6. Austin
6
AUSTIN
One mile out from Anchorage, I glance over at my wife Charlie who is sleeping with her head resting against the window just as the walkie-talkie crackles to life.
“Austin, what's your twenty? Over,” Toby calls over the line.
“Two trucks behind you, Tobes. Over.”
“Really? I can't see you. Over,” he replies.
Considering I'm looking right at Toby's truck right now, I'm starting to wonder if he's fit to drive. It's not like we're hard to miss either. Charlie took great pleasure in decorating the hell out of our vehicle to try and win the first challenge.
Of course, the Sunday School Sallys were overjoyed at yet another Christmas competition being created. Most of us men just did what our wives told us to do because if there's something we've learned over the years, it's that nothing makes our Ones–and their families–happier than the holidays and decorating. Oh, and winning.
Red joins in on the conversation. “I'm drivin' right behind him, Tobes. Not sure how you can miss 'em given that there are giant reindeer antlers on their roof. Over.”
“Let me look,” Toby adds. “Oh yeah, there you are. Just checkin'. Over.”
I frown. “Um, why? Over.”
“Cause as the winner of the decoratin' challenge, Dee and I decided that Cora and Rhett won the right to choose the next challenge. And they chose somethin' good. Over,” he explains.
“Well, hell,” I mutter under my breath. Checking on Charlie, I find her awake and bright, beautiful-eyed.
“I say we have a good ol' fashioned Christmas sing-off. Over,” Cora calls out.
I can’t help but smile, knowing full well that my wife could out-sing anyone in this convoy—then again, I may very well be biased on that front.
“I remember Mom and Red telling us about a karaoke bar they went to in Anchorage,” Char replies. “It'll be fun.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I reply before lifting the walkie-talkie to my mouth. “Hey, Red. Have you been practisin' your Kenny Rogers? Over.”
“No. Hell, no. Get that idea out of your mind right now, Austin Graham. Over. “ the man replies.
Toby groans over the airwaves. “It's always the older members of our family who are the slowest to adopt new ideas.”
“Hey. As the oldest in this little menagerie of a family we've got goin' here, I take offense to that,” Ruthie grumbles over the air. “Over.”
“See, Red! Even the Sallys can understand the basics of walkie-talkie etiquette. Over,” Tobes replies.
“Copy that, Christmas six,” Red says. “Doesn't mean I'm gonna be caught dead singin' on stage again in front of a bunch of strangers. That was a one-time deal. Over.”
“Aww, c'mon Red. You know you wanna sing with meeee,” Mags says sweetly over the line.
“Ugh. All of y'all are gonna be the death of me, I swear. Over,” Red grumbles.
“What were you thinkin', Christmas two,” Miss Dottie's voice calls over the line. “Oh, and over. Did I get that right this time, Toby?”
“Copy that, Miss Dottie. Over,” my brother shoots back, sounding over the moon that at least one of us got it right.
“Good. Good. Uh, over,” she replies.
“Let's be clear. You want us to have a Christmas song sing-off tonight at the Singin' Canary? Over,” Mags asks as Red's unmistakable groan fills the line.
Charlie eyes are dancing now as she holds her hand out for the handset. “I think it's high time we all heard how good Mom and Red are at singin', and the rest of us too. It'll be a hell of a lotta fun and a good way to get us all in the Christmas mood before we hit Rainbow Springs tomorrow to surprise George the gnomery owner. So good idea, Cora. Who's in? Or are y'all too chicken to embarrass yourselves in the name of a bit of holiday hilarity? Over.”
“Ignore my husband, Charlie Bear. We'll be there with bells on. Over,” Mags says.
“Count us in!” Star declares enthusiastically over the walkie-talkie. “Over. Sorry, Tobes!”
“You're on, Christmas four,” Miss Frankie chimes in from the Sallys's radio. “I've been known to hit a high note or two in my day so the Sally Forths are in too. Over”
“We're in, obviously. Over,” Rhett replies.
