Green Day Saves the Day

Dré clutched the armrests of his wheelchair desperately as Minty sped him along with Robb not far behind. His knuckles white and his eyes shut tightly to prevent them from being dried out, he yelled, “Minty!” over and over, but his friend ignored his cries and pleas. He made a sharp right turn which caused Dré to involuntarily lunge forward. “Minty, slow the fuck down!” he screeched with all the power left in his lungs. This seemed to bring Minty to his senses, for he apologized and slowed down to a mere power walk. Robb appeared at his side seconds later, red-faced and exhausted.. “You…what--” he gasped for air. “What the fuck Minty?! …You could at least…warn me when you’re gonna…start sprinting. God!” He stopped and put his hands on the back of his head, fingers intertwined through his thick dark hair. He looked up and around then, still panting, said, “Where the hell are we?” Minty stopped as well and he and Dré looked around themselves. “I…have no idea,” Minty said. “Should’ve thought that out before you starting running, eh?” Robb smirked. He slapped his friend on the back of the head for the second time that day as he strolled past him. He stopped, turned around, and said, “Should we hitch a ride?” Minty surveyed the empty street to his left. “If we can find someone,” he said with a shrug.

The trio ambled along, hopelessly lost in the quiet side-streets of Hollywood. However, it wasn’t long before they walked into the busier part of the city where cars whizzed past by the dozens and swarms of people on the sidewalk forced them to form a single-file line, with Robb leading the way. “It’s pretty busy for a Wednesday,” Minty mumbled.
“Yeah.” Dré’s agreement was hardly audible; being in the middle of a crowd in an ancient wheelchair and a hospital gown made him self-conscious and quiet.

“Damn!” Robb said when he looked up at a billboard. The customary digital clock in its top right corner read 12:19; they had less than a half hour to make it back to the hospital before Nurse Burton was due to check on Dré. “We’ll never make it in time walking,” he said. “Well what do you want to do? We can’t exactly thumb a ride with these cars going by as fast as they are—no one’ll stop!” Minty said; his stress made his voice rise, as well as his temper. “I’ve got an idea. Do you want to hear it or do you want to keep bitching?” Robb retorted. “Fine,” his friend grunted. “What is it?”
“Why don’t we just call up a town car?” Robb was practically beaming at his own ingenuity.
Minty was dumbfounded at the simplicity of the solution. “Why…” he trailed off.
“…didn’t you think of this before? Who knows,” Robb smirked.
Minty sighed and said, “All right, you’re a genius—just call someone up before we run out of time, all right?”

Robb did just that and soon the band found themselves on the way to the hospital in the back of a luxurious town car with enough room for 12 people.

“What are we gonna do?” Dré said, and his eyebrows creased with worry.

Robb’s hand paused just as it was about to enclose around a cold bottle of something colorful from the mini bar. “Do about what?” he queried as he proceeded to pick up and open the bottle.

“Sam,” he replied simply.

“Sam who?” Minty scoffed.

“Sam Galton, the nurse? She could lose her job over this,” Dré said.

Robb nearly choked on his mystery drink. “I can’t believe I forgot about that. I guess I was so caught up in all the running…that I forgot what we were rushing for,” he said, pausing to glare at Minty.

“Well, there’s not much we can do at this point,” Minty said with a shrug. “We can still try to get him back in time but chances are everyone at that hospital saw him.”

“Thanks for being so optimistic,” Dré sneered.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” Robb said.

“We’ve arrived,” the driver announced drearily. Everyone—sans the sleepy driver—sighed deeply and prepared to face the consequences of what they had done. Robb stood up, awkwardly hunched over, and started to maneuver Dré toward the back where the wheelchair lift was. After everyone got out, they cautiously approached the left side of the hospital, where they had gotten off the lift. It wasn’t long before they had encountered another problem: “How are we gonna get the lift from up there,” Minty pointed up, “to us down here?” They all scanned the wall for a sign of something to bring the lift to their level—a switch, a button, a lever, anything—but found nothing. “The only way to move that lift is by hitting that red button,” Dré said.

