to stumble, but Kirkham quickly reached down and righted me.
"You OK?" he mumbled at me.
"Not really," I sniffled, wishing to God I could wipe my nose.
Kirkham looked at me, slightly alarmed at my answer. "What's wrong? I promise you, you are not in trouble and you are not under arrest."
"Feels like it," I grumbled, picking my hands up and displaying my bound wrists.
He rolled his eyes and waited until the women moved to the back room, still quarreling amongst themselves. He pulled his key out of his belt. "Anderson's on a power trip. She's grumpy to begin with."
"I noticed." Screw it. I picked my arm up and wiped at my nose with a sleeve, punching myself in the eye in the process. "Ow."
"Here, let me." Kirkham lowered my hands for me and poked the key in the lock. He fiddled with it a minute then frowned at the key. "I know these keys fit all of the cuffs. Here, Tim—mind if I call you Tim?"
I shook my head. "It is my name."
He patted the counter. "Put your hands up here please."
I rested my forearms on the countertop so he could have better access. He maneuvered the lock a minute, working the key in it. "Oh, damn it!" he gasped suddenly.
I lifted my eyes from the floor. Nothing good ever comes of an 'oh damn it'. "What?"
Kirkham looked sheepish. "You're going to kill me, but... we have an issue."
My gaze fell on the cuffs and drew a sharp breath when I saw the key was now stuck in the lock. "Are you kidding me?"
"I wish I was," he groaned, still twisting at it. "This is crazy. First it didn't want to fit, now it's stuck."
"I shouldn't even be handcuffed in the first place!" I snapped at him.
"I know, I know," Kirkham moaned, standing up. "I'm going to get my supervisor. We will get you free, OK? I promise."
"Howww?" I wailed, putting my head down on the counter and blinking back angry tears.
"If we have to, we can drill out the locking mechanism," Kirkham told me, patting my back. "Just hang tight."
"Like I've got a choice." Yeah, sassy Tim was now coming out. Stick around, never know what'll emerge next!
I looked at the wall, covered with missing and wanted posters, for a few minutes, then spent a few looking to see if I could find myself. I finally did, towards the bottom—a smiling happy picture of me I'd had taken just before I'd come here to New York City. I glared at my happy self, silently challenging him to change expressions to reflect my current mood. He stubbornly just hung there smiling away. Damn picture. I let my head fall into my arms and let myself cry for a few minutes. How had I even gotten in this mess? Damn phone. Damn missing report. Jenika... how could she do this to me? She fucking knew where I was—I just hadn't called her for a day or two!
Against my better judgment, I found my hand (hands) falling down to my pocket and slipping out my cell phone. Lovely. Six missed calls from Jenika. Your own damn fault this time, girl, you're the one that put out this missing person report on me—whadaya expect me to do when the police find me and I'm in police custody? I held my finger over the call button and pushed it nervously. If she'd even pick up this time.
She picked up on the second ring, only to greet me with, "Frustrating, isn't it, when you call and call and call and get no answer?"
"J-Jenika?" I stammered, tears threatening again.
"Welcome to my world!" she snapped.
"Don't be like that," I whispered, dropping the phone. "Please. I've been through hell and I—"
"You've been through hell?" she yelled. "You have? Excuse me, but what about me? I'm the one that's been trying to call you for days on end!" I could hear her yell even from the floor. I reached out to pick it up, my hands swinging forward in one pendulous movement. I clasped the phone with my right hand and placed it flat on the table in the waiting room, putting it on speaker phone and leaning over it to speak to her. "You never got back with me! What was I supposed to do?"
"Not put out a missing person report!" I snapped right back. "You knew I was in New York City!"
"For all I knew, you were dead!" Jenika shot back, venom in her voice. "And news flash—it's impossible for me to keep up with your damn schedule because you never stay anywhere very long!"
I turned my back to my growing audience to face the window. "It's always on the calendar in the office, you know that! And it says NYC, Christmas show, 21-22-23!"
"You actually going to grace me with your presence on Christmas?" Jenika asked me sarcastically. "What do I owe this great honor to?"
"Jenika," I said, my voice cracking. I clasped my hands together (not much else I could do with them anyway) and leaned forward over the table. "Course I'm coming home for Christmas."
"Well, whoop-de-fucking-do. The great Tim Foust is coming home for Christmas," she scoffed.
"Jenika!" I exclaimed. "I always am home for holidays! And other times! What?" I demanded when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Shit. There were six off-duty cops, a couple of detainees, and several groups of family members watching me argue with my wife.
"Can I have your autograph?" a young girl asked hopefully.
I glanced down at my hands, still shackled together, and at the phone I'd been shouting into. "Not a good time!"
"It's never a good time for you!" Jenika hollered over the phone. "Never!"
"Not you, Jenika," I told her. "Someone else."
"Can't I have your fucking undivided attention for ten minutes?" she yelled. "I'm tired of being second fiddle to your damn band! Where are you when I need you? Off on tour! Always! Never any us time! And you're so inconsiderate you can't even call me back! I'm so tired of it!"
Another young girl joined up with the first. "Please? We really like your music. You're a really good singer."
"Jenika, listen to me!" I ordered, then glanced at the girls, shaking my head and double pointing, with both index fingers, to my phone. "My phone was dead! I wasn't receiving any calls from anyone!"
"Ever hear of a thing called a phone charger?" she asked snidely. "See, you plug it into the socket and into your phone and miraculously, your battery gets charged up!"
"Touch his hair!" one of the girls whispered. "I love his hair."
I gave the girls a warning glare. "Not the battery—the whole phone was done for. I dropped it in water."
"Stupid klutz. You are always so fucking klutzy. Almost like you're crippled or something," Jenika remarked. "Were you texting while using the toilet again? That's so gross."
"Hey!" I yelped as I felt fingers crawling all over my neck and into my hair. "Hands to yourself, please! I'm busy!"
"You're always busy, Tim! You're too busy! Too busy for your wife!" Jenika yelled at me. "Tell me. If I made you choose between me and your band, what would you pick? Me or your music?"
My heart sunk. "Jenika. Don't do that. You can't... make me choose something like that. I need both. I'm not cutting music out of my life—that's just not something I can do. And I love you, Jenika." Mad as hell at you right now, but underneath it, there is love. "Please know I love you very much." I threw my hands back to pull the girls' fingers out of my hair. "Stop. Please just leave me alone right now."
"I love you so leave me alone?" Jenika snorted. "You're so two-faced."
"Not you, baby. These girls are all up in my business here," I told her.
"Don't call me your baby right now," she warned me. "I'm mad at you. And I refuse to fall for your lies, your fast talking, your puppy dog eyes, and your velvet voice anymore."
"Well, I'm not lying, I'm talking at a perfectly normal pace, you can't see my puppy dog eyes over the phone, and I sound like I've been crying for hours so it sure as hell isn't velvety right now."
"I think it's velvety," one of the girls said. "You always sound sexy to me."
" 'Chu been crying for?" Jenika grumbled.
