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Chapter Thirty Beatriz listened to the heavy breathing on the other end of the phone. She lay on the couch in her library, her book lying across her legs, unread for the last half-hour. She stretched her shirt pulling it up and exposing her skin, moving her fingers softly over the exposed flesh, laying her head back on the soft pillows. "Oh, Taylor…" she breathed, softly. "Just relax, it's so much easier if you relax…" "Beatriz…ungh…God…" His voice sounded urgent on the other end of the line. She could hear random rustlings, it sounded like he was wrestling and shifting around in his bed, probably because he was. "How much longer can this last?" "Taylor, it’ll be morning soon and then you'll sleep." She said, absently running her hand over her own stomach, and then winding her fingers into her hair. She listened to his moans, finding them to be almost musical. |
“I don’t think so…” he breathed.
She smiled, “Oh, for heaven’s sakes, let me talk to Mr. Jones again. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” She scolded him. The next voice she heard was her old friend.
“Madame,” he said.
“Is he going to be alright?” She asked.
“He’ll pull through.” Mr. Jones said, looking down at Taylor. His face was shiny with a thin sheen of sweat on it and his breathing was fast as he fought the feeling of nausea that was overwhelming him. “He’d love to throw up right about now, I don’t suppose that Kirk person is in this pitiful little town though.”
Beatriz chuckled, “No, in fact, he and the girls are in the other room playing cards. The last I checked, he was down to his boxers and a Phish T-shirt.”
“Fish?” He asked, confused.
“Nevermind. How long has he been sick? I’m sure he’s overreacting a bit, but he does sound terrible.” She asked, sitting up.
“Well, it’s…3:09 now,” he said, looking down at his watch, “and I think it was about 10:30 or so when it hit him. So, that’s close to five hours now. His poor mother just went to bed a few minutes ago.”
“Ah. Did you assure her he would be alright?” Beatriz asked.
“Of course. Oh, there he went again.” He said.
“The bathroom?” She asked, standing up and walking out to where the others were all gathered around the coffee table in various states of undress. Strangely enough, Camille seemed to be the best at poker as she still wore a black lacy bra and a small, black velvet skirt, red tights and both her black platform sandals.
“Yes.” The man answered, “He gets up every now and then and bounds in there and hugs the toilet. But, as you know, nothing much happens. Some cramps, a dry heave or two, then he gives up and comes back in here and falls down on the bed, with a groan. His little brother Zachary has set up camp in here, watching it all, but seemingly unable to get himself to do much else. It’s been quite an exciting evening here in BFE, all things considered.”
“Oh, aren’t you enjoying yourself, Mr. Jones?” She asked, as she watched Melanie peel off her camisole, throwing it in Kirk’s face.
“Hmmm, let me think a moment…no.” He answered almost immediately. “Ah, here comes the little psychic girl.” He said as Avery sleepily walked past him and into the bathroom, dragging her blanket behind her. “Now that’s a freaky little set-up. Those two have some sort of bond I’ve not seen between human and vampire. She seems to be able to hear him as if they were using the telephone. I suspect, he could hear her if she knew how to send her thoughts back to him.”
“Fascinating.” Beatriz said, walking over to the window and looking out at the city lights. “Well, I don’t suppose there is anything more I can do from here. Sonya,” she said looking over at the couch, “did you need to say anything more to Taylor?”
Looking up from the magazine she was perusing, she shook her head, “I guess not. Just tell him to hang in there–we’ve all been there. And I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Did you get all that?” Beatriz asked.
Mr. Jones yawned, “Yes, Madam. Do you think it would be alright if I went to sleep? I’m not sure the boy will be nodding off this morning. He seems to be in great distress. I don’t believe he will be going anywhere though. And his family seems to be watching him closely.”
“I think that would be alright. Just so they know to wake you if they are at all concerned.” She answered.
“Thank you, Lady. Well, good night.” He said.
“Good night, Mr. Jones. And good luck on your trip tomorrow.”
“Thank you, I fear I shall need it.” He said, and he hung up the phone and went into the bathroom to check on Taylor. Just as he knew he would be, Taylor was sitting cross-legged in front of the toilet, his head on his arms, leaning heavily on the white porcelain. Avery smoothed his hair and whispered in his ear. Mr. Jones interrupted, “Master Taylor, I believe I shall retire if that is alright with you.”
