by A.R. Wise
* * *
“Wake up, freeloaders!” Stephen was chipper and loud as he came into the living room where his guests were sleeping.
Alma threw a pillow at him. “It’s too early to be so happy,” she said and pressed her face back into Paul’s side as they lay on the couch
“Today’s the big day,” said Stephen as he went into the kitchen. “The van’s all packed, and we’re ready to go. I’ll buy some breakfast on the way.” No one responded, so he spoke louder. “Come on, guys! Let’s go!”
“Holy shit, dude,” said Jacker. “Is the sun even up?”
“It’s almost seven,” said Stephen. “Come on, we’re already running late.”
“In my world it’s impossible to be running late for anything at seven in the morning,” said Jacker, but he sat up anyhow. His hair was standing straight out on either side of his head, making him look like a clown as he sniffled and yawned.
“That’s some serious bed head, brother,” said Paul.
“You try sleeping on a love seat, see how good you look in the morning.” Jacker stood up and stumbled forward, unbalanced. “I feel like the fattest anchovy in the smallest can.”
“Alma,” said Stephen as he came into the living room with a stack of papers. “Can you do me a favor and look over this real quick? It’s the waiver for our show. If everything looks good, just sign and date the bottom of each page. Cool?”
Paul took the papers because Alma didn’t want to get up yet. She kept her head pressed into her boyfriend’s side.
Alma groaned and finally sat up. “Can’t we take showers before we go? I don’t want to be in a van with a bunch of stinky guys all day.”
“I already took one and Rachel should be getting done soon. I’ll kick her out of the bathroom and make her do her hair in the bedroom. She takes for freaking ever to get ready.”
“It takes me a while to wash and dry my hair too.” Alma instinctually reached for her long hair to drape it over her shoulder, but discovered it was gone. “But I guess not anymore. I forgot it was gone. God, that’s weird.” She ran her hand through her newly short hair. “It’s like having a phantom limb or something.”
Stephen heard a hair dryer turn on in the bedroom. “Sounds like Rachel’s out of the bathroom.”
“I’ll jump in the shower next,” said Jacker. “Give you three a chance to go over the papers.”
“It’s pretty basic,” said Stephen. “I added in a clause about giving you final say on any portion of the show that features you, or anything about your history with Widowsfield. I even included the footage from the school in there. I want to make sure you know that I’m not trying to be deceptive or anything. It’s all there. Look it over and let me know if you have any questions.”
Stephen went to the kitchen to make coffee, but watched Paul and Alma as they read the contract. Alma looked it over first, and pointed out a few things to Paul who then took the papers and started reading. The entire show depended on Alma signing the contract, and Stephen was nervous as he waited to see if she would sign. His heart was racing, a side effect of the pills he took every morning to help him get going. When he first started taking the diet pills, he was just trying to lose a few vanity pounds, but they’d become an essential part of his routine now. Coffee hardly had an effect on him, and a few weeks ago he had to go up to four pills each morning instead of the recommended two, but he craved the energy they gave him. He’d never been so productive in his life.
He drummed on the counter as he waited for the water to boil. “Come on, you fucker,” said Stephen as he stared at the water in the pot. “Boil, already.”
“Stephen,” said Alma.
He was startled by her voice. He’d fallen into a bit of a trance as he stared into the pot of water, and jogged back into the living room to see what Alma needed. “Yep?”
“I didn’t expect to get paid,” said Alma. “Rachel already bought me so much stuff. I feel bad taking more money for doing an internet video.”
Stephen and Paul looked at one another. Paul hadn’t told Alma about the network deal, which surprised Stephen. Even though he’d asked him to keep it a secret, he expected him to tell his girlfriend.
“It’s okay,” said Stephen, and he wondered if Paul was testing him. Was the biker waiting to see if Stephen would be honest? He decided not to risk it. “You should know the truth. We’re hoping that the show goes beyond just being an internet thing. Do me a favor and keep this part quiet, but we got approached by a cable network about possibly turning this into an actual television show.”
Alma looked concerned, which was exactly what Stephen was afraid of.
“Oh,” she said and looked back down at the contract. “Wow.”
She was reconsidering; Stephen could see it in the way she started to study the contract again.
“It’s the same show,” said Stephen. “Everything’s exactly the same, and we might just use this as a test show. It might not even make it on the air.”
Alma set the contract on the coffee table.
Stephen could feel his show slipping away. Alma was going to refuse to sign. She was going to back out. “I’ll do whatever you need, Alma. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do what I can to accommodate you. This story depends on you being a part of it. I need you, Alma.”
“Can you get me a pen?”
“You’re going to sign?” asked Paul.
“Yes,” said Alma. “I don’t care if it’s on television. My father wants to close the door on what happened, so the wider I can open it the better.”
Stephen thought he’d given her a pen before, and searched through his pockets until he found one. “Here, here,” he said as he handed it to her.
He watched in anticipation as she signed and dated the bottom of each page. When she was finished, she gathered the pages and straightened them by tapping the stack on the coffee table. Then she offered them up to Stephen, and he tried not to swipe them greedily away.
“Thank you, Alma,” said Stephen.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Don’t forget, you gave me final approval on everything.”
He paused, deflated by the overconfident way she spoke. “I guess that’s true,” he said and forced a grin.
Jacker got out of the shower and Alma went in next. Stephen used his French press to make coffee for everyone, and they discussed some of the details of the trip. Jacker had a few favorite restaurants that he wanted to stop at on the way, and Paul said that he’d made a trip out to the Ozarks on his motorcycle a few times.
“Once you get out of Illinois, it gets a lot prettier,” said Paul. “The Ozarks are beautiful to drive through, especially this time of year. I kind of wish I was taking the bike.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Stephen.
Paul sat back and crossed his legs. “Maybe I will. I’ll have to see about planning a trip sometime soon.”
“No,” said Stephen, “I mean now. Why not ride the bike behind us?”
Paul raised his eyebrows and seemed intrigued. “I guess I didn’t think about it. I’d love to do that. It’d be a good way to get Alma to ride with me on a long trip too. She’s okay with short trips, but always says that long road trips are too much for her. This would be a good chance to get the best of both worlds.”
“All right then,” said Stephen. “It’s settled. You can ride your bike while Jacker, Alma, Rachel, and I take the van. That’ll be perfect.”
“Why do you seem so happy about it?” asked Paul. “Were you worried I’d be farting the whole trip or something?”
“I was,” said Jacker.
“No,” said Stephen. “Honestly, I had no clue how much shit my wife was planning on bringing.” He looked toward the bedroom where Rachel was still getting ready. “She’s got three bags full of shit. And I mean, big bags. I don’t know how in the hell that girl can fill up so much luggage for just a quick trip like this. I was worried we’d all be sitting on each other’s laps.”
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sp; “All you had to do was say something, man,” said Paul. “No need to try and manipulate the situation to get what you want.” Paul tapped his finger on the contract on the coffee table and winked at Stephen. “Know what I mean?”