"Well, one, this morning the six of us—me, Rob, Austin, Chance, Adam, and Avi Kaplan went to get our phones fixed. We all had to replace them because they were irreparably damaged in a massive bathroom flood. Rob broke his glasses and managed to get separated from the rest of us. Then Avi's knee was hurting like hell, so he took a strong pain pill and it made him really loopy. Then—"
"Wait—who? Abby? This some girl?" she demanded suspiciously. "Are you cheating on me on top of everything else, Tim?"
"Not Abby—I said Avi. Avi Kaplan. Of Pentatonix. A guy. Hence, the pronouns 'he' and 'him'," I said sarcastically.
"Oh, I know who you're talking about. That one chick," she muttered darkly.
"No, Jenika, not a chick!" I snapped. "Avi. Avi Kaplan. Black hair, green eyes, beard, bass singer with a beanie." I heard giggling behind me and turned to yell at the irritating girls—only to see the source of the giggle. I smiled gratefully at Austin, who was pushing his way through the crowed, Diaz and Greene now taking over crowd control, thank God.
"Oh. That dude," Jenika finally backed off.
"Yes, that dude," I said as Chance gaped at my handcuffs. I mouthed 'Jenika' to my friends. "We went to the mall, got our phones replaced. That is when I saw the two hundred and fifty-three phone calls from you. And Austin and Rob and Adam saw their missed calls. Rob said he talked to Kelsey who talked to you." Rob was nodding so hard his beard was jiggling up and down. "So you can quit blaming me for not calling you earlier. By the way, Chance was the only one of us with a working phone, but you didn't call him."
"Don't got his number," she said shortly. "And he's not my favorite person in the world anyway."
I scowled down at the phone as Chance gave it a surprised look. "Why the hell not? He's my friend, so too bad for you." Chance started to shake his head frantically at me, gesturing no, and waving his hands wildly.
"No, no!" he whispered, green eyes huge. "Don't say that to her! Not what you're supposed to say to your wife."
"Don't trust him," Jenika said lamely. "Too quiet." I rolled my eyes as Adam covered his face and snorted. " He's too, ah, watchful. Seems like he's always glaring at people.""He's weird. Strikes me as the guy that either blows the school up or kills himself. I—"
"Jenika!" I yelled at her, fists clenching. "He is a good person! Don't you dare say those things about him!"
Chance's hand fell on my arm. "Chill. Let it go. It's OK."
"I'm just saying," Jenika finished.
"Well, don't say it," I ordered, much more calmly now.
"Oh good Lord," Kirkham's voice pounded through the air. Took him long enough to get back to me. "Show's over, get out of the way, move, sir. Move!"
"Not moving," Diaz grunted at him. "I'm keeping these people away from my client. Miss, camera away!"
Ugh, cameras. Yes, definitely don't want cameras anywhere near me.
Austin shrieked when he got pushed to the side by Kirkham's supervisor. "No! I'm with him!"
"Tim, what the hell is going on?" Jenika yelled over the phone. "Where are you?"
"Police station!" I yelled right back as Kirkham and his supervisor picked up my hands and examined the cuffs. "Thanks to you and your damn missing person report!"
"She really didn't need to get it this tight," his supervisor was saying. I eyed his name tag. Jackson. L. Jackson.
"She was kind of irritated when she did it," Kirkham admitted.
Jenika was laughing at my misfortune, making me even more mad. "Take it the cops finally found you and made you call me? Ha! At what point would you have called me on your own free will?"
"Yes, they found me," I snapped. Jackson slid a finger under the jammed mechanism and tried to slide the key out. "I called you on my own though while I'm waiting at the police station. Actually, they're back, so can I call you back?"
"Got the lubricant, Kirkham?" Jackson asked as Adam peered over at what they were doing.
"What they handcuff you for?" he asked me.
"Cop on power trip," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "Not Kirkham. Some woman called Anderson."
"We'll get you out, Tim," Kirkham assured me, patting my shoulder. "And I'm really sorry you're in this position."
"Yeah, me too," I muttered.
"Oh my God, Tim!" Jenika shrieked, laughing. "Have you gotten yourself arrested?"
"No!" I told her firmly. "Police found me and they had to bring me in to sign some papers to complete your damn missing person report!"
"They wouldn't have handcuffed you for that," Jenika decided. "You're lying again."
"I'm not lying!" I shouted, hurt that she even thought I would lie to her. I happened to see Adam out of the corner of my eye, whose head was slightly tilted back, eyes zipping back and forth and something high in the air. I pulled my own eyes skyward and immediately jumped when I saw what he was watching so closely. Oh shit. In the corner, by the ceiling. A bee, just hovering above us all.
"Be still!" Jackson ordered, having difficulties with the now-lubricated key. His hand slipped and whatever tool he was working with bit into my skin.
Adam must have seen me looking up and quickly slid his hand over my eyes. "Nothing up there. I thought I saw something but I was wrong."
"Adammm," I moaned, starting to rock back and forth. "I saw it."
"Don't yell at me," Jenika said coolly. "If you're handcuffed, you're under arrest. Probably lost your temper. And right now I don't feel like bailing you out."
"Good thing he doesn't need you to bail him out!" Rob snapped at her.
"Rob Lundquist, you butt out!" Jenika yelled at him. "Tim, am I on speaker phone? Take me off it right now and use your lazy ass arms to hold the phone to your ear like a normal person! God!"
"Jenika, my hands are tied! Literally!" I snapped. "I can't hold it to my ear!"
"Damn, Kirkham, what'd you do to get this so jammed?" Jackson groaned, wiping his hands on his pant leg and trying again.
Kirkham shrugged helplessly. "Trying to... Anderson snapped them shut pretty hard; she might have jammed the locking mechanism or something."
Jackson sighed, wiping his brow. "Go get the drill." He flapped his hand in his face, slapping at a cheek. "Damn bees."
I shuddered as it circled his head, then went to check out Avi's ponytail. He slapped at his hair absentmindedly, sending it flying over to bug Greene. He ignored it as it hovered about a foot above his head. "J-J-Jenika," I stuttered. "Got a lot, um, going on." The bee flew over to a woman who did have strong perfume on. "C-can I c-call you back?"
Adam dropped to his knees next to me. "If it comes close to you, I'll kill it, OK?" He grabbed a magazine from a side table, ready for action if need be.
I managed a weak nod at him as Kirkham came back with a rather menacing-looking drill.
"Am I off speaker phone like I asked? I don't think I am," Jenika accused.
"He can't hold the phone right now," Chance patiently tried to explain to her. "He was unjustly placed in handcuffs and can't—Adam, what are you doing?" he demanded as Adam flapped the magazine in the air.
"I'm on bee patrol," Adam answered, grabbing a second magazine to strengthen the first.
"You stay out of this too, Chance!" Jenika ordered. "I want to talk to Tim and Tim alone!"
"Call her back," I whispered, eyes still peeled for that bee. "Tell her I'll call her back when I—ahh!" I jumped when I felt heavy pressure pushed to my wrists, followed immediately by strong vibrations.