Avery turned to the man, “He said go on and if he’s dead in the morning, it was nice knowing you.”
The man smiled back at her, “Tell him not to get his hopes up. I believe he shall live and I would bet that he will never eat like that again. An unpleasant lesson, but a necessary one.” He said, and then he turned and went out the door, leaving the two to themselves.
“Tell him to fuck off.” Taylor groaned.
“Tay! Mom would kill me if I said that, and you too! Besides, he already left.” Avery answered. Then, she stood up and took a washcloth from the cabinet and put it under the faucet, turning the cold water on. Squeezing the water out, she placed it on the back of his neck. “Are you feeling any better?” She asked, hopefully.
“No.” He sniffed. She looked up to see Zac standing in the doorway.
“Hey, Ave. Any change?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. She shook her head and both of them watched as Taylor began to crawl over to Zac, laying his head on his feet.
“Please, Zac…” he said. “If you could just…I don’t know…kill me or something. Just try. Please, if you love me…” he looked up at his little brother, tears in his eyes, pleading.
Zac didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, “Oh, Taylor–don’t even joke about that. God!” He said and he reached down to pull his brother back up on his feet. “C’mon, the sun’s gonna be up soon and you’ll just float off to Tayland and it’ll all just go away.” He said, slowly walking him back to his bed. Sitting down next to him, he watched him curl into a fetal position, his hands pressed to his stomach. Avery sat on Zac’s knee. “God, Tay,” he said, “you sound like Mom when she went into labor with Zoë.” Avery looked at Zac and nodded.
“I wish that was the problem, at least then I’d know it was gonna end eventually!” Taylor sobbed.
Zac shook his head and stood up, going over to the windows and pulling the drapes back. “Know what? As soon as the sun starts to rise, it’ll shine in and I’ll bet you’ll go to sleep faster than normal. Then, me or Avie will close’em, ok?”
He was answered with a groan and a nod. “Oh god, Zac. Even my hair hurts. My thumbs hurt.” Taylor said, rolling over toward them. “Remember the time we raided the liquor cabinet over at Annette Simmons’ mom’s house?”
“Ugh, don’t even mention that.” Zac said, closing his eyes, trying to put the thoughts out of his head. “I was so sick the next day, I puked all over the laundry room. Then, it made me sicker when I had to clean it up.”
“Alright, take that times a hundred.” He hissed, pulling his legs up toward his chest. “Ohhh, fuck me, it hurts so bad…”
“Taylor!” Avery said again.
“I don’t think he knows what he’s saying Avie.” Zac smiled. They watched as their brother rolled over onto his back, his knees bent, tears running down into his hair. She looked at Zac and shrugged, then she got down and picked up the washcloth again, wiping Taylor’s brow and snuggling close to him. She reached down to the foot of the bed and got her blanket, covering herself and settling in next to him. Taylor closed his eyes as his little sister hummed in his ear and comforted him as if he were a colicky baby, rubbing his stomach and stroking his hair. Zac got up and sat in the chair at Taylor’s desk, turning on the computer. He looked at the clock, knowing that in less than two hours now, the sun would begin to rise and he prayed that his brother would be able to rest. It just wouldn’t do to have a lethargic Taylor at a Hanson concert. A sound by the door made him turn. Isaac stood in the doorway, looking at Avery and Taylor.
“Zac, you better get some sleep.” He said, walking into the room and over to him. “How’s Miss Priss?” He asked.
Zac laughed, “Bet you don’t call him that when he’s awake.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow, “Well, if the shoe fits…it’s his own fault. If he wouldn’t have got all bent out of shape at Mr. Jones–“
Zac interrupted, “Ike, now I don’t want you to eat for two or three weeks. No pizza, no hamburgers, no turkey leftovers, no cereal for breakfast–don’t eat anything. Then, tell me how you’re feeling afterwards. Taylor loves food. He always has, especially Mom’s food. It was coming no matter what. And now, he’s sick as a dog, so lay off.”
“I know.” Isaac said softly. I keep hearing him in the bathroom. “Did he barf?”
Zac twirled the chair around with his foot, “No, he can’t.”
