Foolish Games Read online

  That made me smile as we got in the van. “So will it be a hotel or Walmart tonight?” I asked.

  Not letting me get off the hook that easily he continued, “Say hello to Stalking,” his left pec flexed, “Hawkins,” his right pec flexed. Soon he had both of them going up and down as I laughed.

  “Oh, shit, you’re better at that than Lizzie.”

  “Damn straight,” he quipped.

  I noticed the traffic was starting to move more speedily than usual as I started the van and pulled out of the parking space. We were freshly showered and had slept in a hotel last night so we decided to rough it. We found a vacant grocery store near the highway. Riley and I fought over the bed sheet until I won. Tossing back and forth in a restless semi-sleep, I reasoned that Hawkins couldn’t be that much different than Jake; no matter what Riley insisted. Picturing Hawkins singing to me at the concert, full of conceit and arrogance, left no doubt in my mind. Sighing to myself, I thought how much I hated these games.

  Riley continued to snore loudly beside me so I shouldn’t have been able to hear what I thought were footsteps approaching the van. Lifting my head slightly, I glanced through the back window where the curtains didn’t block my view of the outside. But all I saw was the wash of fluorescent light cascading down on the empty parking lot.

  After several minutes of silence, I thought maybe all this Hawkins drama was too much excitement for one night and rolled over on my other side. Staring at the back of Riley slumped over beside me, I thought about how nice it was to have a guy around. I couldn’t imagine doing this alone. Sighing to myself, I rolled over on my back again when suddenly my heart caught in my chest. I saw the silhouette of a tall man leaning against the window trying to catch a glimpse of us through the side curtains. Shrinking back from the window and into Riley, I screamed out loud causing Riley to jolt awake and the man to run. Grabbing up the sheet like it was some kind of barrier, Riley asked, “What is it?”

  “Someone is outside,” I whispered. Riley reached across and pushed back the side curtain. “I don’t see anyone,” he croaked in his dazed state as he looked back and forth. “Are you sure, Joie?”

  “Yes,” I hissed.

  “What was he doing?”

  “I could only make out his silhouette through the curtains, but I think he was trying to look in on us.”

  Heaving a heavy sigh, Riley continued, “I guess we’re going to have to find another place to sleep tonight?”

  “Umm, yeah, like now,” I stressed, quickly jumping up, I got behind the wheel and the van roared to life. Glancing out at the almost empty parking lot, my eyes rested on the nearby woods. Shivering, I rammed the gear into place and sped off.

  4. THE AGREEMENT

  My body jerked awake as the van hit a couple of bumps on the highway. Groaning, I rolled over to look up at Riley who was driving the van. Must have finally fallen asleep after last night’s peeping Tom incident, I realized.

  “Good afternoon,” Riley called over his shoulder.

  “What time is it?”

  “Time to get up!” I was startled when Lizzie turned around in the passenger seat.

  I pulled the sheet up over my head in protest.

  “Look, you made front page news,” she sang while throwing a magazine over my head. “You finally have something to comment about now.”

  Recoiling from the unexpected blow, I reached out for the magazine and pulled it under the sheet with me. There, on the cover of one of those gossip magazines was Hawkins with two girls on his left and one on his right: a brunette, a redhead, and a blonde. I read the headline, “Hawkins puts the rumors to rest that he only prefers blondes.”

  “Ha!” I threw the sheet off me for a much needed, whole hearted laugh.

  “There’s a picture of me on the inside,” Lizzie gushed.

  “Oh, hell.” Flipping through a couple of pages of the magazine, I came across an article about Hawkins. On the page was a photo of Lizzie from the blog. There was also another photo of the girls from the cover, capturing them laughing hysterically at something Hawkins probably did not say.

  The article read, “Hawkins claims that Lizzie McIntyre, otherwise known as Not Stalking Hawkins, is a mentally disturbed, delusional fan who he has never met. Just a groupie who is riding on his coat tails while seeking the attention that follows The Grimm Brothers Band each summer tour.”