"Shit!" Kirkham yelled, barely catching the drill before he drilled into my arm. "Tim, you have got to be still!"
"Don't kill me!" I yelped, a new fear of having my arm drilled open now developing.
Chance picked up my phone and put it to his ear, pulling it off speaker phone. "Tim will call you right back, OK? He—excuse me?... that was uncalled for. I'm trying to help Tim right now. He will call you right—" He blanched. "Oh Lord." He bent over me. "Listen, Jenika is pretty emotional right now. I—"
I gasped as the bee decided Chance's head was interesting and landed right on top of it. "Bee! Your head!"
Adam poised next to him with the magazines. "No offense, Chance. But Tim is allergic. I got to kill it."
Chance made a face. "God. OK, go ahead."
Adam lowered the magazines in a good whack onto poor Chance, only to have the bee get a good whiff of ESP and zoom off into the hallway. "Damn it, he flew away."
"Tim, please be still," Kirkham begged me as I couldn't help but wiggle around. "I really don't want to slice an artery."
"There is a bee in here and Tim is allergic," Austin helpfully told the police officers.
"First order of business is getting him out of these handcuffs," Jackson grunted, then called over his shoulder, "Someone over at the counter, look up and find out for me who Sharon Anderson's supervisor is."
"Jenika!" Rob yelled into my phone as Adam approached the back of a chair with his magazines. Oh God. Don't tell me the bee is back. Rob shook his head and pressed the phone to my ear. "Bud, I'm real sorry, but she's insisting."
I tried to hold back a flinch as Jackson moved the drill around the cuffs. He placed his hand on my arm to keep me still.
"What, Jenika? I seriously got a lot of shit going on right now. There's a bee flying around my head, I got papers to sign, I got police officers trying to drill these damn handcuffs off me and to top it all off, I gotta go pee now. Can't I call you back in twenty minutes?"
Rob lifted his head to Jackson and Kirkham. "You guys need to hurry. He's got to pee."
"We're doing the best we can, sir," Jackson mumbled, lifting the drill up and looking at the end of it.
"Tim, listen to me," Jenika said quietly, so quietly that I had to strain to hear her in my own hubbub. "I told the same thing to Rob. If you hang up on me now, I'll know you don't care about me. Or about us. If you hang up on me now, I'm through with you." She sniffled. "I shouldn't always be second on your list of priorities."
I froze. What? Through? With me? My left thumb flew to my wedding band. Was she threatening me with divorce? Oh my God. My world seemed to stand still and I closed my eyes, struggling to keep it together in this very public place. I really wanted to just lose it, to go shuffle into a corner and just cry as she slowly cut my heart open.
Rob dropped to his knees next to my head as a strand of hair fell onto my forehead. I shook my head a tough to get it out of the way. "Listen, I know what she said. It'll be OK. It's nothing you can't work out. She's upset, you're upset oh my God, Tim, don't move."
"What?" I croaked, blinking hard.
"Tim, are you there?" Jenika asked, crying herself.
"Yeah, I'm here," I whispered, that irritating hair still on my forehead. I started to shake my head again, then remembered Rob's advice to not move. Why had he told me that? I rolled my eyes upwards as if I could actually see my own forehead. Rob suddenly shot a hand out and flicked at my forehead. I screeched when the damn bee flew up off of me and zoomed right at Rob's face. I screamed again when it got him on the cheek by his eye.
"Ouch!" he yelped, clasping a hand at his face. He held a finger up as I just sat there screaming my head off and everyone turned to look at us. "But I'm not allergic!"
"Tim!" Jenika was yelling frantically. "Tim! Tim! Tim! Tim! Are you OK? What happened what happened?"
Chance ended up taking me in his arms. "Tim. Calm down. You did not get stung. Rob did. And Rob will be OK. He's over there laughing with Austin. Please stop screaming. Please. Deep breaths. Come on. Do it with me."
"Well, if nothing else...," Kirkham began, giving my wrists a small tug and pulling the cuffs off. "...Tim is free."
"Hallelujah." Avi patted my hand. "It's OK. Breathe."
I pursed my lips and drew in a long drawn-out breath. "Jenika?"
"I'm here," she said softly. "What's going on over there?"
I lifted a hand experimentally to take the phone, currently being held to my ear by Chance. Ahh. Glad to have the use of my hands back. "Bee."
Jenika gasped. "Did you get stung?"
"No, Rob did. But it was on my face," I wailed, patting at my forehead gingerly.
"Then why were you screaming like that?" she yelled at me. "Is it your goal in life to scare me into a heart attack?"
"You know I'm afraid of bees!" I snapped as Rob and Austin were escorted down the hall to find some first aid for him.
"Tell ya what," Kirkham said. "I'm going to try to make your life a little easier here. It seems you've already got things kind of difficult right now. I'll buy you a drink. What can I get you?"
"Jack and Coke?" I suggested dryly, making Chance, Adam, and Avi snort. He and Jackson just grinned.
"All we've got is soft drinks. How about just a Coke?" Kirkham tried.
"Coke is fine, thank you," I settled. Too bad on the Jack.
"I'll get the papers," Jackson told Kirkham, who nodded at him.
I stood up, phone still in hand. I cupped the mouthpiece and asked the lady at the counter if she could direct me to the restroom.
She pointed down the hall. "Second door to the left."
I nodded my appreciation and slid my fingers off the mouthpiece. "Jenika, I have got to use the bathroom or I'mma pee myself. I know you hate it when I pee and talk."
"Yeah, 'cause it's gross!" she snapped. "Look. Call me back in half hour. I will hold you to that."
"OK," I said, pushing the door open with my elbow, already unbuckling and unzipping my pants. "I promise."
"OK. Talk to you later, bye." She clicked off just as I lifted my tongue to the roof of my mouth to say 'love you, bye'. I didn't get an 'I love you'? Or a chance to say it myself? I bit my lip hard to not break down in more tears. Finally, I just shoved my phone in my pocket. I used the bathroom quickly, then went to wash my hands, staring at myself in the mirror. I didn't seem to look as bad as I felt. Although my eyes were red and my nose was runny, the rest of me seemed OK. I grabbed a paper towel and blew it clear, then tried to figure out just what to do about my red eyes. I ended up just splashing water on them and hoping for the best. I'll have to get them in tiptop shape by tonight—I can't go on stage all red-eyed. Stage. The performance. Shit, we need to rehearse the hell out of the songs. We needed to re-integrate Austin back into things! And we can't lose Mitch—he made Colder Weather what it was! His notes at the end were just unreal!
"One thing at a time, Foust, one thing at a time," I mumbled to myself, pushing the door open and getting a good whiff of pizza. Ohhh, pizza. My empty stomach did a couple of flips in my abdomen. I glanced at my watch. Well, no wonder I was hungry; it was lunchtime. Hopefully I could sign those papers real quick and we could get out and get something to eat.
Kirkham stuck his head out of a side office and into the foyer. "Over here, Tim."
