Chapter 43
Paul “Rock Giant” Reed
Paul had fallen asleep with his head on Alle’s lap, while she massaged his stiff shoulder. He had numerous welt-like bruises across his body, but none of it pained him more than the realisation that Jodi had left with the Ghost Boys, and without even stopping to see if he was all right.
Unknown number.
Yeah, they could fuck right off.
It hurt to roll over. Someone had inserted at least a dozen iron spikes into his shoulder and his neck felt as if he’d spent the night as a blood donor to Lestat de Lioncourt.
He managed to press out a couple of painkillers someone had helpfully left on the pillow of the bed at the back of the tour bus, and grimaced as he was assaulted by a third wail.
He really needed to change his ringtone.
“There’d better be a bloody good reason you’re calling me,” he grouched at the caller without bothering to look to see who it was.
“Is Jodi with you?”
Lee.
“Please don’t hang up. I know you have no reason to speak to us—” He wasn’t pissed off at the rest of them, only their vocalist. All the rest of the band had done was try to stop him. “—I just want to know if she’s there. You don’t need to put her on. I’m just worried.”
Paul’s head wasn’t as online as he’d have liked, or he might have extrapolated more from what Lee was saying than his sleep deprived brain managed.
“She’s not here, mate,” he drawled. “I don’t know why you think she would be.
” Jodi had made her feelings entirely too clear.
She wanted nothing more to do with him. “Didn’t she leave with you?
” He didn’t bother asking how they’d come by his number.
Nothing stayed private these days, and equally likely Jodi had given them it.
“Yeah, but I figured, maybe when we stopped, she must have—”
“Have we stopped?” He didn’t think they’d stopped. Wasn’t any real call for them to have done so. They’d only been on the road a few hours, and they wouldn’t swap drivers until they reached the drop off point across the border in Am?l.
In any case, he’d spent years travelling around on buses, and he always woke when they stopped, even if it was only for a handful of minutes.
Still, he did a quick once over of the room, just to be sure he hadn’t missed her sitting in a corner.
No such luck. There was no cherubic Jodi-angel watching over him.
“Have you checked the loo?” Maybe she’d just needed a few minutes of peace.
“The bog’s right next to me. She’s not there.”
“Pretty sure Flugwhump’s missing, too,” a background voice said. Balin, he thought.
A feeling of deep unease swept through Paul’s aching body, adding a layer of pain he could have done without.
He eased himself into a more upright position, back to the headboard and pillow.
All was quiet around him. No voices, only the vibration of the bus in motion.
Everyone was obviously asleep. “Have you talked to your driver?”
“On it,” he heard the same background voice say. Followed by, “Driver says he thought she was back here in the bunkroom. We did stop about forty minutes ago. Her and Nash were arguing.”
Rock Giant was suddenly as wide awake as if he’d just had a thousand volts zapped into his skull. “What’s missing other than her and a cat? What about the other cats? And where’s cunt face now?”
If that bastard had done something to her, so help him Goddess, he was going to—.
“In my bunk,” Balin said. Lee had obviously put him on speakerphone. “I mean the cats. Nash is asleep, upfront. I think he’s taken Nytol, because I’ve prodded him and he barely gave a grunt.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Yeah, we’ve tried.”
“Try again.”
“I’ll do it,” Jez said, “She has different ringtones set for each of us and mine’s the loudest.” A faint purr sounded in the distance, followed by some muffled sounds of motion.
“What’s going on?” Paul demanded.
“Her phone’s here. Likewise her bank card,” Jez informed him. He could picture the Ghostie’s drummer, items in hand, standing over Lee holding the phone.
“She wouldn’t bail without those,” the latter said.
“She wouldn’t bail without all three cats.” Come to think of it, she wouldn’t bail at all, not like this. Not in the dead of night, not without a means of transport or her passport. Leastways, not by choice.
“Wake that fucking bastard up now,” he growled. “And find out what the fuck he’s done to her. And talk to your driver again. He must know something. Find out where and when you stopped.”
He wanted to believe that Nash wouldn’t abandon her in the middle of nowhere, but he didn’t trust the bastard.
Not a bit. As for the driver, either he was an accomplice or plain old thick.
What sort of moron drove off without making sure all his passengers were onboard first?
It was literally part of the driver’s job to make sure they were all there before pulling off and reporting to the tour manager if they weren’t.
“Guys,” he heard Balin call at some distance from the phone.
“What’s up?” Paul demanded.
It took far too long for Lee to answer him, and when he did, there was a definite clip of panic to his voice. “Balin just pried Jo’s engagement ring out of Curtis’s hand.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Not sure you’re gonna need to, mate. I think he might have overdone the sleeping meds. We can’t wake him up.”
**
It hurt to move, but Rock Giant got out of bed despite the devil’s pokers prodding him in a dozen areas at once and made his way to the front of the Black Halo bus.
“We need to make a stop.”
