One Night Only

“Let’s hit the road, bitches!” I shout out to the neighborhood as I leap out of my house, earning the stink eye from the mother of two kids across the street on tricycles.

Today, we—We Have Eaten All the Cake that is, band extraordinaire—are getting on a tour bus, a freaking tour bus, to travel across several southern states without parental supervision to play our souls out. That is my kind of summer vacation.

“Dad! Hurry up!” I yell towards the open front door.

We’re all meeting up in the school’s front parking lot so we can board our rectangular chariot and say buh-bye Texas—hello Louisiana! Of course, my overprotective dad is clutching his asthma inhaler to his chest while trying very hard not to faint into the kitchen counter. My mother on the other hand was cool as a cucumber. We actually said our goodbyes last night before she went to work so she wouldn’t have to risk not being able to get back to sleep this morning. Dear dad however, is in a state.

I start loading my suitcases into the back of his Prius, keeping an impatient eye on the door.

He finally comes out as I shut the trunk. He’s quivering and bravely holding back tears.

I give him a reassuring smile and climb into the passenger’s seat.

I expect a quiet, sniffling car ride, but much to my chagrin, dad surprises me.

“Did you remember everything?” he asks me, his voice suddenly all commando-like.

“Yes, dad,” I say, smiling a little.

“Cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Charger?”

“Check.”

“Socks?”

“Yeah.”

“Panties?”

“…Dad. Don’t say panties.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what they’re called?”

I groan and bang my head lightly into the car window. “They’re underwear. Undergarments. Lady things.”

“…Oh.”

“Uh huh.”

“I still don’t see why I can’t call them panties,” he protests.

“Because I wear thongs, dad,” I say, exasperated.

Quiet.

“But not those… Stringy little—“

“No, dad. Not G-strings,” I comfort.

“Oh. Good.”

“Yes.”

More quiet.

He pops his lips. “So… Panties check.”

“Da-ad!”



When we get to the school parking lot, we’re the only ones there which is good for me because then no one will see the embarrassing string of ‘I love you’s and ‘are you sure about this’s and ‘did you pack talcum powder (you’ll never know when you might get chafe from swamp ass onstage afterall)’s.

I step out of the car and look up at the sky. The sun is bravely struggling over a patch of trees. The sky is a clear, light blue. I think it’s one of those really pretty blues—baby room blue, cute blue-eyed boy blue, midnight pool water blue.

My thoughts are snapped back to the parking lot as I hear the trunk slam shut. Dad already has all my luggage out on the asphalt. He’s turned away from me, looking at nothing particularily interesting, but pretending it’s fascinating because he’s most likely crying.

“Aw, daddy,” I coo and wrap my arms around him.

“Bye, sweet pea,” he snuffles, returning the embrace.

“I’ll miss you,” I proffer.

“I already miss you,” he says, kinda pulling back and matting down my bangs as he pushes them away from my face.

Just then another car pulls in and I recognize it to be Jude’s mom’s expensive and rather ostentatious Mercedes.

I stand to the side of my dad and we stay in a one-armed chummy hug as we watch Jude kiss his mother’s cheek, grab all his stuff from the trunk, and then his mom peels out of the lot.

He starts walking towards us and dad looks at me. “Should I leave?”

“If you want to.” I shrug.

He sighs and rubs his eyes underneath his glasses. “I guess the bird has to leave the nest sometime.”

I give a close-lipped smile, showing my dimples and give him another tight hug. “Bye, dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dominoes,” he says and then steps away from the hug, climbs into the car, and before I know it he’s nowhere to be seen.

Jude was hovering nearby during the emotional moment and is now strolling over to me with his hands in his pockets since the air of familial love has gone.

I run up to him and gather his gangly limbs into an ecstatic vice grip. “Oh, Judy!” I exclaim.

He blinks slowly, trying to process my behavior. “…Did you just… call me Judy?”

“Get over it. I’m happy and a girl’s paying attention to you so you should be happy, but not too happy,” I say, stepping away. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you have a jockstrap in your pocket.” I pat him on the chest.

He raises an eyebrow.

Poor boy. He doesn’t do well in the mornings.

He scratches the back of his head and yawns, then suddenly looks like he’s forgotten something. “Hey, Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think dogs are allowed on the bus?” He shifts from foot to foot.

“No. Why?”

He doesn’t answer and fascinates himself with his shoes.

Now, why would he ask about a dog?

Everyone knows that dogs aren’t allowed on buses unless it’s for medical purposes and Jude isn’t blind and doesn’t have seizures so I’m pretty sure—
'
Diva.

“You didn’t,” I say, my eyes too wide to look any less than bug-like.

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” I say, shaking my finger at him.

“No… Not really.”

“Quack, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“What? No.”

“You brought Diva, didn’t you?”

“What? No. No way. No. What?”

He’s lying.

His voice always goes up to an uncomfortable octave that makes you think he’s been punched in the family jewels.