I eyed the Coke in his hand and picked up the pace. "Mine?" I asked hopefully, pointing at it.
"Yep," he told me, giving it to me. "Are you hungry?"
I looked at him, a bit surprised. "Well, actually, yes."
"Good!" Avi called out from inside the room, waving a slice in the air. "Come on in. They're treating us."
I looked at Kirkham. "Really?"
He nodded, smiling. "Yep. Chief of police got the Christmas bug and is treating us. And I am treating you all."
"Awesome!" I told him, my mood starting to brighten. "Thank you, thank you!" I needed no further invitation, plunging a hand into a pizza box and helping myself to a nice fat slice full of pepperoni and sausage, then slid down in a seat next to Avi and Chance.
Avi pushed his plate to me. "You're welcome to my pepperoni."
"Oh, that's right—you don't eat them, do you?" He shook his head as I deftly plucked a couple off the top. "Thanks."
"Welcome," he said, now going to town on it. "Hey, can someone hand me the cheese bread?"
Adam pushed the box across the table, laughing. "Lunch at the police station! Who'd have thought?"
"Right!" Austin laughed with his mouth full, giving Chance a good view. He rolled his eyes.
"All right, let's see here..." Kirkham began, rustling through papers with one hand and holding a half-eaten pice of pizza in the other. "Here it is. Tim, this first one is saying that you recognize that there has been a missing person report out on you. Sign at the bottom, please."
Not even bothering to put my slice down, I glanced over it quickly. Form 1010B—admission to missing person report. I scrawled my name at the bottom.
"Thish nexsht one—excushe me." Kirkham swallowed quickly. "This next one is consent to interstate transfer." He pushed another sheet at me.
Chewing carefully, I looked over it. Filed in Tennessee, sent priority to Texas and Wisconsin, then spread to Minnesota and Georgia. I rolled my eyes and signed it.
"This one—oops." Kirkham reached out and managed to catch his Coke before it fell all over Rob's plate. Rob, now with a nice red cheek, spread a hand over his plate protectively. "Sorry there. This one is the report Jenika made in Tennessee. Sign at the bottom." He passed the paper to me.
Form 1010A-Missing Person in the State of Tennessee, filed by Jenika M. Foust. I sighed and signed it.
Kirkham pulled a piece of paper out of a manila folder and signed it himself. "Actually, I'm glad all of you are here. I'm going to need Tim to sign here, on the yellow highlighted area. The rest of you, please print your names on the bottom right and sign and date on the bottom left."
"Pfffttt," Chance sputtered, looking surprised. "Say what?"
"Well, you're witnesses," Kirkham said mildly, handing the paper to Rob, who again made a move to protect his pizza. "I'm not gonna take your lunch. If you physically saw me locate Tim and drive off premises with him in my car, I need you to sign it please."
Rob held the paper for a minute, just reading it.
"What we got to do that for?" Adam asked.
"Red tape, I guess." Kirkham shrugged. "Just part of the process."
"Let me see that, please, Rob." Greene leaned across the table to take it from him.
"I'm reading it," Rob grunted, eyes never leaving the paper.
"Don't sign it until we see it," Diaz advised.
I grabbed another piece of pizza. "You didn't look at anything I signed."
"You're the person in question. I knew you'd be signing all the paperwork," Greene explained, finally taking the paper from Rob. "I was unaware of them needing to sign anything."
Diaz held a hand out to Kirkham. "May I see the other blank forms please?"
"Which forms would you like?" Kirkham asked him, looking like he was trying hard not to lose his patience.
"These, ah, 1010C's," Greene answered, pressing a finger to the top of the page he was examining.
"Fine." Kirkham pushed his chair back. "Just a moment, please."
"For being the electronic age, this sure is an awful lot of forms," Austin remarked, reading over Greene's shoulder. Adam and Avi got up from their chairs to study the page as well, and Chance joined a minute later. I reached over and snatched the pepperoni off of Avi's second piece of pizza and, curiosity getting the better of me, also got up to take a look at it. Seemed innocuous enough to me. Form 1010C- Attestation of Locating Missing Person. There was a section where Kirkham had filled out the details of having found me in a limousine of KCI Security, driven by C.P.S Samuel C. Diaz down South 110th Avenue at Broadway. Person was verified via driver's license as being the alleged missing individual Timothy James Foust, in the accompaniment of the above named security guard. Individual was taken with moderate degree of difficulty into police cruiser number 147 by Officer Andrew T. Kirkham. Witnesses included second certified personal security Tony M. Greene, and friends and fellow band members Matthew A. Brown, Adam T. Chance, Avriel B. Kaplan, Robert C. Lindquist, and Adam F. Rupp. Followed by a ton of lines to sign and date.
"Looks legit to me?" I asked uncertainly.
Rob shrugged. "They spelled my name wrong."
"Well, yeah," I admitted.
"Does it matter that my middle initial is not F?" Adam asked as Kirkham walked back in.
"It's not?" he asked, looking alarmed.
Adam shook his head. "H. Henry."
"Crap," Kirkham muttered. He handed a thick folder to Diaz. "Here's the forms you asked for. I'll go reprint that sheet."
"That sounds like a 'yes, it matters that your middle initial is not F'," Chance remarked.
Rob jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over. "Then my Lindquist probably matters too. I better chase him down." He darted out the door.
"Rob? Chase someone down?" I snorted, making the others laugh.
Both Kirkham and Rob came back at the same time.
"So, you're saying the 'i' right here should be a 'u'?" Kirkham was saying, pointing to the paper.
Rob nodded. "If you need my last name to be correct. L-U-N-D-Q-U-I-S-T."
"Well, crap, crap." Kirkham turned back around to fix that error.
Diaz was flipping through the forms in the folder. "Looks like it is legit and fine. Once thy get Adam's F and Rob's I fixed, you all can go ahead and sign it."
"OK," Chance said.
"I've got a question," Avi spoke up shyly.
Diaz looked at him expectantly. "Well, what is it, Avriel B. Kaplan?"
"The, ahh, verbiage here," Avi said, taking the paper from him and placing it on the table so we could all see what he was talking about. "Witnesses included second certified personal security Tony—"
"Should that be Anthony?" I asked Greene quickly.
Greene shook his head. "My legal given name is just Tony." He rolled his eyes skyward. "Thanks, Mom. I get that asked all the time."
"Just double checking," I said, touching Avi's shoulder. "Go on, sorry about that, Avi."
Never missing a beat, Avi continued reading. "M. Greene, and friends and fellow band members..." He enunciated and emphasized those words carefully. "Matthew A. Brown, Adam T. Chance, Avriel B. Kaplan." Avi looked up. "I'm not your bandmate."
"Not really, are you?" Austin mumbled, twisting a lock of hair around a finger.
Kirkham came back in. "All fixed! Now do you think—what is it, Mr. Kaplan?"
Avi had held a finger up. "I was just taking my friends about the verbiage here."
Kirkham looked puzzled. "Hmm?"
