My Favorite Band Does Not Exist

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  "Sounds good to me." Eunice scribbled on the clipboard. "Now, if these other two gentlemen have—"

  "I've also sung with several symphony orchestras," Loving continued.

  "Yes, thank you," said Eunice. "I've already written your—"

  "And I starred in the touring company production of—"

  "What about you, sir?" Eunice said to Bulab.

  Loving huffed and glared at Bulab, who ignored her.

  "I sing along with my car stereo."

  "Perfect." She scribbled some more. "And you?"

  "I have no musical interest or ability whatsoever," said Scholar.

  "You're in." Eunice made a final note, then attached the pen to her clipboard with finality. With one yin-yang-painted fingernail, she flipped a switch on the box on her belt and spoke into the tiny microphone that wrapped around from the headset's earpiece to her mouth. "This is Eunice. I've got our backup singers."

  Loving laced her fingers together and beamed at Reacher. "This is so exciting."

  "Yeah?" Eunice listened to her headset earpiece. "Okay. All right. No-no, that's fine. No, that's ... we'll get started right away. Got it." She switched off the box and grinned. "Listen up, everybody. I'm supposed to get you people suited up and onstage in fifteen minutes."

  "This will be something to remember." Vengeful smiled at Reacher. "Your mother and I will be part of your world debut."

  "I can't wait." Reacher forced a smile with great effort.

  "Hector!" said Eunice. "Take these four to dressing room A. Tell Eville she needs to have them ready to go on in fifteen."

  Hector frowned. "Who?"

  "Dressing room A. Now go-go-go!" She shooed them all away, then spun to face Reacher. "Andyou, come with me!"

  "We'll try not to upstage you, son!" called Vengeful as Hector herded him and the others toward an exit tunnel.

  "We'll try not to steal the spotlight!" Loving added.

  Even as they said it, Reacher knew they would do the exact opposite if given the chance.

  As they disappeared into the exit, Reacher followed Eunice through another tunnel that led back to the concourse under the seats. They walked along the curve of the concourse a little ways, then crossed the lane and hurried through an open gate in the chainlink fence that circled the amphitheater. A yellow-shirted guard on the other side waved as they hustled past him.

  "So, Stage Manager Eunice," said Reacher as he trailed her across the parking lot. "Will the concert happen out here? For that matter, where is here?" He spread his arms wide. "What's with the blue sky and green grass?"

  Eunice headed straight for a 1960s-era green Volkswagen Beetle that was parked nearby. "Get in." She threw open the driver's side door and ducked inside.

  Reacher opened the passenger's door and hesitated. "Is the rest of the band here? You said you had a hard time tracking them down, but does that mean you did track them down?"

  Eunice started the engine. "I can take you to them, or I can take you to someone else. Someone you've been wanting very badly to meet."

  "Who?"

  When she told him, he dropped down into the seat without another moment of hesitation. She threw the car into gear and sped out of the amphitheater's parking lot.

  IDEA had never thought of himself as brave, but there he was, with his arms tied behind his back, fighting a man with a gun.

  Eurydice Tarantella had gotten things rolling by stopping Lifter from hitting her in the head with a shovel. Whoever she really was—two-faced reverse twin of Eunice; maybe Eunice herself in disguise—her reflexes had turned out to be lightning fast, her aim perfect, her strength surprising.

  She'd spun around at Idea's warning, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her mop and hoisting it up out of the bucket. She'd swung the mop around in an arc, spattering Daddy Naysayer and Planter with filthy water.

  Lifter had gotten worse than a shower, though. She'd smacked him full in the face with the gray mop head, interrupting his charge.

  As the mop struck Lifter's face, Eurydice had lashed back a sneakered foot, kicking the bucket toward Daddy and Planter. It slammed into Daddy's shins with a crack, launching the gray water all over them.

  She'd then shoved Lifter back with the mop, and he'd dropped the shovel and tripped over a curb, tumbling down onto the parking lot pavement.

  In the men's room, Daddy had quickly recovered. Knocking aside the bucket, he'd charged outside and leaped onto Eurydice's back, wrapping his arms around her throat.

