“Gah! Tobin! What the fuck, man?”
Painted Doors’ guitar tech loosened his death grip on Avi’s ankle. “Dude. I need Pepto. Alka-Seltzer. All the things.” Tobin groaned. “I never would’ve started partying if Buck had told us we had a 2 am bus call.”
Oh hell.Their tour manager had been so busy keeping the band in line, no doubt it had slipped his mind. “Last minute decision, due to the storm coming. Sorry.”
Tobin’s head fell back onto his pillow. “Do me a solid? Hit the rest stop?”
“I’ll check the first aid kit,” Avi offered. Although by the second-to-last show of the tour, supplies like that had no doubt been plundered and pillaged. “Not going out into the cold for your sorry ass.”
If they were evenata rest stop. For all he knew, the bus driver had stopped to take an emergency dump at the side of the road.
Sure enough, he didn’t find anything stronger than a cough drop among the rations in the front of the bus. And 24/7 florescent and neon signage beyond the foggy bus windows winked promises of salvation.
Avi swore under his breath.
Back in bunk alley, Tobin dangled his wallet. Avi stalked back, swiping it from his crew member’s limp grasp. “You owe me.”
The world felt frozen, soundless but for snow crunching under his slides and the highway’s faint hum behind him.Out of the silent planet,Avi mused, trudging toward the glowing rest stop.
Inside was an explosion of sound and color by comparison. Mariah claimed she didn’t want a lot for Christmas over the tinny speakers as Avi hit the convenience store, pulling all the essential over-the-counter meds he could find and juggling them to the counter.
Tobin’s wallet had a lone fifty in its billfold, so Avi added a chocolate Santa, a Monster Meat beef jerky stick (certified Kosher according to its packaging) and a LiquiDoze sleep shot drink to the pile as his finder’s fee.
“Take one to two hours before bedtime for maximum restful effect,” he murmured, reading the small print on the label. Melatonin, Vitamin B-6, and something else he couldn’t pronounce?Hell, I’d take a horse tranquilizer if the reststop store sold them.He downed the 2.5 oz bottle right there at the cash register.
“$34.85.” The cashier didn’t question his choices. Nor did she give him a second glance as she slowly made change for her sole customer. Avi realized it was the first time in a long time hehad walked, unescorted and unrecognized, anywhere.4:40 am for the win.
“Merry Christmas.” The cashier’s mumble was on autopilot, something she no doubt said a hundred times per day during December. Avi never begrudged anyone for assuming, especially in middle America.
But he was looking forward to New York, the Matzo Baller, and shedding his public persona. Oh, and a plateful of Talia’s bomb-ass latkes.
“Yeah, you too.”
“Avi? Avi Wolfson! Omigod!”
Avi had just stashed things into his hoodie pockets, ready to brave the cold when a woman intercepted him. She was navigating a groggy boy in footy pajamas from the restrooms.
“It’s really you, isn’t it?” She laughed breathlessly. “My husband’s going to kick himself for staying in the car. Can I get a picture? Danny, wake up and take Mommy’s picture.”
Avi hid the Pepto Bismol bottle behind his back and leaned in, throwing a peace sign for the camera. Best not to touch the ladies, although they never hesitated putting hands on him.
Sure enough, the woman giggled, sliding her arms around his waist. Her son, still half-asleep, expertly aimed and captured the moment. Generation Alpha in full effect.
Avi fished a couple of custom guitar picks from the pocket of his track pants. “Happy holidays, little dude.”
The kid yawned, turning them over in his palm as his mom steered him toward the parking lot. “Happy Hanukkah, Avi Wolfson!” She called, waving.
Avi pulled his hood up against the wind as he exited toward the truck lot and the waiting bus.
Except. There was no bus waiting.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
As he tried not to panic, five more things flashed that he could see with his mind’s eye:
His phone on its charger in his bunk.
His own wallet, stowed in his winter coat onboard.