“Well, what if he stuck his finger down his throat?” Isaac said, looking over at the bed as Taylor turned over onto his side.
“He tried. Mr. Jones says, everything they eat just stays with them. That’s how they can live on just a few pints of blood a week. Or is it gallons?” He shrugged as Isaac envisioned gallon jugs filled with blood sitting in the refrigerator. A shiver went up his spine and he shook his head, then looked back at Zac.
“Why don’t you go to bed, and I’ll stay up with him? I haven’t heard him moan or groan for a while now, maybe he’s getting better.” Isaac offered.
Zac stood up, “Maybe I will. We can all go to bed once the sun is up anyway. At least I hope so.” He stepped over to the bed. Avery appeared to have dropped off to sleep, but Taylor’s eyes were open again and looking into his. “Night, Tay. Ike’s gonna stay up with ya. I hope you feel better, man.”
“Thanks.” He breathed. “You all don’t have to stay up, not if you’re not gonna put me out of my misery anyway.” He tried to smile.
“Well, I’m not, so I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” Zac said turning for the door.
Taylor raised his hand in a halfhearted wave, then plopped his arm back down on the bed. “Ike, how about you put Avie back in her bed, I don’t want to squish her.” He asked his brother.
“Good idea.” Isaac said as he walked over and picked her up. When he came back, Taylor was in the bathroom again. Isaac stood in the doorway watching as he wretched over the toilet, but produced nothing. Finally, he lay back on the floor and put his feet up on the seat.
“If I just lay here, real still, Ike,” Taylor said, turning his head towards his brother, “could you just maybe, like, jump right here?” He said, pointing to his stomach. “Wrestlers do that kinda stuff all the time and it worked last time.”
Isaac furrowed his brow and stepped into the room, looking down at his brother, “No–get real, Taylor.” He said.
Taylor’s face crumpled, “Please…” he cried.
“Tay, you look like E.T. laying there like that.” Isaac said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Remember? When they find him in the stream and bring him back and the Mom walks in and spills her coffee?”
Taylor turned over and his feet plopped back down on the floor as he curled up, “You hate me.” He said softly, sniffing.
Isaac rolled his eyes and stooped down closer, “I don’t hate you. I love you. You’re my little brother and you always will be.”
“You just love me ‘cause you know Mom would be pissed if you didn’t.” Taylor pulled his knees up close to his chest and grimaced.
“You are so full of it, Tay.” Isaac said putting his hand on his brother’s head. “You’re pretty warm. Is that supposed to happen?” He asked, concern in his voice.
“I don’t know…this has never happened before. Sonya said it just has to go away on it’s own.” Taylor said, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Well, it’s not doing you any good laying in here on the bathroom floor.” Isaac said, putting his hand on Taylor’s shoulder, “C’mon, let’s get you back in your bed. If you have to barf, then do it. But, I have a feeling nothing’s gonna happen.”
“Don’t say that! If this goes on much longer, I’m gonna take a sledge hammer and slam it into my head. Yeah, if I could just like, go into a coma or something…” Taylor said as Isaac helped him stand.
“You do that every day. So, just give it a little more time, the sun’s almost up. It’s getting pink out there already.” Isaac told him. Taylor lay down once again in his bed, taking the pillow and curling himself around it. For a moment, Isaac just looked at him, then he sat down on the side of the bed, “Tay,” he started, then he just sighed. “I’m really, really sorry that you’re sick, ok? For that matter, I’m really sorry any of this ever happened. I should have seen that girl hanging around and done something–“
“Ike,” Taylor interrupted.
“No, let me finish.” Isaac said, holding up his hands. “I saw her and you told me there was something weird about her, but all I saw was a cute little blonde. I didn’t listen to you and I didn’t do anything when I noticed you looking sick and stuff. But, what’s done is done and I can’t change any of it. I’ve tried to just sort of…look the other way. I didn’t want to know what you did when you went out.” He looked away for a minute and swallowed, “I just need to know Tay, that you won’t ever…God, this is hard. I need to know that you’d never hurt one of the kids or Mom or anybody.”
“I swear, Ike. I’d never hurt any of them, ever. Or you either, ok?” Taylor said softly. Isaac looked at his eyes and he knew Taylor believed what he was saying. He just prayed the hunger didn’t make his brother forget that promise.