  She had flipped the old man over her head and onto the ground with no trouble, but his attack had given Planter time to fix her in his rifle sights. It was then that Idea had gotten brave.

  Realizing Eurydice was about to be shot, he'd impulsively thrown himself against Planter. Instead of pulling the trigger, Planter had fallen against the wall, then shoved Idea away and swung the rifle barrel around to aim at his chest.

  Luckily, a shout from outside had gotten Planter's attention just then. Stealing a quick glance, Idea had seen that Lifter and Eurydice were having a sword fight with the shovel and mop. While Planter watched the battle, the rifle shifted, and Idea was in the clear.

  That was why, now, he ducked his head and hurled himself at Planter. His hands were tied, but he still managed to sweep aside the rifle and drive a shoulder into Planter's chest, knocking the wind out of him.

  Idea drew back and flung himself forward again, heaving his full weight into Planter's chest and abdomen. The next time he pulled back, though, Planter came to life, kicking and swinging.

  He landed a good one with his steel-toed boot. Idea stumbled back, falling over the toilet and cracking his head against the wall.

  Cursing, Planter jammed his rifle butt into Idea's gut. "You will pay for that, brother." He threw in another blow for good measure.

  Wincing in pain, Idea looked out the open door. He saw Daddy sneaking up on Eurydice as she blocked another strike from Lifter's shovel with her mop.

  "The old man's right behind you!" he shouted.

  "No fair helpin'." Taking off his orange ball cap, Planter leaned down and placed it on Idea's head. "Now mind your own business." He yanked the cap down over Idea's face.

  Planter left him there like that, wedged between the toilet and the wall with his hands bound, unable to remove the sweaty hat. Idea strained to listen, trying to piece together what was happening. He heard shouts, clatter, grunts, rustling—but, thankfully, not the gunshot that he dreaded.

  Unfortunately, the cap did more than block his view of the fight. Pulled tightly over his nose and mouth, it heated up as his exhaled breath collected inside it. His face felt warmer with each passing moment, and breathing became more difficult. The fiery orange color just seemed to make matters worse, reinforcing the sensation of building heat.

  Then, all of a sudden, the cap seemed to catch fire for real.

  For a moment, Idea's field of vision was filled with a wall of flame. Orange tongues of fire danced and flickered, radiating intense heat. Beyond the flames, he glimpsed what he thought were trees and rolling hills, spreading out far below him. It was as if he were flying, looking down at a landscape as he passed over it ... a landscape shrouded by a wall of flame.

  Or maybe, he thought, the wall of flame wasn't so far away. The heat, after all, was intense.

  Maybe the flames surrounded him instead of shrouding the landscape. Maybe they were part of him.

  As if he were Fireskull.

  The vision brought a new possibility to mind. With Eurydice's help, he'd survived the fight with Daddy Naysayer, Planter, and Lifter. So maybe he wasn't doomed to die in a book about his own life, like he'd thought. Maybe his destiny awaited in the pages of a different book, one he was reading, one with striking similarities to aspects of his own life experiences.

  The fact that he was picturing himself in Fireskull's body, in Fireskull's world, seemed to back up this theory. It sent his Deity Syndrome into instant overdrive, making him spin out of control in his flight
over the landscape.

  Then the wall of flame disappeared. Eunice Truant smiled down at him, holding the orange cap in her hand.

  "Eunice?" said Idea. "What happened to Eurydice?"

  Eunice's eyes widened and she giggled. "Whoops!" Then she stuffed the ball cap back over Idea's face.

  A second later, the cap again lifted, this time revealing dark-haired Eurydice's smiling face. "Peek-a-boo!" she said. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

  "Man." Idea looked around, but he saw no sign of Eunice in the room. "That was just weird."

  "Tell me about it." She helped him to his feet. "How those three idiots manage to run a lawn mower, let alone a dairy farm, is beyond me."

  Idea looked outside as she untied his wrists. "Where are they, anyway?"

  "In that dumpster over there." She cracked her gum twice. "I figured it was the best place for them."

  Sure enough, Idea could see arms and legs hanging over the side of the big black dumpster across the parking lot.