He pointed down the sentence again. "It says were that witnesses included blah blah blah and friends and fellow band members blah blah blah Avriel B. Kaplan. I'm not—"
Kirkham rolled his head upwards. "Don't tell me I spelled your name wrong."
"No, no, it's spelled right," Avi assured him. "Middle initial is correct too. My question is concerning the phrase 'friends and fellow band members'."
"Aren't you Tim's friend and fellow band member?" he asked him.
"Friend, yes. Fellow band member, no." Avi pointed to the five of us. "They are Home Free. I am part of Pentatonix. A different band."
Kirkham closed his eyes. "Crap, crap, crap. Are you sure?"
"Uh, yeah," Avi said, laughing a little. "Positive."
Adam stood up. "If it would help, I can hereby make Avi an honorary member of Home Free."
"Legally, I don't think you can do that," Kirkham grumbled, taking the paper from Avi. "I'll make the corrections."
"Well, why the hell not?" Adam reasoned, looking haggled. "I helped found this group sixteen years ago. I can make whoever I want a member."
"It's not that, Mr. Rupp; clearly, it's in your rights to do whatever you want with your band's membership. It's the way I have this worded." Kirkham signed. "I'll fix it. Anything else I need to fix?"
"Not that I noticed," I said, glancing at the others. "Anyone else maybe see something I didn't?" They all mumbled a collective no, so Kirkham walked off to make final corrections.
"Sorry, guys," Avi apologized to us.
"Don't worry about it," Rob told him. "He had to fix my I issue anyway."
"And they do got to get it right apparently," Diaz said. "But I'm not going to even mention the accent mark that's supposed to go over the I in my last name."
"Yes, please don't," Austin said, laughing with such sudden force that he sprinkled Chance with saliva.
"Ughh!" he grunted, giving him a dirty look. "Keep your spit to yourself!"
We all started chuckling at that.
"Sorry, sorry dude," Austin said, still laughing. "Diaz's accent mark just cracked me up."
Kirkham came back a minute later. "OK, got it all perfect. Anybody that screws it up now is going to be on my crap-list, got it? Now sign your names on the corresponding lines. Do not sign on the wrong line. Today's day is December 23, 2016." He handed the paper to Diaz, who quickly found his line and scribbled his name on it before passing it to Greene. He signed it and passed it to Austin, who completed it in his neat handwriting. Austin passed it to Adam, who seemingly just scrawled on the paper. Avi signed in a tidy script and gave me the paper.
"Yellow highlighted area," he reminded me.
"Right." I found my spot and signed my name, legibility somewhere between Diaz's, Greene's and Adam's chicken scratch and Avi's and Austin's clear signatures. I paused in my paper passing, staring at Austin's name. He'd signed it as Austin Brown on the line for Matthew A. Brown. "Umm..."
"Don't 'umm' anything," Kirkham warned me. "Just sign it and pass it along."
"OK, how's about an 'err'?" I said wryly, still staring at his fancy A.
"Tim, just hand it over; I saw you sign it." Chance reached out and clasped the paper between his thumb and two fingers, starting to pull it away.
"Wait," I said as he started with his own tiny A. "Why you got to write so small anyway?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. I've always written that way. Didn't know you were offering free handwriting critiques anyway."
"Tim's handwriting isn't the greatest in the world anyway," Adam snorted.
"Yours is worse than mine!" I shot right back. "But anyway—Austin signed the paper as Austin!"
"Who the hell is Austin?" Kirkham demanded though narrowed eyes. "I don't recall seeing an Austin on any of your IDs."
"Oh shit—did I do that?" Austin wailed, extending his arms across the table and burying his face into his harms, hand flopping into Chance's pizza.
Chance started jabbing at the back of his hand. "Move. Your. Hand."
"Are you Austin?" Kirkham demanded him.
"Yes," he moaned. "Matthew Austin Brown—I've gone by Austin for eons."
"By eons, he means thirty years," Rob explained, taking the paper from Chance. "Should I even bother signing it at this point? Or is it null and void now that Matthew's signed it as Austin?"
"I'm so sorry!" Austin cried dramatically. "I was on autopilot! I sign a gazillion things Austin!"
"You should always sign your legal name on legal documents," Kirkham scolded him, picking up the paper. "See, Samuel signed, um, S... S something L. Clearly Samuel, not Sam. Avriel signed his name as Avriel. Timothy signed Timothy. Why can't Matthew sign Matthew?"
"I don't usually sign legal documents," Austin grumped, finally moving his hand out of Chance's lunch. "Give it back to me. Can I just add Matthew in front of the Austin? Then it'll be Matthew Austin Brown, my full and complete legal name. Would that work? Please?"
"At this point, fine," Kirkham muttered, handing it back to him.
Austin took the pen, and to the left of his blank, added his Matthew, still somehow making it look neat. "How's this?"
"I'll live with it," Kirkham grunted as Rob made a big show of signing his name.
"Robert C. Lundquist," he drawled out slowly, writing it out and crossing his T's with a flourish. "See how that works, Matthew Austin? My full name is Robert, so I signed Robert!" He beamed at him.
"Ah, shut it," Austin grumbled.
"OK now, let me see it." Kirkham held a hand out to take it. "Oddly enough, I don't trust you guys anymore."
Rob gave Austin a pointed look. Austin just pouted back at him.
Kirkham gave it a quick glance through and started neatly filing the papers in the folder. "Got it."
We all just sat there looking at him expectantly for a few minutes before he looked up and said, "Uh, we're good here. You can go now."
"Oh, right." Rob laughed, moving his chair back to stand up, grabbing another slice of pizza for the road. "Thanks for lunch!"
"Well, if there's nothing more they need of us, I suppose we can head on," Diaz said, also standing up.
"Where to, guys?" Greene asked, holding the door open for us.
"Umm," I mumbled, not even really sure at this point. What else was it we needed to do now? Glasses, phone... Oh shit! I yanked my wrist up. Had it been half hour? Longer? I had a bad feeling it had been more like forty-five minutes. I yanked my phone out of my pocket and glanced down at the display. Three missed calls—one from Jenika (damn it), one from my mother, and one from my older brother. I started calling as soon as we got back in the car.
Jenika answered right way, still pretty grumpy. "Tim, do you fucking own a watch?"
"Yes—yes, sorry, we were in a meeting with the police, signing papers. We just got out."
"For forty-five minutes?" she asked suspiciously.
"Yes, for forty-five minutes. There were lots of papers and one had a couple of mistakes on it that needed to be—," I began.
"You're a mistake," she told me darkly, then I heard the click of the phone being cut off. Like an idiot, I swung the phone in front of my face and frowned at it. "Bitch, let me finish my sentence before you hang up like that."
"She hung up on you?" Chance asked, eyebrows raised. I nodded, staring straight ahead out the window, trying not to cry or yell. I wasn't entirely sure which I wanted to do, anyway.
"Oh, Tim." Adam looked at me sadly. "I'm so sorry you're going through this."
Oh, OK, so that helped me figure out which it was I wanted to do. Clearly, it was crying.