~~~~~
When finally, the sun peaked over the horizon, Taylor’s exhausted body had pretty much given out on him. The pain was still there, but the sunlight acted like morphine–he didn’t care anymore. When Mr. Jones came back in the room at 6:45, Isaac lay on the foot of Taylor’s bed, sound asleep. Taylor was on his stomach, his arm hanging off the bed and his face smashed into the pillow, distorting his usually attractive features. The soft sunlight shone off his bare back and the man rushed over and pulled the curtains closed.
Walking back around the bed, he stooped down to look at his face, “Master Taylor?” He said softly, hoping the boy was out.
Taylor lifted his head a bit, “Am I dead yet?” he asked, his voice all scratchy.
“Why yes, as a matter of fact you are.” The man answered. “And your brother appears to be as well.” He then turned out the lamp and fluffed up the pillows. “Would you like me to wake him and get him to his own room? Your flight is not for a good while, he could still get in a few more hours sleep. I shall arrange everything as far as your luggage goes. You need not worry about any of that.”
“Uh-huh.” Taylor mumbled. He then turned over onto his back, wincing.
Mr. Jones put his hand on his forehead, “Well, you’re not green or burning up with fever, or any of that sort of thing. I’ll bet the worst is over. If you can sleep now, it will make all the difference once five o’clock rolls around and you need to be on your way. Can you do that?” He asked, standing up.
“Yeah, sure.” Taylor said, closing his eyes. Mr. Jones then went about getting Isaac up and then going about his business. He was in a good mood, as he would be joined soon by others who would help him. Sonya had informed him that Kirk would be keeping his eye on Taylor once they were all back together and that was a relief to him. Kirk was not taken in by the boy’s charms and was physically strong enough to take whatever was thrown at him. As Isaac mindlessly walked out of the room, Mr. Jones pulled the door shut behind him, leading him to his room. The darkness and silence was a comfort to Taylor in some ways, but in others, it was not. Now his mind had nothing to focus on but the feeling of his body being ravaged by a little cherry pie and a dab of cranberry sauce.
~~~~~
At 5:03, Taylor could feel himself being pulled this way and that and just generally being messed with. He had finally fallen asleep once the sun crept high into the sky. As he flopped back down on the bed, he tried to open his eyes, but they just weren’t cooperating. “Well, I certainly hope you are feeling better young sir. The time has come to ‘get a move on’, as your father has so gently informed me." Mr. Jones said, pulling Taylor’s foot up on his knee and tying his shoe. He reached up and swatted his cheeks and was pleased when momentarily at least, the boy’s eyes opened wide. “Very good, sir! I was afraid you really had expired for a while there.”
“God…” Taylor said, reaching up and rubbing his face and then his head, mussing his hair.
“Come along now, we mustn’t be late.” Mr. Jones persuaded him into a standing position. As they went out the door and into the hallway, Taylor ran his hand along the wall, keeping himself upright. Step by step he went down until his feet hit the floor of the hallway. “Can you stand alone, or shall I help you?” Mr. Jones asked.
Taylor took in a deep breath and waved the man away. He stood for a moment listening to the sounds of the house. Of course, the television was blaring in the living room, the microwave was being utilized in the kitchen and in a bedroom somewhere, he could hear Avery and Mackenzie arguing over something. His father strolled past him, “Hey Tay, glad you’re up buddy, I was just about to go up there and set off a bomb!” He smiled, “C’mon, let’s get a move on.” He said, heading out the front door.
Slowly, he turned and went into the living room. Jessica was standing in front of the television, not able to stand leaving it until the very last second possible. “Hi Tay, you feeling better?” She asked, glancing his way from the corner of her eye.
“Um, yeah, sorta.” He said.
She reached down and turned off the set, then looked at him and smiled, “Who dressed you?” She giggled.
Just then, Zac walked in. “Dude! Are you gonna wear that?” He laughed, staring at his brother.
Diana walked in, her purse on her shoulder and Zoë's hand in her’s, “He looks nice! Don’t listen to ‘em Taylor honey, I think you look sweet.” Then she walked out the door, calling “Alright, we’re leaving! Anyone not in the van in one minute gets left behind! I’m serious!” And then she was gone, leaving Taylor looking down at his outfit.
