Time Out (4 page)

“I’m just going to sit over there at that picnic table and wait,” I added; realizing how crazy I must have sounded to the man as I thumbed over my shoulder at the table in front of a food vendor.

Hawkins wouldn’t leave the venue without me, I told myself as I patiently waited at the wooden picnic table. Still, I was getting increasing anxious with every passing second now that the venue
crew were
starting to clear out anyone left over from the concert. Surely Riley wondered where I was too by now, I reasoned.

From the picnic table, I could see the band’s crew still working on wrapping up everything when I got an idea. Surely I could get a message to Hawkins through them or at least die trying of embarrassment. Getting up, I realized I was about to do something I never thought that I would ever do; work the venue crew to get closer to the band.

When I approached the front of the stage again, I noticed a few of the girls were still working it for the crew. Except this time the red head felt confident enough to take a knock at my choice of clothing.

“Well, she’s not going to get backstage looking like
that
.”

“Actually you’d be surprised how affective it is.” I sighed under my breath and watched her expression twist up in confusion before turning to one of the ripped security guards.

“I need to get a message to Hawkins.”

“Ha—yeah, well get in line because we all are,” the red head added saucily.

“No you don’t understand,” I ignored the girl as I continued to talk to the security guard. “I
know
Hawkins.”

“Oh you
know
Hawkins,” the girl snorted, like yeah right, and honestly I thought I was going to strangle her if she didn’t shut up soon because I didn’t know what I was going to do if I was left stranded all alone at the Alpine Valley Music Theater without a penny to my name.  

“I was…” I grappled for an explanation that would make me stand out from the other groupies. “I was on the stage with Hawkins tonight.” I snapped my fingers at my quick thinking. “You must have seen it.”

I looked at the security guard for understanding though I couldn’t help but notice that the red head had finally gone silent at the mention of this little tidbit.

“So that’s what this all about,” the crew member finally spoke. “You had a moment with the singer on the stage and you think that means he must want to see you
now
.”

“No—that’s not what I was trying to say. I’m Joie Hall, you might have heard of me.” I momentarily cringed at the wording, but how else was I going to explain it. “I’m the one who verbally fought with Hawkins on
Twitt
—” I continued until he held up a hand stopping me.

“Listen, I get it. You want to hook up with the lead singer of the band,” he said like a true male chauvinist.

“I think we’re past that point,” I sighed under my breath because the smartass in me just couldn’t resist.

“But you’re out of luck; word is Hawkins’ tour bus just took off.”

“
What
?” Carrot top and I hissed in unison though I thought if anyone should be pissed it was me. 

“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” he shrugged. “And, I hate to say this, but it’s time for you girls to go.” 

Completely dumbfounded, once again I found myself standing there in shock. I didn’t know if it was the seriousness of the situation or what (meaning that I didn’t have a vehicle to drive away in, a cell to make a phone call, or any money in my pockets) but I resorted to an all-time low by flailing my arms over my head to try to get the attention of someone who actually worked for the band on the stage up above.

Where was Woodley when you needed him? And damn it, why didn’t I know any of their real names?
Though I knew full well that Woodley, like Harrison and Hampton, had been fired as a safety precaution after Hawkins’ personal bodyguard, Wayne, helped Cyrus carry out his plan to kill the singer.

“Alright helicopter arms, let’s keep it moving,” another crew from the venue began to round us up like a bunch of cattle until I was slowly forced out of the view of the stage.

“You don’t understand,” I went to say when I realized there were only so many times I could play the ‘I’m with the band’ card before I started to look like ‘I was nuts.’

“I need to make a phone call because my
friends
left without me.” And who, by the way, I wanted to add, were going to really get it when I saw them again.

The man, who was in his mid-forties, and sporting a long dark ponytail, looked at me like he had heard it all before and why should he care?

“I don’t live here,” I confessed the truth. “And I don’t have any way of getting back to my home in Pennsylvania. And…and,” I thought quickly. “My mom’s going to be really upset and scared when she finds out I’m stranded here all alone.”

Ain’t
that the truth I thought with a big ole
sigh.
Though, I seriously hoped that it didn’t come down to that. She already thought so little of Hawkins.

I didn’t know if it was the sincerity in my voice that made the man’s brown eyes
soften
with the confession, but I couldn’t be any more grateful than I was when he nodded, “We have a phone in the office.”

“I thought you said you knew Hawkins?” The red head added behind us, who I didn’t realize was eavesdropping in on the conversation. For a second, the crew member looked skeptically from her back to me.

“I said that I wouldn’t mind meeting him,” I lied. “Not that I know him,
know him
.” I plastered a smile on my face for the man who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was sit around and chitchat with a bunch of silly girls.

“That’s not what I remember,” the red head continued relentlessly as the man turned to lead the way to the office.  

“Why don’t you go back to high school and make something of yourself, huh?” I hissed in a low voice for only her to hear, and for a second I thought ‘oh hell, I was turning into my mother.’

I spun back around to follow after the crew member as he led the way up the dark paved pathway to the side of the pavilion seats and lawn. Passing food and drink vendors to our left, we neared the opening of the pavilion gates. The man’s fast pace slowed so he could enter through a door to a small building off to the left side of the ticketing booths.

Inside the office was a booth blocking off the entryway to the room in the back which was filled with desks. A guy who appeared to be not much older than me looked up from his laptop behind the counter.

“Found another one who needs to use the phone,” the crew member said gruffly and gave me a little nod before he exited the office again.