Rob's phone suddenly jiggled in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the display screen, immediately shifting into a large frown. When he answered it, he sounded pissed off as hell. "Whadaya want?"
"Rob!" Adam admonished, surprised at the tone in his voice.
Rob just waved an impatient hand at him. "Yeah, it's Rob... yes, Lundquist! What—well, I'm just a little bit aggravated right now!.... 'cause you're treating my best friend like shit!"
I turned my head to him. "Who is that?"
"I'll talk to you however I want to. I'm not putting up with your shit.... uh-uh... why, 'cause he puts up with your crap?.... No! I won't! You called me, so you're getting me!... Hello? Hello?" Rob snorted and tucked his phone away. "Jenika. She called me thinking she could spew her frustrations at you out on me."
"What'd she say?" I asked curiously.
Rob narrowed his eyes. "Stuff that doesn't need to be repeated. She's majorly pissed off right now and she was first talking shit about you, then started in on me and I wasn't having it. She wanted—"
He was cut off by the ringing of Austin's phone. Austin looked at his warily then rolled his eyes. "My turn." He touched the accept call button. "Hello... yeah, it's Austin.... mmf... well, whadaya expect? If you talk to people like that, they're going to get—... hey now, that was uncalled for... no.... now you can knock that off right now... not if you're going to be like that! You're not going to be calling me just to bitch him out and I'm sure as hell not handing you over to him! Hello? Um, hello?"
"Got hung up on?" Rob guessed.
"Yep," he drawled.
Adam eyed his phone suspiciously. "Don't even think about calling me."
His phone seemed to take this as a challenge, ringing only seconds later. He pressed it to his ear. "Yes, hello, this is Adam.... excuse me?!?! Don't talk to me like that... mhmm... nope...depends. You gonna talk to him like a normal human being or like a deranged jealous lover?" The five of us snorted at that. "...well, I'm his friend and I'm not going to let you—what?... You wanna rephrase that?.... No, I'm not gonna give you Chance's number!"
"She don't wanna talk to me, believe me," Chance muttered darkly.
"No! You wanna talk to Tim, first get your attitude in check, them call him direc—what? You want who?... No. For one thing, I don't have Avi's number... well, I don't!... I don't care what you call me, you—" Adam looked startled, then clicked his phone off. "Hung up on me."
"What the hell is she doing?" I asked him crossly.
"One, cussing you out," Rob recounted.
"Two, being a little bitch," Austin added.
"Three, verifying your story that you were signing papers for forty-five minutes," Adam grumbled.
Avi rolled his eyes. I sighed, shaking my head.
"This is crazy," I bemoaned, holding my head in my hands. "She's acting like... like, I'm, I dunno, not trustworthy. Like I'm lying to her or cheating on her or something."
Chance patted my back. "Women can be weird."
"Sooo true," I groaned into my hands.
"Well, we're going to go back to the hotel, is that OK?" Diaz asked, turning to go down 73rd. "So you can get cleaned up and pull yourselves together. Take a break. You've already had a tough day."
"Good idea," Avi murmured, rubbing at his knee. I wondered if it was bothering him again.
We pulled into the hotel about fifteen minutes later and we all piled out.
"I'm going to go lie down," Avi told us.
"I'm going to decompress in the game room,"Adam decided.
"I want to watch TV," Austin said. "Anybody else?"
Rob shook his head. "I'm going to call Kelsey."
"I'm going to read my book," Chance said.
"I'm going to, umm," I mumbled. What I really wanted to do was make a stop at the hotel bar. "Think they're serving beer at, ahh..." I glanced at my watch. "1:30?"
"Worth checking into," Chance told me, grinning. "I'll go with you."
"OK." We started to walk off towards the bar area.
"Don't get too drunk yet!" Adam called out to us. "We need you in tiptop shape for singing tonight!"
"In order to be in any shape to sing, I think I do need to be a little bit drunk," I muttered under my breath, making Chance laugh.
His phone starting ringing, and without thinking about it, he answered it quickly. "Hello? Hello? Yes, this is Chance, who is this?" Suddenly, his eyes got huge and yelled into the phone, loudly enough to make Adam, Rob, Austin, and Avi, along with a few other people, turn around. "How did you get this number?"
"Don't tell me it's her!" I breathed, shocked she'd go to such lengths just to see if I was lying about my whereabouts.
Chance nodded at me, the others stating to race over to us.
"How did she get your number?" Adam demanded. "I flat out refused!" He looked at me accusingly.
"I didn't give it to her!" I snapped. "His number is only in my phone and I never wrote it down anywhere else!"
"Kelsey," Chance mouthed at us.
Rob bought a frustrated fist down on a nearby counter. "Fuck!"
Several people gave him dirty looks but Austin just patted him on the shoulder. "She didn't know any better."
"I know it," Rob muttered. "Still maddening, though. Sorry, everyone!"
"What?" Chance asked into the phone, sticking a finger in his right ear canal. He jostled when she spoke up loudly enough to be heard without the phone pressed to an ear. "OK, OK, you don't have to yell... I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you at first... yeah, yeah, I can hear you loud and clear now... yeah... so?... what???... yeah, I heard you, I just couldn't believe you said that; it was incredibly rude... well, if it fits.... excuse me?!... no. Just no.... whadaya—no I most certainly will not! How about you— ... been there, done that, got the T-shirt, so shut it." With that, Chance hung up on her.
"Um, what was the about?" I ventured.
He turned to me. "She'll probably call you next. And she'll probably be mad. I basically just told her to go fuck herself—"
"Good for you," Rob muttered darkly, now playing with a pen holder on the counter.
"I think we've all four corroborated your story of being stuck signing things for forty-five minutes. She's mad you didn't call her back after thirty minutes on the dot," Chance continued as I rolled my eyes. "She's mad none of us would put you on the phone to blow smoke up your ass. She is being unreasonable, emotional, and frankly, a bit of a bitch."
"Been there, done that, got the T-shirt?" Avi asked quizzically.
"Yeah," Chance grunted. "She was being a bitch so I was a bitch right back. It don't matter anyway."
"Ya know what?" Adam asked blandly, rubbing his eyes.
"What?" Austin mumbled, staring out the window.
"Let's all go get a beer," Adam said, eyeing the hotel bar. "They're serving."
"I think that's one of the best ideas you've ever had," Rob remarked. "Let's do it."
"Better than the idea to form this band?" I teased, my mood improving knowing that beer was in my immediate future.
"I said one of the best ideas he's ever had," Rob reminded me, grinning. "Not the best idea."
We all made our way to the bar, where we snagged a table. I grabbed one of the three menus in the menu holder (you'd think they'd have one for each seat, but they didn't) and handed one to Austin and Rob, and one to Adam and Avi. Chance and I poured over ours and quickly made our selections. He waved the waitress over and we put in our orders. I kept glancing down at my phone, half expecting Jenika to call and bitch at me. I jumped a mile when Avi's phone rang.
"Just me," he mumbled. Shrugging, he pushed it away. "What? I don't recognize the number so I'm not answering it."
