Until Milo came back to check on me halfway through the drive. He yanked back the curtain, and I immediately erupted in laughter. The lanky drummer had fashioned an amateur hazmat suit out of three trash bags, some clear plastic film, and a lot of duct tape.
“Luuuuuuuuke,” he said in a muffled voice. “I. Am. Your. Father.”
Then he handed me a tube of Pringles and a can of ginger ale.
“Perfect timing, because I think I can keep some food down.”
“Goooood,” he said in a raspy Darth Vader voice. “I was beginning to think you were trying to avoid our date.”
“I promise I’m not,” I replied. “I owe you a date whenever I’m healthy, whether it’s in Denver or another city. Even though you look ridiculous in all that plastic.”
“Ridiculous, or sexy?” he asked.
“You look like a serial killer.”
“Would a serial killer do this?” Milo then began doing the Macarena, sticking his hands out and dancing outside the bunks, humming the tune through his makeshift plastic suit.
I laughed so hard that my throat began to hurt again.
Milo gave me a salute, then yanked the curtain closed. I heard him stomp back to the front of the bus and shout, “Disinfect me! Quick! Before the plague gets in!”
“Disinfect you with what?” Violet asked. “You used all of the Lysol spray already.”
Milo sighed dramatically. “You never play along with any of my fun games.”
Once we were in Minneapolis, it was easier for the band to give me a wide berth. They spent a lot of time inside the concert venue and out around town rather than on the bus.
And after two more days of pounding NyQuil and cough drops, I woke up feeling better.
“I want to go!” I insisted. I was still in my bunk, but was wearing a mask while chatting with the band. “I missed the Chicago show. I don’t want to miss this one.”
“You’re overruled,” Riot said as he walked away. “Sorry. But we’ve got fifteen more shows on this tour, and the sooner you fully heal, the sooner we can stop worrying about you being contagious.”
“I haven’t had a fever since yesterday!” I insisted. “I doubt I’m contagious anymore.”
Violet shook her head. “Don’t care, shut up, lay down. Doctor Violet’s orders.”
“Doctor Violet sounds like a Clue character,” Milo said. “It was Doctor Violet with the candlestick in the dressing room.”
“I never played Clue,” I said. “My parents loved it, but it was my least favorite board game. It sat at the bottom of our game cabinet collecting dust.”
“Ah.” Milo gave an awkward shrug. “It was the only board game I had growing up.”
Violet gave him a little sideways hug. I wondered what that was about.
Then they left for the show, blowing me kisses as they went.
I really was feeling great, though—although I wasstarving. I put some clothes on, along with a mask, and walked a block to a local joint to buy a cheeseburger. After wolfing that down, I took a nice long shower. I ended up staying inside so long that I realized I would need to warn Cash about it later, since there was a limited amount of water in the tour bus’s tank.
After drying my hair and donning some fresh clothes, I felt like a new woman.
I glanced at my watch. Cherry Midnight should be playing by now. I was tempted to go backstage and watch the rest of the show, but I decided they were right. It was better if I stayed here. There would be plenty of other shows to watch.
But I still had FOMO.
Fortunately, on YouTube I found a video of the Chicago concert I’d missed. I put headphones on and started watching it on my iPad in my bunk.
It was immediately clear that Riot wasn’t at a hundred percent. But even though his voice was rough, he put a lot of energy into the performance. Moving around on stage more to make up for the sub-par vocals.