“Where is she?” I huff, stomping over to where his luggage is.

“At home. Duh. What?”

Another thing. He says ‘what?’ a lot.

Useful information.

As I get closer, I see that his duffle bag is squirming.

Now, unless he left some Mickey D’s in that bag for a decade, I’m fairly certain that there is an overweight little mutt struggling to be free.

Jude manages to get there faster than me on his long legs and grabs the wriggling bag and shushes it.

You didn’t bring your dog, my ass.

“Why do you even try to lie?” I ask, hands on my hips.

“What?”

“Jude. Seriously. You can’t bring her.”

“Dom, I have to. Mom refuses to take care of her because she hates her and I don’t have enough money for a dog hotel or whatever and I can’t ask one of you guys.”

“Well, why not?”

“Well, your dad’s allergic to everything.”

True enough.

“Kyle’s family is going on vacation soon.”

Okay… Yeah.

“And Sam lives in an apartment.”

Shoot.

“Don’t you have any other friends?”I ask.

He raises his eyebrows.

He does this quite a lot around me.

“Not any whose family would be willing to take care of my deceased grandmother’s fat-ass dog.”

He unzips the duffle bag a little angrily and Diva sticks her head out and immediately starts barking at an unmoving tree and then me and then everything else that looks somewhat threatening to her.

“This is never going to work,” I groan.

“We can give it a try,” Jude says hopefully, sitting down cross-legged and opening a chocolate bar’s packaging.

I wave my hand in the air. “Whatever.”

If we get kicked off the bus for him smuggling his dog in, I’m gonna curb stomp him.

Curb stomp him real good.

Jude splits the candy bar into three and passes one piece to me, sticks another piece in his mouth, and gives the last of it to Diva.

Maybe that’ll shut her up.

…

Or kill her.

…

I sit down.

Sam and Kyle then pull into the lot in the same car driven by one of the parents, Kyle’s step-mom I think.

None of us drove our own cars because it would certainly be a bad idea to leave them unattended in the school parking lot for most of the summer. So, the parents are doing all the driving.

I nibble on my chocolate bar as the two unload their stuff. Afterwards, Sam starts lumbering towards us, dragging his equipment behind him and Kyle stays behind to say goodbye.

“Hey, Sam,” I say and wave.

“Samuel,” Jude grunts and then gets up so they can do one of those man-hugs.

Jude nearly trips over his dog.

She starts yapping again.

“Oof.” I lie back on the pavement even though it’s probably a really gross thing to do and watch as Jude and Sam settle down on the ground so we form a little triangle.

Everything’s quiet for a little while and all is pleasant until I remember something. I quickly sit back up. “Holy shit, we’re gonna be rock stars.”

“This just dawned on you?” Jude asks casually, picking something out from under his thumbnail.

“Shut up, Quack.”

Sam’s quietly humming with laughter.

“We’re gonna be famous, baby!” I shout, so Kyle can hear me. She’s just turned away from her step mom and her little self is heading towards us, her fist suspended in the air. “Woooo!” she hollers.

“Hell yeah!” Sam joins in.

Jude gives out a little self-conscious whoop.

I stand up and hold my hands out to the guys.

Jude gives me ‘the hell?’ expression, and Sam just shrugs and stands up. I start dancing and Sam kind of joins in with some awkward roboto moves.

Kyle then runs over to us, dragging her luggage behind and starts doing the disco.

Reluctantly, Jude stands and does the Macarena.

Gradually it becomes fun and we’re all yelling and excited and free from any sort of supervision. It’s exhilarating.

So we’re all just jumping around in a gyrating circle, that probably looks like ring-around-the-rosie to an outsider when we all stop at the sound of a large vehicle coming to the parking lot.

“Bus!” we all shout almost in unison.

“Fuck yeah!” Sam yells.

Jude kneels down and zips Diva into his bag, with quite a bit of protest coming from the overfed animal.

Then we all grab our junk and walk over to the bus where a jolly looking old man in jean shorts and a Hawaiian shirt is standing with the hatch near the bottom of the bus open.

When we approach, he gives each of us a hearty handshake and introduces himself as Barney.

Images of the purple dinosaur flood my mind and my childhood terror of Barney resurfaces a little.

But this Barney looks like a nice guy. He kinda looks like Santa. He has a beer belly, a big white beard…

I bet he’s a Santa in a mall around Christmas time when he doesn’t have other work.

Anyway. He tells us to throw the stuff we don’t need on the bus with us in the hatch. Stuff like any performing equipment we don’t need to practice with and such.

Afterwards, we’re on the bus, ready to go.

Beds have been claimed and the dog has been safely stowed in the bathroom after informing Kyle and Sam about the predicament. It went over smoothly and Diva’s been pretty quiet.

…I wonder where she’ll do her business.

I wonder what will happen when Barney has to do his business.

…Hm… Food for thought.

Windows down, spirits up, and the highway ahead of us, the radio sings the aspiring rockers to their glory.

We hope.