He wore navy blue dress slacks, a white shirt and a sweater vest over it. At his neck, he felt a tie. “Aw, man! I can’t wear this!” He groused, pulling at the silky noose.
As he headed for the hallway, he was met with Mr. Jones who was prodding Avery and Mackenzie before him, “Where do you think you are going? Your father is waiting.”
“I’m gonna change out of this goofy outfit–you know, I can dress myself.” He said.
“You look impeccable. With a face like that, you shouldn’t wear yard sale castoffs and things from other people’s rubbish bins.” Mr. Jones replied as he stepped towards the front door, “Change when you get to the hotel, you’re out of time.” He said, as Avery stuck her head back in.
“Tay, Dad’s getting mad.” Just then Taylor heard the familiar honk of the family van and he sighed and made his way to the door, closing it behind him and leaving the house silent once again.
Stepping into the van, his father shot him a look. “I’m sorry, I just woke up and stuff.” Taylor said, finding the only remaining empty seat next to Mr. Jones.
“Where’re you going, Tay?” Mackenzie asked.
“The same place you are.” Taylor replied, leaning his head back and putting his feet up on his mother’s seat.
“Well, you look like you’re going to church.” The little boy said.
“Whatever.” Taylor sighed. He then pulled on the tie again, untying it and handing it to Mr. Jones, as he closed his eyes, folding his hands across his stomach.
It was nothing short of a miracle, but at 6:10 the flight was leaving complete with all nine Hansons and Mr. Jones. None of them had had a good night’s sleep the night before, so it was a fairly uneventful ride with various members nodding off or challenging each other to games of dots and tic-tac-toe. Taylor was still nursing his upset stomach and was extremely quiet the whole trip. He was mothered by not only Diana, but by Jessica and Avery as well, all of them stroking or patting him and whispering words of comfort. About halfway through, Taylor kicked off his shoes, pulling his feet up on the seat and laying his head down on his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. “Aw, man.” Zac snorted, “Are we gonna have to smell your stinky feet the whole way there?”
Before Taylor could say anything back, Mr. Jones casually answered from behind his copy of the New York Times, “He has no body odor.”
“Ha! That’s what you think. Just wait’ll he gets offstage tomorrow night, you’ll experience some body odor!” Zac retorted, laughing. Taylor raised his head, giving Zac a look.
“That is not possible, unless someone threw some aromatic substance on him or his clothes.” The man answered, folding the paper up and setting it in his lap. He then turned to Taylor, “Those are very comfortable shoes, son. They’re Gucci.”
He’d lain his head back down and so his voice was muffled, “They hurt my feet.” Taylor muttered.
“Gucci shoes do not hurt people’s feet.” Mr. Jones answered.
Taylor raised his head, “Why don’t you take the day off? I don’t care if the Queen of England hand made those shoes especially for me, they hurt. And would you not listen in all the time on my private conversations?” Isaac and Zac were both snickering now.
“You do not have the authority to give me the day off, though I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Mr. Jones said.
Zac turned around in his seat, facing the man, “How come you do this? I mean, you don’t seem like you enjoy it.”
“On the contrary,” he answered, “I enjoy the company of Taylor and his kin much more than other people. They are extremely logical and open with their feelings. They seldom lie. They are just much more interesting. Besides, the Lady Beatriz pays me very well.”
“Well, aren’t you afraid?” He whispered.
“Afraid of what?” Mr. Jones countered.
Zac shook his head and leaned in a little closer, “If I were you, I would have been afraid last night.” He said, looking over at Taylor, who wrinkled up his face at him like he was daft.
“I suppose if I were going to be afraid of anyone, he is the one I would be afraid of. But, while he is very openly hostile towards the Lady and her edicts, I believe he wouldn’t stray from his upbringing. Your parents seem to have managed to instill strong values in all of you, and at least for the moment, that holds up for him. But, no one else would dare go against the Lady.”
“You’re talking about me as if I weren’t here.” Taylor reminded them. “God, that drives me crazy!” From behind him, his mother flicked him in the head.
Now Isaac turned in his seat as well, “Why is everyone so scared of her? I mean, we met her–she’s pretty and stuff, but she just acts kinda uppity, not like she’s all bad or anything.”