“That right?” Cave Troll replied from behind the wheel. He gave Paul a brief glance, and taking in the fact he was naked save for his boxer briefs, added, “You need a doc or summat?”
“Nah, I’m good. I need to pick up my wife.”
“You mean the one whose fiancé has probably taken a hit out on you, and who didn’t even bother to see if you were okay after you got wanged with a mic stand? Sorry, mate. Ferry to catch and a bunch of annoying arse wipes to drop off.”
“Troels, I’m asking nicely, but it’s non-negotiable. I’ve got a location. We need to stop.”
He was ready to hijack the damn bus if he had to. He rattled off the details Lee had managed to extract from the Ghosties driver, but Troels began shaking his head before he was even halfway through them. “Can’t mate, sorry.”
“Fuck the ferry.”
“T’ain’t that. Your location’s about twenty minutes back that way.” He raised a thumb over his shoulder.
“You’re fucking joking me.”
“Wish I was, man. Best I can do is pull over at the next convenient point and let you out.”
Paul wasn’t exactly sure how that would help. It wasn’t as if he could walk the fifteen or so miles back to where Jodi had been stranded in any reasonable sort of time. Not that he wouldn’t do it if another option didn’t present itself.
“Has the rust-bucket passed that point?”
The roadies’ bus was almost as nice as theirs this tour, but old habits died hard, hence the nickname for the crew bus remained. “Call them and ask.”
He did. They were past that point, too.
“Shit!” He aimed his foot at the dash but thought better of it. He needed a means of getting to her. “You gonna have to turn around.”
“That,” —Troels assured him— “isn’t happening. Road ain’t wide enough to be pulling U-turns even if I was of the mind to do one.”
He had a point, the road was currently only two lanes and most of what was off to the sides was grass and mountainside, with the occasional farmstead dotted among it accessible via dirt and gravel tracks.
“Fuck!” He did thump the partition between the driver’s booth and the tour bus kitchen.
If the buses couldn’t stop then... “Who’s driving the Danger Car? ”
Troels gave him another sidewards glance. “Tony and Sam, I think. Leastways, they’ve got the big van.”
The big van housed most of the stage equipment but also played transporter for Ash’s car he insisted on ferrying places with them. For the second time in recent history, Paul was thankful for that fact.
He tried both men, Sam picked up. They were ahead on the road. Finally, a bit of good karma. He gave a quick explanation of the situation and arranged a rough location for them to pull over and wait for them.
Troels whistled through his teeth the moment Paul hung up.
“You’re not going to be an arse about stopping, are you?”
“I’ll stop. It’ll have to be a quick drop off mind. That’s not the issue. You know they’re not going to hand you the keys, not without a written affidavit signed in blood and witnessed by every member of the band.”
Good point. He’d have to get on with negotiating that. Sure, he could attempt to argue the toss with Tony and Sam, but it’d waste precious time he’d rather prioritise for the task of finding his lady love. What state was she in out there alone in the dead of night in a foreign country?
His shoulder needed an icepack, but he bypassed the fridge-freezer without opening it.
“Go away,” Ginny moaned when he stuck his head beneath the curtains of the bunk she and Ash were occupying.
“Can’t. I need Danger Mouse for an urgent mission.”
“It’s too early, Paul.”
“I need the car.”
“Fuck off,” Ash muttered.
Paul slapped a creased orange card down on the centre of Ash’s bare chest. “Get up, goth boy. I need a ride, and I’m cashing this in, so shift your arse.”
Groaning reached him from across the aisle. Xane stuck his head out from behind his curtains. “What’s going on? What are you stomping around for?”
“I need Ash and the Danger Car. The fuckers have left Jodi stranded by the roadside.”
“Say what?” Ash squinted at Paul, his handsome face irritably distorted, but his brain coming online.
“Her fuckwit fiancé’s kicked her off the bus and left her stranded. I need to go get her. You can drive, or you can give me permission to do so.”
“You’re not driving my car. Not even if it is a rescue mission.” Ash propelled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the bunk’s edge. “Let me grab some clothes and get some feet on.”
At least he hadn’t lobbed any moronic questions about why Paul needed to run to the rescue. The shit with Nash, the rejection, none of it mattered. Of course it hurt, but none of it changed what he’d promised—that he’d always be there. And he was going to be there, just as fast as he was able.
“Paul,” Ginny said, looking him over from her horizontal position beneath the duvet. Only the top half of her face was peeping out. “You might consider doing the same. Not that the view isn’t pretty, but it’s October in the wilds. Might be a bit nippy out there.”
True. Good point. He saw to that, even though it knacked to pull a jumper over his head. By the time he and Ash stumbled down the stairs a couple of minutes later, Cave Troll was signalling to pull into a layby where Sam and Tony were already backing the Danger Car out of the truck.
“Thanks, guys,” he remembered to say, before Ash pulled a U-turn across the carriageway and pointed them north. Only then did he wish he’d had the foresight to pick up a spare fleece or something.