"What number was it?" I asked suspiciously.
"Six... um, six something," he said, picking it back up when it rang again a few minutes later. "Now that number I do recognize." He pressed a button. "Hey, Esther, what's up?"
Our waitress come back and started passing out drinks. I took mine and immediately had a long swallow. Ahhh, good. I smiled in spite of myself.
"What?!" Avi exclaimed into his phone, hand grabbing then quickly releasing his mug. All five of us paused in our drinking to look at him. He looked seriously alarmed. He glanced up at us. "Hey, Esther, can I put you on speaker phone? I got some friends here that would be very interested in hearing about this."
"Oh God," Chance muttered, his lips never leaving the rim of his mug.
"Tim Foust, Adam Chance, Adam Rupp, Rob Lundquist, and Austin Brown. A band called Home Free," Avi was saying to this Esther person. "This is Esther, my sister and our tour manager. Esther, you're live with Home Free."
"Um, hi," came over the phone.
"Hi Esther," we greeted her in near-perfect unison.
"Well," she began. "I can definitely tell you are another a cappella group. That was very harmonic there."
We laughed, and Austin said, "Thanks!"
"I was just calling Avi because of a very odd phone call I just received."
"A phone call?" I asked, leaning forward and clutching my mug as if for dear life.
"Yes—I don't usually take unknown numbers, but it was from Nashville, and I do have a few contacts there."
"Nashville?" I said slowly, half afraid of what she was about to say.
"Nashville, Tennessee," Esther confirmed. "It was some woman with an odd sort of name, um, Jan, no Jen... Deni.... err..."
"Jenika?" I asked nervously.
"Yes, that's it," she said. "Like I said, a different sort of name. Who is she? Do you know her? To whom am I speaking right now?
I swallowed. "I'm Tim. Jenika is my wife. She's, ahh...well, a touch mad at me right now." I reached across the table to slap at Austin for giggling at Esther's formal speech.
"It certainly seems like it," Esther remarked. "She started off polite but then ended up pretty upset and called me names."
Adam leaned forward. "Hey, this is Adam. What did she call you for?"
"What line did she call you on?" Avi asked her, sipping slowly on his drink.
"Business line. She wanted Avi's phone number."
"Mine?!" Avi exclaimed, putting the mug down. "What'd she want mine for?"
"What the hell made her think she'd just give out his phone number for, anyway?" Chance muttered, wide-eyed. "Nobody's just going to hand out celebrity's phone numbers."
"I'm sorry, could you speak up, please?" Esther requested. "I can barely hear you. And, if you would, say your name for me, please."
"Oh, uh." Chance leaned forward, a bit of beer fizz on his lip. "This is Chance—Adam Chance. I was just wondering why she thought you'd just give out his phone number to a complete stranger."
"I have no idea," Esther asserted. "Naturally, I refused, so she got, ah, a little colorful on me."
"Lovely," Avi grumbled, making a face.
"Did she say why she wanted it?" Rob asked. "Was she going to call Avi to discuss Tim's story and whereabouts?"
"She didn't say," Esther said apologetically. "And, I'm sorry, who was that?"
"Oh, sorry, Rob, I'm Rob," Rob backtracked.
Austin looked at me. "She done gone off the deep end, dude."
"Please speak up," Esther reminded us. "And introduce yourselves."
"Sorry. That was more of an aside than anything else. I was just telling Tim that his wife has gone off the deep end. And I'm Austin."
"She certainly seems...off-balance. Avi, watch out for yourself," she warned. "Do not take calls from anyone you don't know."
"I don't," he assured her as my phone rang.
I glanced down at it. "Speak of the devil."
"Avi? That you?" Esther asked irritably.
"No, that was Tim," Avi told her. "His phone is ringing now and he said 'speak of the devil'."
"Jenika," I reported, starting to excuse myself. "Hey, give me one min—"
"This is going to sound really bad of me, but can I please listen?" Esther hissed over the phone. "Avi? You hear me?"
I sat back down. Jenika would be pissed, but at this point, I didn't care. Smirking to myself, I pressed speaker phone and held a finger to my lips, telling the others to be quiet.
A wicked grin lit on Rob's and Austin's faces. Adam and Chance immediately leaned in to listen while Avi brought his phone directly to his mouth and whispered into it, telling Esther to keep quiet.
"—you be telling me 'just a minute'," Jenika was grumbling. "You say 'hello'. That is how you answer a phone, you rude inconsiderate asshole."
Rob grabbed a bar napkin and a pen that had been left behind by the previous patron and started scribbling out a message. Hopefully I'd be able to decipher it.
"I'm sorry. I was just stepping away from my friends so we could talk," I said mildly. Technically, that was the truth. I had started to step away—I just hadn't finished stepping away.
"OK, but you could have been nicer about it," Jenika gave in as Chance tapped my shoulder. He gestured to Rob's napkin. He'd written 'just who is the rude inconsiderate asshole here?'
"Right!" I mouthed at him, nodding, before telling Jenika, "Seemed acceptable to me."
"Anyway," she said. "I'm sure you're well aware, thanks to your big-mouthed friends, who are all extremely rude as well, that I called the others and they all corroborated your story."
"Mmhmm," I murmured, watching as Austin took Rob's napkin and pen.
"Course, you probably told them to say that," Jenika continued. "I tried to get ahold of some of these Pentatonix people, but their manager refused to release their phone numbers, even though I used your name. She didn't even care that I am your wife!"
I glanced up at Austin's napkin. 'We dish what we are served'. I grinned at him.
"Hmm," I muttered noncommittally at her.
"So I'm going to have to figure something else out. I'm pretty good at internet sleuthing."
Avi's eyebrows shot up and took Austin's napkin.
"Are you even listening to me?" Jenika snapped. "Or are you tuning me out again? Does anything even connect in your useless brain?"
"Yes, I'm listening," I said irritably, reading Avi's message about being unlisted.
"What'd I say?" she challenged.
"You're good at internet sleuthing and I have a useless brain," I parroted back at her, giving my phone a satisfying middle finger. Rob clamped a hand to his mouth so he wouldn't start laughing.
"Yeah," Jenika grunted. "Now tell me. Do I really matter so little to you that you'd forget to call?"
"Jenika," I began, leaning forward. "You know that's not the case. You know I love you."
"Don't feel like it," she sniffled. "I shouldn't have to hunt you down to get to you. I should be able to see you more often. I should be able to have your undivided attention for once. I shouldn't have to be second fiddle to your damn band. Your band shouldn't treat your wife like shit. I shouldn't have to beg for affection, Tim!"
"J-Jenika," I stuttered, my hand flying forward as Adam took Avi's napkin. He nodded at me when I picked up the phone and pressed it to my ear. "Baby... I'm... I'm sorry." I turned and started to walk away rom the table, drink still in hand.
"Course you are," she told me, trying to put the edge back in her voice. "You're always sorry. Well, guess what, Tim. If you're truly sorry, you're going to have to change."