  "By the way." Eurydice slipped the rope from his wrists and tossed it in a corner. "Thanks for the assist."

  Idea brushed off his black button-down shirt. He was surprised it hadn't gotten torn in the fight. "You beat all three of them?"

  "One was an old-timer," she said. "The other two were morons. It wasn't really a fair fight."

  "Morons with a shovel and a rifle," Idea corrected.

  "But still morons." Eurydice grinned. "Morons who got beat by a girl. I'd wake them up and rub their noses in it if we weren't running so late right now."

  Idea followed her into the parking lot. Looking around, he saw more of the emerald sky he'd glimpsed earlier, and patches of pink grass to boot. "Late for what?"

  Eurydice stripped off the brown gas station attendant's smock and tossed it into the dumpster on her way past, revealing a half-and-half outfit underneath—black blouse and white pants in front, white blouse and black pants in back. "Here's the deal." She flung open the door of a white van and hopped up into the driver's seat. "I can take you to the concert, or I can take you to meet someone who will change your life."

  Idea frowned as he opened the passenger's side door. "Change it for the better?"

  Eurydice blew a pink bubble and popped it. "That's up to the two of you."

  Idea hesitated. He was inclined to trust Eurydice because of her apparent link to Eunice. But the fact remained, she was still a stranger to him. He'd never met her before she'd interrupted his attempted abduction.

  "I need to know more," said Idea.

  Eurydice sighed. "If you want to meet him, we have to leave now."

  "Then hurry up and tell me who he is."

  "Get in," she said, cracking her gum, and he did. After she told him to whom she was offering to take him, he made his choice without hesitation. The tires of the van squealed as it surged out of the gas station's parking lot, heading in the opposite direction from Stowe Amphitheater.

  THE name of the diner was Seconds. The motto, painted in white letters across the front windows, was YOU'LL ALWAYS COME BACK FOR SECONDS!

  The long narrow building sat five miles outside Maysville, clad in glass and stainless steel, shining alone among the endless pink fields. Seconds reminded Idea of diners in movies about the 1950s. It was in such great shape, though, he couldn't tell if it had been around since then or had been built a week ago.

  The parking lot, as Eurydice rolled the van into it, was nearly full. Idea thought that this must mean the food at Seconds was good, but he knew he was too nervous to enjoy it.

  His mind was fixed on the meeting that was about to happen. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he became. If Eurydice was right, this would be what everything had been leading up to. This would be the time for answers.

  Eurydice parked the van and they walked to the front of the diner. "After you." She held the door and waved him inside. A bell jingled as it closed behind them.

  "Hey, Splitter!" Eurydice called, waving and smiling at a cook looking out from the kitchen.

  "Hey, Eudora!" Splitter saluted her with a stainless steel spatula. "Long time no eesay!"

  "Ain't that the uthtray!" Eurydice spoke in pig Latin like Splitter had. "Can I abgray an oothbay?"

  Without warning, a waitress swept past. "We've got a booth right over here." Her voice was a smoker's croak. "Now move it or lose it."

  "I love you too, Mixie," said Eurydice. "Aterlay, Ittersplay," she said to the cook.

  "You betcha," said Splitter.

  "Coffee?" Mixie said gruffly as they took their seats.

  "You want coffee?" Eurydice asked Idea.

  Idea shook his head. He was nervous enough without adding a caffeine rush.

  "One, please." Eurydice cracked her gum.

  But Mixie was already walking away. "Get it yourself," she muttered, stuffing an unlit cigarette into her mouth as she headed toward the exit. "I'm on break." With that, she threw open the door and marched outside, lighting the cigarette on the way.

  "Order up!" Splitter plunked plates of meat loaf and mashed potatoes on the sill of his service window. When no one came to pick them up, he looked at Eurydice. "Whadda ya say? Once more for old times' akesay?"

  "Why not?" Eurydice got up and glided behind the counter to scoop up the plates of food.

  "Thanks, eetheartsway," said Splitter. "Table six. The booth in the ornercay."