“Count Christmas five in too. Over,” Lee replies.
That just leaves the master of ceremonies now. “You game, Toby? Over,” Charlie challenges.
“Hell, yeah. I'm gonna out-Christmas the whole damn lot of you. Over.”
“Copy that,” we all say one after the other.
“Should we talk about where we're all stayin' tonight? Over,” Rhett asks curiously. “Mags?”
“How 'bout you let Red and I surprise you with that when this convoy rolls into Anchorage. Y'all can focus on tonight's festivities at the Singin' Canary and think about what songs y'all are gonna sing. I can guarantee you, this is gonna be one for the books!”
When Mags said we'd be surprised by our accommodations for the night, the very last thing I expected was a seventies revival motel that has me worried it's straight off the set of Saturday Night Fever.
The exterior of the motel is painted in vibrant shades of orange and yellow, with neon lights flickering around the sign that reads “The Disco Inn.”
As we park our decorated trucks in front of the motel, I can't help but exchange a bewildered glance with Charlie. It's clear that whatever their motivations, Mags and Red have truly outdone themselves with this surprise.
As we step inside the lobby, the faint smell of stale cigarette smoke and a mix of cheap cologne fill the air. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, casting glittering specks of light across the room. The receptionist, a woman in her fifties with a beehive hairdo and hoop earrings, greets us with a toothy smile.
“Welcome to The Disco Inn, groovy tunes. Are y'all lookin' for a room for the night?” she asks in a thick accent that I can't quite place.
Red steps forward, flashing a charming smile and holding out his hand for the woman to shake. “Red Grayson. My wife called you from the road. We're the big group from Bull Mountain ranch that's stayin' here tonight.”
“Ah, yes! We've been expectin' you,” the receptionist replies, her accent becoming more pronounced as she speaks. She rummages through a stack of keys behind the counter before handing a bunch of key tags to Red.
“Here you go, darlin'. Rooms are all ready for ya. Hope y'all enjoy your stay at the Disco Inn,” she says with a wink and a smile.
Red hands out the keys, he and Mags sharing a suspiciously conspiratorial look before we all go our separate ways to find our rooms.
As we reach ours, I look down into Charlie's gorgeous gaze and smile. That calm feeling disappears the moment we open the door and stop dead in our tracks at the sight of the… interesting decor in front of us.
“Oh my god!” Charlie says before dissolving into giggles. “This place is a trip!”
“Holy hell!” we hear Rhett holler from the room next to us.
“Enjoy!” Mags calls out, laughing from further down the balcony.
Charlie grabs my hand and drags me inside, closing the door behind us. “Come on, let's see what else this room has in store for us.”
I shouldn't be surprised, the decor is just as eccentric as the outside. There are fringed lamp shades, shag-pile carpet, vinyl armchairs, and a comforter in a shade of orange that should've stayed in the seventies where it belonged. There's even a peace sign hung above the headboard.
Moving behind my struck-still wife, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back against my chest. “Looks like we've stepped into a time machine,” I say, pressing a kiss to the side of Charlie's head as she continues to laugh at our surroundings.
“I don't know if I should be amused or slightly terrified.” She turns in my arms and shoots me a grin.
“Well, at least the bed looks comfortable,” I say, nodding towards the king-sized bed.
Charlie raises an brow mischievously. “Are you suggesting we test it out?”
Laughing against her lips, I give her a soft kiss. “That's a fantastic idea, wife,” I say, loving her squeal as I scoop her up bridal style and carry her to the bed.
She smiles up at me as I hover my body over hers. “I can't believe Mom and Red stayed here.”
I dip my head to pepper kisses down her throat. “Not sure I want to talk about your mother right now, Char.”
She whimpers. “Hmm… me either.”
“Good. Now let's make a better memory in this room, yeah?”
And for the next while, I don't care about anything other than my wife.