"OK." I sat down on a barstool at the far end of the counter and took another long drink of my beer. "What do you need from me?"
Jenika took a ragged breath. "One. Call me. Every day. Without fail. I don't care if Rob only calls Kelsey every couple of days, or if Adam only calls his wife a few times a week. I'm not Kelsey and I'm not Ericha."
"OK. I can do that," I promised. "I can call you every morning when I get up." And I can set a phone reminder too, I thought wryly.
"That's a good start," she told me, blowing her nose. "Excuse me. OK, next. Make a concerted effort to be home more often."
"Uh..." Didn't know how I'd swing that one—I was home as much as I possibly could, given our schedule. "OK."
"Fly home if you have to," she continued.
That'd get expensive fast. Nevertheless, I told her, "OK. I'll fly home on days off."
"You spend too much time with that band anyway," Jenika informed me. "Can't you scale back? You don't need to be touring all the time."
I licked my teeth nervously. "That's how I make a living, Jenika. It supports the lifestyle we lead. It makes good money for us."
"Scale it back," she ordered. "Can you not do that for me?"
I glanced over at our table, where the guys and Avi were now joined by a somewhat uncomfortable-looking Kevin. "I can talk to them about it, I suppose. No guarantees. I'm not really the decision-maker about that, and I'm only one-fifth of the group."
"Make them," she said coolly. "Or withdraw yourself."
"Withdraw?" I exclaimed, catching Rob's attention in the process. His eyes got huge and he started shaking his head frantically at me. Austin looked up to see what he was so worked up about.
"AKA, quit," Jenika told me. "Quit that band."
"Jenika," I told her firmly. "Think about what you're asking me to do."
"Yeah," she said simply. "We can make do. Just do music as a hobby like a normal person."
"I am a normal person," I insisted, now very aware that Rob, Austin, and now Adam were now watching me every move.
"Then quit the band," Jenika said softly. "Do you love me? Do you want to make this marriage work? It's not going to work with them in the picture."
My hand was shaking so hard that I dropped my mug; it was mostly empty anyway, so no big loss. Adam was already crossing the room as I wept into the phone. "Of course I love you, J-Jenika... but seriously, I-I... th-this... you're..."
Adam's arm fell on my shoulder. "Tim. Talk to me. What's going on?"
"Jenika, please," I begged of her, Austin, Rob, and Chance jogging over. "I'll do anything. Anything but that. Don't ask that of me."
"What she ask?" Chance hissed at Adam, who shrugged.
"I'm afraid to know."
"Last I heard, Tim was shouting something about withdrawing," Rob reported, his voice shaking.
"Withdrawing from what? The Christmas program?" Austin wanted to know.
"Tim, if you have to, that's OK. We understand, right, guys?" Adam asked the others, who quickly nodded. "Go home to her. Make things right with her. That's the most important thing. We can shift Chance down or throw Avi in if we have to."
"I'm afraid I have to," Jenika told me. " 'Cause you spend three-fourths the year with them. I can't live like that! You have to quit trying to pursue music as a career! It's not working!"
"No," I choked out, my phone slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. "Please, Jenika!" I shouted uselessly down at it. "I will fly home on off days! I will make time! I will make them skim the touring schedule down! Just don't ask that of me!"
Adam's and Chance's hands firmly on my shoulder, Austin reached down to pick up the phone.
"Should I?" he whispered. "Or will I make it worse?"
I shrugged. "I dunno."
"Are those busybodies there right now?" Jenika demanded angrily. "I thought I heard Austin's nails-on-a-chalkboard voice."
Austin rolled his eyes.
"Well, I was by myself across the room, but they saw me crying and came over to see what was wrong," I said, sniffling.
"They need to mind their own fucking business!" Jenika snapped. "Tell them to go away! Tell them to leave you alone! Tell them they are nosy little fucks who need to mind their own damn business!"
"They're concerned about me, Jenika!" I yelled through my tears. "They're worried! They care!"
"They don't care about us!" she yelled right back. "They only care about their damn music! Face it—not one of you all could make it on their own! You included!"
"That's not true," I said, calmer than I felt. "I'm sure any one of us could."
"Chris fucking got out when he should have—you need to do the same! He can't do crap by himself either! He's a fucking moron who doesn't know what the hell he's doing and it shows! He'd do everyone a favor if he just offed himself!"
Adam, who'd heard every word of that, slammed his fist down on the counter, hard enough to make glasses rattle. He picked up the phone only to have Rob yank it out of his hand.
"Stop. Not now. You're angry. She said things she shouldn't have. Wait until you can talk without anything other than pure hatred in you." Rob exhaled deeply.
"I. Don't. Care," Adam said coolly. "That' s my brother she just told to off himself. What would you do if she said that about your sister?"
"I'd be mad," Rob admitted. "I just think everybody needs a cooling off period."
I yanked the phone out of Rob's hand. "Don't you talk about Chris like that!"
"I'll talk about him however I want!" Jenika hollered. "Did Adam hear it? Is Adam mad?"
"Yes and yes!" I told her. "He's ready to deck you!"
"He'd hit a woman?" she asked disdainfully.
"Well," I retracted, "he's pretty mad."
"Too bad for him." She snorted. "Tell them you're quitting the band. Tell them now."
"Jenika, don't make me do that," I begged, torn between crying and yelling obscenities at her. "Please. I love singing for a living."
"Which do you love more?" Jenika challenged. "Me or singing and the band?"
I paused, eyes flitting over Adam, being talked down by Rob. Austin looking like he would burst into tears at any moment. Chance, expressionless, hands clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
"Tell them now."
Whole body shaking, I sank down on my barstool. "Adam," I whispered. "Adam."
Rob momentarily let go of him, and Adam turned to me. "What?"
"I'm s-sorry. I-I..." My throat literally closed up on me and I couldn't say anything else for a full minute until I was able to make the massive lump go down enough for me to get out the words. "I have to quit. The band. I... I can't...be your bass anymore. I'm sorry." I fell into Rob's stunned arms. "It's... killing me... but I have to. Can't..." Austin enveloped me from behind. "...make both work. I'm so sorry.... Ch-Chance. I'm so sorry. I hate this."
Chance, still struggling to not break down, yanked my phone from me and spoke into it. "He can't say it, but I can and I will. I hate you. You're fucking killing him inside. How dare you make him choose something like this. You're heartless."
I pulled the phone back from him. Wet and slippery, I almost dropped it. Hoarsely, I spoke into the phone. "I did it. I quit."
"Thank you, Tim," Jenika sobbed. "It means a lot to me. Speaks a lot for you. I love you, Tim."
"Love you too," I whispered automatically, face awash in tears. I turned to my former band, all but Chance actively sobbing now—but Chance looked ready to lose it at any minute. "I'm sorry, guys. I love you all; you're like family. Adam, tell Chris I love him, that I appreciate everything he's done for me, and that I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. I'm sorry. I hate what I'm doing to you. I hate what I'm doing to me." I turned and left the room, my heart breaking inside of me.