  “Oh, that arrogant son of,” I mumbled.

  “Keep reading, it only gets better.” Lizzie smacked her bubble gum.

  “Meanwhile, a source close to the band claims that Hawkins and the girl in question have met before and on more than one occasion, including a late night rendezvous at his hotel that ended badly. After seeing him at the Milo Club adorned with girls of every shade of hair color, one can only wonder if Lizzie McIntyre is just suffering from ‘scorned pride.’”

  “Ha!” I exclaimed.

  “Hawkins, wanting to put a stop to the rumors, stated, ‘Her fifteen minutes of fame is definitely up.’ Others believe that it’s a marketing strategy timed precisely when The Grimm Brothers Band sales are at an all-time low. This love affair, whether real or not, was the most sought after news this week according to the Google website polls.”

  I looked up from the article. “Mentally disturbed groupie? My fifteen minutes of fame? And apparently I’m still hooking up with him?!”

  “You’re a busy girl.” Riley snickered.

  “Did you see my picture?” Lizzie asked excitedly while bouncing in her seat. “I’m going to have to go shopping if I’m going to be seen in magazines.”

  I snarled in response then my cell phone went off. The word “Mom” flashed on the screen.

  “Holy shit, who told her?!”

  “Told who?” Riley asked.

  “My mom,” I squeaked. “Who told my mom about this?!”

  “Not me,” Riley insisted.

  “Lizzie!”

  “God, I have more important people to tell,” she said while blowing kisses at the sun visor vanity mirror.

  “And I’m the mental one?” I exclaimed, before answering my cell.

  “Hi Mom,” I said, speaking in an overly chipper tone for someone who had just woken up to an embarrassingly detailed article intended to smear her character.

  “Where are you?” my mom asked.

  “Where am I?” I asked rhetorically so Riley could hear.

  “Virginia Beach.”

  And I repeated without thinking, “Virginia Beach, Mom.” Grimacing as soon as I said it, anything with beach connected to it sounded like I was goofing off and not figuring out what I was going to do with my life.

  “I don’t understand,” my mom said with an edge. “How do you get college credit for going to Virginia Beach?”

  “It’s like studying abroad without the abroad part.” I winced.

  “Smooth.” Riley’s shoulders shook with laughter.

  “Sounds like a load of shit, Josephine, what are you really doing?”

  Rubbing my face with my hand I said, “The truth is, Mom.”

  “The truth is…” I was grasping for straws when I just happened to look down at the magazine. “The truth is that I got a summer job.”

  “YES!” Lizzie shouted from up front.

  “What?” My mom asked.

  I could tell that my mom believed this even less than the abroad class.

  “No, it’s true. I’m writing for a website.”

  “A website for what?” I looked down at the cover of Hawkins who was surrounded by girls.

  “A political party for the upcoming election in the fall.”

  “When have you ever cared about politics?”

  As of two seconds ago.

  “Wow, Mom, I thought that you would be happy to hear the news. That I’m doing something with my life.”

  “I am,” she said earnestly. “It’s just so unexpected. Whose campaign are you working for anyway?”

  “Whose campaign?” I emphasized, looking at Riley
for help. “Well, the democrat of course.”

  “Which democrat?” My mom was starting to smell the fear in me from over two hundred miles away. I could tell that my story was hanging in the balance with the answer to this question.

  “Johnson,” Riley whispered.

  Oh, thank god.

  “Johnson,” I said.

  “The Nicholas Johnson.” She was awe struck.

  “The one,” I said.

  “How did you hear about this job?”

  “Through a friend,” I said vaguely. “I heard that they were hiring so I filled out an application on the website and then they contacted me. It sounded like a great way to see the country as well.”

  “I don’t agree with his health care policy.” She found the only negative thing to comment on.

  “Ah, huh.”

  “His wife is—” my mom began to say, but I knew this was only going to lead to more questions that I didn’t have answers for.