“No shit,” Minty snapped.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Robb said. The corners of his lips twitched as he struggled to conceal a grin.

“Let me guess: you’ve hatched another brilliant plan,” Minty mocked.

Leering at the bassist Robb replied, “Sarcasm noted, and yes, I’ve got an idea; and instead of telling you, I’ll show you.” And show him he did. He plucked his shoe off his foot and hurled it at the button—and came up short by a good three feet. His sneaker bounced off and fell to the floor, scuffed and streaked with dirt. He ran to it, picked it up, and heaved it again, this time with a grunt. This time it hit a bit of wall just a few inches to the right of the taunting target. His amused friends watched as he threw his shoe three more times before finally becoming victorious. The sole of the shoe smacked the button with a vengeance and the lift whirred as it descended. “Just in time,” Robb smiled. “We’ve only got five minutes left.”

Gleefully, the three men squeezed onto the lift which then began to automatically rise. It stopped in front of the door. Minty peered in through the window, which was only about six inches across and 12 tall, and saw that the hallway was buzzing with standard hospital activity: a doctor stood outside her patient’s room with their relatives, nurses walked and wheeled in and out of rooms with cups of pills and syringes. Down the hall, a woman sat at the receptionist’s desk—probably twiddling her thumbs and waiting for a new patient to come in. In a lowered voice, Minty told his friends that there was no way they could just walk in without being noticed. “Fuck…” Robb said under his breath. “What are we going to do? Burton’s going to check on Dré any second now and see that his bed’s empty!”

As they quarreled, the musicians didn’t hear the door open or Nurse Galton clear her throat. “A-hem!” she said again forcefully.

“Oh, hey!” Robb said. “Listen, we’re so sorry about…everything and if you’re getting fired over this we can get you a job at—”

“Hush,” the nurse said calmly putting her hand over the frantic guitarist’s mouth. Taking her hand away slowly, she smiled and said, “It seems you all underestimated me. You didn’t think I’d go and let everyone catch a patient on TV, did you?” She was met by ashamed silence. Chuckling, she said, “Oh, no—I’ve got everything covered. I blocked every news station from every TV—don’t ask how—and I dumped one of my patients on Burton to keep her busy when I realized you guys were running late. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to pick your jaws off the floor, I’ll be taking Dré off your hands now,” she finished. Robb and Minty murmured words of gratitude as Dré was wheeled over to the nurse/heroine.

After leaving the hospital, the two men decided it was time for a lunch break. They stopped in a nearby restaurant where they were swarmed by fans. Then they headed off to a shady bar where no one bothered them—or seemed to even recognize them, for that matter—and they were allowed to drink their stresses away in peace. When they returned to their condo at about 5, Robb was ready to sleep, but Minty had other plans, plans involving a girl—plans involving the girl: Joan.

When he emerged from the bathroom freshly showered and lightly doused with cologne, Robb drowsily asked him where he was going.

“I told you,” Minty said. “I’ve got a date.”

“Mm, yeah, forgot about that. Who the hell goes out on a Wednes…”

“Robb?”

His friend had fallen asleep midsentence.

***
When Minty was nervous, he tapped his foot uncontrollably. When he was really nervous, he tapped his foot and mashed his left earlobe with his thumb and index finger. As he waited for Joan to return from the bathroom, he did both of these things. “What was I thinking? This place is just too much—the candles, the romantic music; this was a mista—“ “Hey,” he said coolly as Joan sat down at their table.

“Hey yourself,” she replied just as coolly. “So,” she started as she spread her napkin over her lap, “that was a pretty ballsy move today.”

“What was?”

“Saying I love you on national TV before we even went on our first date,” she said with a delighted smirk.

Minty was suddenly grateful for the dimly lit restaurant because he felt himself blushing, and Joan didn’t seem to notice. “Oh…oh, that…I…I was just…I guess I got caught up in the moment,” he stammered.

“Well I thought it was cute,” she said.