  Eurydice whisked across the diner and deposited the plates in front of the elderly couple in the corner booth. "Just remember," she told them. "I get the tip when you're done."

  Then she walked back behind the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Now you need to get up, hon," she told Idea. "Move to the other side of the booth."

  "Why?" Idea asked.

  "Because the seat you're in is taken."

  Idea scowled. "What're you talking about? It was empty when we came in."

  Eurydice cracked her gum three times fast. "Just because you can't see someone sitting there, that doesn't mean the seat is empty."

  "YOU'RE telling me he's right there"—Reacher pointed at the red vinyl seat across the table—"but he's invisible?"

  "You can't see or hear him," said Eunice, sitting beside Reacher on the bench facing the door of Seconds.

  "Can he see me?" he asked. "Can he hear me?"

  Eunice shook her head. "Neither one."

  Reacher blew out his breath and threw himself against the back of the seat. "Okay, first of all, this is hard to believe, to say the least," he said, fiddling with the buttons of his green and white bowling shirt. "Secondly, if it's true, how am I supposed to meet this guy?" Eunice had had the bowling shirt and a pair of jeans in the back of the Beetle. Reacher had changed in the men's room of a gas station on the way to Seconds, tossing the ridiculous rock 'n' roll suit in the trash.

  "You speak through me," said Eunice. "Tell me what you want to tell him, and I'll pass it along."

  "Pass it along how?"

  "He has someone with him who can see and hear me," she explained. "Just like I can see and hear her. She'll tell me what he says, and I'll tell her what you say."

  "Just like that, huh?"

  "It's the only way." Eunice shrugged as she played with her blond braid. "For now."

  Just then, Mixie came over with two cups and a full pot of coffee. "Here you go, you two," she said sweetly, beaming as she put the cups on the table and poured steaming black coffee into them.

  "Thanks," said Eunice.

  Mixie dropped a handful of creamers on the table and patted Eunice's arm. "You just let me know if there's anything else I can get you, dear."

  At that moment, the cook roared Mixie's name from the kitchen, and she scurried away. His voice echoed through the diner as he berated her yet again for being too slow.

  Eunice glared in the direction of the kitchen until the shouting died down. Then she turned back to Reacher. "You want to kick things off?"

  "You mean talk to the thin air over there?" Reacher couldn'
t help sounding skeptical.

  "Now's your chance to speak to him," said Eunice.

  "If he's right there, why can't we see each other?" Reacher waved at the empty seat across the table.

  "Optical illusion."

  "What?"

  "Shh." Eunice leaned over the table and stared intently into the space on the other side of it. She remained silent for a moment, then smiled.

  "She's singing a song for you," said Eunice. "It goes like, 'Eurydice, Eurydice. She is the perfect woman.'"

  Reacher's eyes widened.

  "Also, she wants to know if you've got that magic feeling yet. She's had it since the first time she saw you."

  Reacher rose halfway off his seat. "Eurydice?" he said, gaping at the empty seat on the other side of the booth.

  "Yeah," said Eunice. "She says to quit screwing around, because she doesn't have all day for this."

  Reacher extended an arm across the table and swept it back and forth in the empty space.

  Eunice cleared her throat. "Neither do I. And neither do you."

  "THERE you are!" said Eurydice after silently staring at the empty side of the booth.

  "What?" said Idea.

  "That was the first thing she said to you when you first met." Eurydice tossed a jet black braid over her shoulder. "'There you are! Fancy meeting you here!'"

  Idea realized she was right about Eunice's first words to him ... so, perhaps she was also right about the empty side of the booth not being as empty as it seemed. Either that, or Eurydice and Eunice had been comparing notes behind his back.

  Eurydice stared into space again, then chuckled. "Are you that good a kisser?" she said to Idea. "Sounds like you made a big impression at that rest stop outside Cincinnati."

  Again Eurydice had come up with information that only Eunice should have known. "So she's over there with him, is that what you're saying?" Lifting the bangs from his eyes with the edge of his hand, Idea squinted at the empty seat across from him. "And I can't see or hear them because...?"

  "Because the stars are out of alignment," said Eurydice. "And you have too much processed sugar in your diet."