  “Mom, umm, I have to go,” I interrupted her. “We’re on the move.” Saying it like they do in the movies, I noticed Riley was shaking from laughter again.

  “Well, take care of yourself,” she said. “You’re not going to any protest rallies, are you?”

  “No, Mom.”

  “Good,” she said. “I would hate to see you splattered across the front page of the newspaper while making an embarrassing spectacle of yourself. That kind of stuff follows people for years!”

  “That would be bad,” I said, flipping over the cover of the magazine with Hawkins on it. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, honey.”

  I felt horrible for lying to my mom as the call ended, but she was absolutely not going to like hearing the truth. Dropping the cell phone on the floor, I rolled over and pulled the sheet up over my head once more.

  “We’re on the move?” Riley snickered.

  “Virginia Beach?” I quoted before pushing the sheet off me again. “I need to know everything there is to know about this Johnson guy, like yesterday.”

  “You’re in luck; The Grimm Brothers Band is promoting him on their tour,” Riley said the first happy news I had heard since waking up to this nightmare.

  “So when are you going to blog your response to Hawkins’ comments?” Lizzie cut to the chase.

  “I’m not.” I sighed and rolled over on my back to stare up at the ceiling of the van.

  “What do you mean that you’re not?” The smile quickly faded from her face.

  “Rule number five, don’t get in so deep that you’re over your head.”

  “English?” she asked.

  “It’s not worth it.”

  “You just made that up.” Lizzie turned away from me and silently sulked.

  “Pretty much, but my point is this,” I explained. “The rules were created for a reason.”

  “To keep everyone else out,” Lizzie muttered. “The way Jake did when he kicked you out of that party while filming it for YouTube.”

  “You don’t have to shove it down her throat.” Riley glared over at Lizzie. “We were all there.”

  “Yes, because of that,” I whispered to myself.

  “It got a little over two thousand hits,” I said brightly. “That’s more than the entire enrollment of Preston High.”

  “When are you going to get over that?” she asked me.

  “It just happened.” I rolled my eyes at Lizzie. “So I’m sorry if I don’t want to be subjected to more public ridicule like what’s in this magazine.” I held it up and then tossed it back down.

  “Last time I checked it was my name written in that article and I’m fine with it. Maybe I should be the one blogging from now on.” Lizzie shrugged. “It can’t be that difficult.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Anyone need a rest room break? I have to stop to get gas,” Riley interrupted our fight. He pulled off at the next gas station and stopped by the pump. After we parked, Lizzie quickly exited the van. “I need some air,” she huffed before slamming the door shut.

  After sliding back the side door, I dangled my legs over the side of the van. The humidity hit me in full force and I noticed that there was sand around the outskirts of the parking lot. We were near the ocean already? How long had I been sleeping? As if he could read my thoughts, Riley pulled a folded piece of paper from his back jeans pocket while he continued to pump gas. “Here, I know how much you like this part.”

  Opening the paper up, I smiled up at him, knowing it was the MapQuest directions. “Where are we now?” I asked, looking down at it.

  “We’re in Hampton, a little over thirty minutes out.”

  “I’m just glad we’re as far away as possible from that parking lot.” I sighed, remembering last night’s scare.

  “You said that you saw someone?”

  “Yeah, well, not their face, just their silhouette through the curtain.”

  “You’re bound to have the occasional crazy with the cities we visit. Not exactly the safest conditions to live out of a van. That’s if you didn’t have me around of course.” He smiled, pausing a second before he continued, “I know that Lizzie is going about it in all the wrong way, but did you read the article? Did you read what he called you?”

  “You think that I should comment?” I started to consider the possibility.

  “I wouldn’t let him get away with saying those things if it were me, if that’s what you’re asking.” He pulled out the gas nozzle. “Especially after the two of you agreed not to comment on each other anymore.” He turned back around. “It sounds like he’s testing you.”

  Just then Lizzie came out of the convenience store like a speed walker while waving another magazine in her hand. “Just more of the interview.” She slapped a different magazine down on my lap. I looked down at the opened magazine, skimming through the rather painful article for any current news. “Hawkins tweeted, ‘I never intended to jolt her bones in any way.’”