”Yes!” “I’m glad you think so,” Minty said, hardly able to contain himself. “So um, what do you think of this place?”

“It’s…”

He held his breath and waited for her to tell him, gently, politely, that it was intimidating for a first date, maybe even cheesy; but instead she said, “…perfect.”

The evening went on like a dream—a glowing, beautiful dream. She told him about herself: she was 23, born and raised in Summerlin, Nevada with her younger sister Alexia and her older brother Davis. Her mother was Irish and her father was white. She had “a thing for birds”—she had three green budgies and a cockatoo named Snip waiting for her at her apartment, which she shared with her friend Elle. She wanted to be a veterinarian until she was eight when she learned that the job entailed putting animals to sleep. At that point she decided to become a wildlife photographer, which she was currently going to school for.

“You need four years of school just to learn how to take pictures?”

“Hey, don’t knock it Mr. Rock Star—it’s harder than it looks.”

Their food arrived, great bowls of hot pasta and soup, and Minty started going on about his own life as he helped himself. He was 26, a Leo, born and raised in Arizona. He was of Puerto Rican and Italian descent. He had four brothers—three older and one younger—and both his parents had passed away before he graduated from high school. He’d been playing the bass for ten years. The small scar on his chin was a result of the “first and last time” he ever tried to ice skate.

Joan nodded and laughed and asked questions when it seemed appropriate but wasn’t fully focused—at least, not on the words coming out of Minty’s mouth. She was too busy studying him. His hazel eyes flashed in the orange light of the candles between her and him as he told her the story of how he got his unusual nickname. (He went on a short-lived mint-eating binge in high school and had minty fresh breath for two weeks straight.) The muscles in his forearm twitched as he transferred generous helpings of pasta from the bowl to his plate one, two, three times. So many little things—straight teeth, curved lips, strong jaw line, sharp nose—all added up to one gorgeous hell of a man.

Time trickled by and soon it was eight o’ clock, then nine. At nine-thirty Minty suggested they go to the movies. When Joan agreed, he paid the bill and as they walked toward the exit he boldly linked his arm around her waist, a move which she didn’t protest, but seemed to enjoy. The second they stepped out the door, all hell broke loose.

“Mr. Malvez, over here!” Snap, flash, snap, flash.

“Danny, look this way!” Snap, flash, snap, flash.

“Can I get a smile?”

“Is she your girlfriend now?”

“Where’s the drummer?”

Snap, snap, flash, flash.

Minty moved Joan behind him and pushed the paparazzi out of his way. “No comment,” he said coldly.

“Is it true that this is your third date?”

The mayhem continued as the couple walked down the sidewalk; Minty’s car was across the street and they had to cross at the corner. A paparazzo or two gave up, but eight or nine remained, and they were relentless. As they approached the corner, it was Minty’s turn for his own streak of genius—or stupidity. He swept Joan up into his arms—which sent the camera-snapping fiends into an absolute frenzy—and dashed across the street, managing to weave through a brief gap in traffic without a single scratch. When they were safely on the other side, laughing wildly, they both showed the paparazzi Joan’s favorite animal: the bird. As they walked to Minty’s car, he remarked, “Looks like they’re going to have something to talk about tomorrow.” Joan chuckled warmly. “They sure will,” she said.

***
Minty stumbled into the dark condo at twelve, giddy and energetic. “He said, Let there be light!” The lights in the hallway flashed on. “And there was light,” he practically giggled. On his way to the kitchen, he saw the Message Center blinking steadily. The slim device, which sat on a polished oak table, was the digital equivalent of someone leaving a note. He pressed one of its three buttons and a recorded female voice chimed, “One new message for Daniel from Robb, recorded at 11:13 pm. Play message?”

“Yes.”

Robb’s voice filled the quiet of the room. “Hey Minty, I’m going to be out for a while. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” A woman’s voice cut in. “Who are you talkin’ to?”
“Shut up!” he hissed. “So, uh, yeah, you know how to reach me.”

“End of message number one of one.” Beep.