Twelve:
“Ignore it,” Sarah mumbled when JC paused in his exploration of the terrain beneath her blouse because someone was pounding on the door. He nodded and happily went right back to what he had been doing.
The pounding started again. Then the phone rang. Then JC’s cell phone cried out for his attention. He muttered curses under his breath and flung the door open. “Oh, good, you are here,” Gina said. “Look, I’m sure I’m interrupting and you can kill me later, but I thought you should know that Stacy is gone and if we don’t find her soon, Chris is going to cry.” She started to move away from the door but Sarah jumped up, running her hands through her hair in an attempt to calm it.
“That doesn’t sound like Stace. She must be really upset over something. And why is Chris going to cry over her leaving?”
“Because he likes her. He thinks she left because she didn’t want to be around him.”
“Wait a minute, she said you . . . um, that you were staying in his room . . . and, um . . .”
“Well, they don’t get me my own room. I usually just stay with whoever has an extra bed. I don’t see what that has to do with . . . OHHHH! You mean you think . . . and she thinks . . . oh no, oh my goodness . . .” Sarah was confused when Gina collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.
“You sure are taking this well.”
“Sarah, give what she said time to sink in. Gina and Chris are not dating. She’s been setting him up with women since she came on tour,” JC said.
“I guess I better go find her. She probably went home,” Sarah said. She looked regretfully at JC, knowing this meant they probably wouldn’t see each other again before he left.
“I have a better idea. Give me her address and phone number, and some directions would help too. Oh, does she like to dance?” Sarah looked at Gina, momentarily awed by her ability to say so much in so few breaths. She shook her head and gave her the information she wanted, wondering what the other woman was up to.
“All right, CK, get your rear in gear,” Gina said as she opened the door to Chris’ room.
“Huh?”
“Go get dressed to go out. I am going to go grab Lance and Joey and maybe even Justin if he promises to behave, then we are all going to go get Stacy and check out that other club, the one we didn’t get to the other night.”
“B-but--”
“No buts, just move!” She tossed him a shirt and a pair of pants from his bag and pointed to the bathroom.
“I, OK . . .”
“Nice one, Lola,” a voice said from the doorway. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning around. Joey was standing there, leaning casually against the door frame. He looked so good it made her knees weak, but she was not about to let him know that. “I guess great minds think alike, because I was just coming to see if you wanted to go with Lance and Justin and me.”
“Great minds huh? What, did Lance send you?”
“Oh, you wound me,” he said, clasping his heart and stumbling melodramatically into the hall. She heard Lance and Justin laughing from behind him and poked her head out.
“OK, which one of you is going to loan me a bathroom so I can get ready?” Joey already had a key in his hand and was holding it out to her. He wiggled his eyebrows and she shook her head, picking up her bag. “In that case, I think I’ll use Lance’s room,” she said, eliciting laughter from Justin and Lance and making Joey frown.
“Hey, can I wash your back?” Lance asked.
“Can I wash your front?” Justin added with a leer.
“Can I . . . wait a minute, there’s nothing for me to wash,” Joey pouted. She disappeared into Lance’s room, laughing and leaving all of them in the hall. She reappeared fifteen minutes later, showered, dressed, and ready to go.
They stepped off the elevator and headed for the doors, but stopped when they realized Chris was no longer with them. He had frozen in place a few feet from the elevators and was staring at something none of them could see. As they approached him, the thing which had caught his eye became visible. He was so wrapped up in staring at Stacy that he didn’t realize he had been left, or that those who had left him had returned.
Someone nudged him. When that didn’t work, a hand rested in the middle of his back and shoved, hard. He pitched forward but managed to stop the fall before it became too obvious. He heard the sniggering behind him but chose to ignore it . . . for now. She hadn’t seen him yet. She was turned to the side and her head was bent over a magazine. He tried to say her name but all that came out was a small, essentially inaudible squeak. He shook his head, swallowed, took a breath, and tried again. “Stacy?” She turned, looked at him. What was he supposed to do now?
“Ask her,” a voice -- Lance’s -- hissed.
“Um, we were all going to go out and get a few drinks, maybe dance . . . um, do you, I mean, you know, would you like to come along?”
She thought about what he was saying, concentrating on the words as the forced their way through her foggy brain. She decided she must be hallucinating. Yes, that was it, she was imagining all of it and he wasn’t really there, so what could be the harm in indulging the fantasy, just for a while. “Oh, sure, why not . . .” she said. He beamed, positively glowing. It wasn’t until they were in the car that it really registered: this was no hallucination. She was on a semi-date with Chris Kirkpatrick and the woman she had assumed was his girlfriend was perched on Lance’s lap, and leaning on Joey’s shoulder as she whispered in his ear. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all.
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