Now that I was here, I realized that I didn’t know anyone’s number off by heart. I guess it was one of the disadvantages of having modern technology that dialed all the numbers for me. Unfortunately for me, my mom’s number was the only one I could remember. And in all honesty, if it came down to me looking crazy and getting locked up in a mental ward or calling my mom, I was going to go for the insane asylum every time.

“Can I help you?” the guy practically groaned with boredom. He raised an eyebrow, prompting me to answer, but as I debated back and forth how best to break the news to him, his upper lip began to curl like I was something that the cat had drug in that was taking up his precious time.

“I need to make a phone call,” I finally explained. “Rick,” I added after looking down at the name badge hanging around his neck. 

“Here,” he pulled back the cord of a black landline telephone and then slapped it down on top of the counter.

“Yeah, about that,” I stalled. “I’m sure you guys have the number on record somewhere, or at least I hope so.”

“O—
kay
?” he said doubtfully.

“I need to get in touch with someone from the band,” I briefly closed my eyes because I think it pained me more to say it than for him to have to hear it.

“The band?” he repeated like he hadn’t heard me correctly the first time.

“Yep,
the
band, or someone who can contact the band,” I nodded.

“Grimm Brother’s Band?”
He slowly started to smile like I was the first fascinating person he had run into all night and when I say fascinating, I mean like go down in the books as the craziest person he had ever met or at least made the craziest request he had ever heard. 

“And you are?” His grin grew wider with the possibilities.

Rolling my eyes, partly at myself and partly at Gwyneth for getting me into this mess in the first place, I confessed, “Joshua Hawkins’ girlfriend.” As if saying his full name set me apart from the rest of the crazy fans. Though I did notice it seemed to roll nicely off of Gwyneth’s tongue. 

“Oh…
now
—I understand,” he said mockingly like it was taking everything in him not to laugh in my face. “And you need
my
help why?”

“I lost my cell phone,” I nodded.

“Well—this is going to go down as my best tweet ever,” he smiled to himself as he looked back down at his laptop.

“Tweet?”
I felt my face pinch with the realization. “Like as in Twitter?”

“Ah—yeah,” he emphasized like he was talking to an idiot as he began to type something fluidly along the keyboard.

“Oh my god, that’s it!” I squealed gleefully. “I don’t have to call Hawkins. I can just tweet him a message.”

“Yeah
anyone
who has an account can tweet him, but I doubt he’ll answer you. Famous people rarely do—” he began to say when a thought seemed to slowly dawn on him, and judging by the crooked grin on his face, it was at my expense.

“But then again you are his
girlfriend
.” His eyes lit up at mention of this.

“Right, so hand over the computer
hot stuff
,” I glared down at him; feeling confident now that I had my answer.

“Maybe you can get me his autograph while you’re at it,” he continued to mock me as he turned the computer around for me to log on. Thankfully, Riley had set up a Twitter account for me weeks ago when Hawkins was making negative comments about me on the website. I don’t know how I managed to have over a hundred thousand followers when I, or rather Riley, had only made two official tweets ever. I didn’t even have an image, besides the standard egg shape avatar, to go along with comments I tweeted, but then again maybe Hawkins’ fan were optimistic that I’d start tweeting the way I used to blog about him.

Once I logged on, I began to write Hawkins a direct message which no one would be able to see but him, or at least I hoped so. Thanks to Riley, I knew I only had a limit of about one hundred and forty-four characters that I could use to send him a message, so I kept it short.

“This is Joie,” I typed. “I lost my cell. I was left behind at Alpine. Please call me at… what’s the number for this place?” I looked over top of the laptop to ask ‘Rick,’ who was watching on skeptically from his swivel chair.

“262-642-0096,” he droned as I punched in the numbers along the keyboard and then added for my own self-esteem at the end of the message. “Thanks, love
ya
!”

I then sent Hawkins a public message, which anyone could read or at least that’s how Riley had explained it to me.

“Hawkins, its Joie. Check your direct messages.” I hit the enter key and watched as my tweet went public.

I couldn’t help but smile smugly as the little punk took his laptop back. That was until the first couple of minutes went by and we still hadn’t received a telephone call. I really hoped that Hawkins hadn’t gone to bed yet or else I was going to have to start thinking of a Plan B, and I really,
really
didn’t want to think of a Plan B.  

“I guess your boyfriend’s busy,” ‘Rick’ added snidely.

“So—do you know any good hotels around here?” I asked brightly when the phone suddenly rang. I went to quickly grab up the phone, but Mr. Skeptic beat me to it.

“Hel-lo,” he winked at me as though he couldn’t wait to see how this played out. I knew I was safe though when his body went from rocking back in his office chair to jolting forward and speaking in a more professional manner.

“Ah, yes sir, we have her right here for you. And let me say what an honor it. . .” I grabbed the phone out of his hand before he could finish kissing up.

“Hey,” I said while cutting my eyes at the office boy to let him know he lost his cool points.

“Joie, is that you?” Hawkins’ familiar voice instantly made me throw my head back with relief.

“Thank god—yeah it’s me,” I sighed like the weight of the world had been taken off my shoulders. “I lost my cell phone and couldn’t remember you’re number. Do you know how hard it is to dial 411 when you need to talk to a rock star?” I half laughed. 

“Only
you
wouldn’t have it memorized by now,” he said and judging by the tone in his voice I knew that he was smiling. “Do you know there are girls out there who would have had it tattooed to their body by now?”