  “Okay, okay,” I said until I found it. “Hawkins said, ‘I actually feel bad for the girl. Hopefully she can get the help that she needs. Besides that, I would like to set the record straight. I think women are beautiful with all different kinds of hair colors and little girls with egos too big to fit in an elevator aren’t.’”

  Both of them were silent as I took the unexpected blow. I knew that it shouldn’t have hurt. He had called me unattractive before, but that was when I had raccoon eyes and a purple hooker shirt. Who knew what else he had said that didn’t get published? I had to admit, someone mark it down, Lizzie was right.

  “Where’s the computer?” I asked.

  “Yes!” Lizzie jumped up and down excitedly. Riley merged on the highway again as I booted up the computer in the back.

  “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Hawkins,” Lizzie said while rubbing her hands together in a scheming kind of way.

  “Wait, hold up,” I said to her. “That was good! Just give me two seconds.” Logging onto the section of the site reserved for employees only, I wiggled my fingers over the keyboard.

  “I’m ready.”

  Ten minutes later, after everyone helped, we had ourselves a contending blog to Hawkins thoughtless babble.

  I read it aloud for all of us to review. “Yes, I have rules which include; not taking candy from a stranger, not taking a ride from a stranger, and not going to a hotel room with a stranger! And, if the world must know, I was invited! I know that it hurts to be turned down, but welcome to the real world, buddy. If it wasn’t for us coattail riders, there wouldn’t be a summer tour. I’m not talking to his fan base now when the only thing he really cares about is Jack and Coke. Forget about your hair color, girls, because the only action you’ll be getting is watching him down another drink while texting away on his BlackBerry all alone. I don’t feel sad for him anymore, just regret.” After reading it, I put my hand on the mouse and dragged it over to the send icon.

  “Here goes nothing.” I then clicked the mouse and watched the blog pop up on the editing board
s of the website.

  “He should watch who he messes with,” I said under my breath.

  We were giggling with euphoria as we drove to the concert. I was satisfied with what I had written in my blog, but I felt a little more nervous with each passing minute. I would be in Hawkins’ territory at the venue—his backyard—and frankly, way too close to the stage. Not that I thought he would have me personally escorted out of the pavilion, though it did run through the irrational part of my mind once or twice. Yet I would only look weak to blog about him and then not show up to face whatever may come, hell or high water. I needed to be brave. I couldn’t let Hawkins win this one by being scared.

  We sat in the concert traffic for a little over thirty minutes while Riley serenaded us with, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” Once we had parked, we opened the side door to the van. Laying on my back, I took in the inviting cool shade. When I heard the sound of voices, I lifted my head to focus on the small huddled group of guys around the side of our van.

  “Aren’t you that girl from the magazine?” a guy asked Lizzie. Groaning, I laid my head back down on the cot again.

  “Yes, I am,” Lizzie said sweetly. She was probably dazzling them with her smile, too.

  After locking up the van an hour later, we started our hike up to the security line to be frisked. I noticed that we were getting a lot of attention as we headed to our seats. It shouldn’t have felt personal since they were looking at Lizzie, but I realized while standing there beside her that it was starting to play tricks on my mind. It felt like they might as well have been looking at me, too.

  The Larks were already playing when we finally found our seats that felt too damn close to the stage. Then I reminded myself of a few choice words: “I think women are beautiful and little girls with egos too big to fit in an elevator aren’t.” The Larks left the stage and with that thought I said to myself, “Let the good times roll.”

  Hawkins strutted across the stage and I was prepared to glare back up at him, but I noticed that he didn’t look absolutely sinister with rage as I had expected. He strummed the first chord on his guitar and the lights went up. Ten songs later, without a single song directed at me in the set list, I was starting to wonder if he had read the blog yet. I glanced over at Riley to see if I missed something, but he just shrugged. It wasn’t until the end of the show that I sensed something was amiss.