Chapter Three:Water that Bush
JC was making me nervous. What the hell could she be doing over there? Leigh Anne seemed curious as well. From my vantage point on stage I could see her lean in, attempting to see JC’s notebook. JC was having none of it. She protected the secret contents in a variety of was. The most interesting of which was when she wasn’t writing. She parked her boobs on it, and not even nosy Leigh Anne was going to attempt to circumvent that.
As we started the next song I caught a glimpse of JC, furiously scribbling. I couldn’t hear over the crowd but Leigh Anne must have reached her point of saturation. With precision timing she made a move for the notebook. Silly woman. How could she think to stand a chance against J “Little Hitler” C? I’ll bet she has a bruise where JC elbowed her.
Nick!” AJ has the talent of being able to scream in a whisper. This can come in handy when you are trapped under someone’s bed while they are having sex on it. And no, I don’t care to explain that. “Pay attention! You just missed a line, Brian had to cover.”
“Sorry.” I shifted my attention back to the task at hand. Making 30,000 females scream is not as easy as you would think. It takes hard work, perseverance, sweat, and many months of pelvis swivel practice. This is of the utmost importance. One wrong pelvis thrust can put a man out of commission for weeks. One should also be aware that this pisses off girlfriends, at least until you give up the Visa card.
“Thank you! We love you!” Go guys, gush! Really, we mean it. But the first week back had been a bit hard on me. Being in the hospital for five days, and then taking it easy for three more had left me out of shape; which, if you must know, happens faster than the speed of light. “Out of shape” waits in dark corners to jump on me. Some people attract colds, I attract lazy.
I was delighted to be back at the hotel, under the hot shower. Lordy, lordy, lordy. It felt fine. Nothing better, more relaxing, private than a shower in one’s very own personal hotel room. Yes sir. There’s nothing...
“Hey Nick!”
“Hey JC.” I wasn’t even surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised.
“How long are you going to take in there?”
“Just a few more minutes.”
“How many more minutes?”
“Well, I don’t have a watch on, but ...”
“Here, use mine!”
“That’s OK, I don’t ...”
“Really! It can go underwater. See?” And I did. The helpful little sprite pulled back the shower curtain and held out her watch.
“JC!”
“No, really Nick. Water won’t hurt it at all.”
“JC ...”
“My watch will survive.”
“Good. You may not.” Off the chest, off the chest.
“Excuse me?”
“GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” I felt a declarative statement was needed.
“Well.” She looked upset. “There’s no need to yell.”
“Sorry. JC?”
“Yes?”
"I’m nude, uncomfortable, wet, cold, pick one! GET OUT!”
“No beating about the bush, I see.”
"Nope.”
“That’s very healthy, Nick. I’ll leave.” Thank you. I pulled the curtain closed as she walked towards the door. “Oh, Nick?” Should I? Shouldn’t I? What the hell. You only live once.
“Yea?”
“Nice bush.”
I almost tore the curtain to shreds getting out of the tub, but she was gone. Too fast today, but there is always tomorrow.