Mr. Jones smiled and picked up his paper again, “Master Taylor, do you believe the Lady is worthy of fear?”
He raised an eyebrow, “When she’s pissed, yeah.”
Mr. Jones began to read again so now all of them had their eyes on their brother, “What’s she like then?” Zac asked eagerly.
“Well, she’s sort of like Mom, but with all this extra stuff. She’s all nice and stuff ‘til you do something she doesn’t like and then she throws things or just flips out on you.” Taylor answered, closing his eyes again.
“Don’t go to sleep now!” Zac exclaimed, “I wanna know details. Who’d she get mad at? Was it you? Did she open a can of whoop-ass on you?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Taylor said, his eyes still closed.
Zac laughed again, “She did, didn’t she!?”
“Shut the fuck up, man–” Taylor started, but the next flick from his mother was a bit more violent than the last one, leaving his hair standing up momentarily ‘til gravity caused it to fall back down on his head. “Ow!” He said, ducking down into the seat. “Wanna know what it’s like? It’s just like that, only worse.”
“I do not want to hear that kind of talk out of either of you! Your brother and sisters hear that and they think it’s alright to use trashy language like that!” Diana said. She then leaned her chin on her hand and closed her eyes. Walker continued to read a worn copy of ‘The Two Towers’, ignoring the chaos around him.
By the time the plane landed in Chicago, Taylor’s legs were draped across the armrest and over onto Mr. Jones’ lap. The rest of him was curled up in the cramped seat. Though he hated to wake the boy up, he knew they had no choice. Carefully, he picked up Taylor’s feet and sat them down on the floor, making sure he didn’t slip out of the seat. As the other passengers made their way down the aisle, the family stayed in their seats, preferring to wait ‘til the last moment to leave the plane. “Taylor, honey–” Diana said, leaning in close to his face, “we’re here.”
Taylor shifted in his seat, slowly opening his eyes and looking up at his mother. “We are?” He asked sleepily.
“Yeah, man. You snored the whole way here.” Zac chided him.
Sitting up and rubbing his face, he looked up at his brother, “I did?”
Isaac was rolling his eyes as Zac pressed on, grabbing his backpack from the overhead compartment. “Yeah, and Mr. Jones had to wipe up your drool off the seat.”
Taylor blinked and looked over at the man, “Sorry.” He said quietly.
“Oh, please.” The man said, standing up and stretching his legs, “Other than an aversion to food, your body is perfect. Your kind do not snore.” He said haughtily.
“You call that body perfect?!” Zac exclaimed, puffing out his chest, “This, is what a perfect body looks like.”
“Zac, take your perfect body out of the aisle, thank you.” Isaac said, pushing his way past his little brother. He led the way down the aisle, followed closely by Mackenzie and Jessica. Avery was next as she tucked her hand into the back pocket of Zac’s jeans. Diana picked up Zoë and proceeded to the door, watching as Walker and Mr. Jones prodded Taylor up and out of the seat and into the walkway. The serious look on his face let it be known that he was still a bit out of it. As soon as his feet hit the carpet of the terminal, he heard the distinctive sound of girls. Excited girls. He looked up to see Isaac and Zac surrounded by fans, some having a hard time not screaming.
“What is this?” Mr. Jones asked.
“Fans.” Both Taylor and Walker said at the same time.
“Hmmm, how interesting.” Mr. Jones replied, watching the stance of each boy. Zac had a distinctly hostile bit of body language, while Isaac was a little more hospitable. As they stepped up into the melee, Taylor took on an air of friendliness Mr. Jones wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. The boy had always appeared surly and even ill-mannered at times in his presence. Diana and Walker stood back, pulling the other children with them. Mr. Jones joined them. “Is this safe?”
“Pretty much.” Walker replied. “They can get pretty excited, but it’s gotten better lately.” Beside them, the children all looked bored, but it was something they were accustomed to and so they just waited.
Taylor did his best to pretend all was well, though in reality, his stomach still twisted in knots and in his mind, the jumble of thoughts that were being picked up were becoming too much to handle. Isaac looked over at his brother and noticed him swallowing constantly and just generally looking out of sorts. He’d answered a question or two in a way that made no sense whatsoever and the girls were beginning to notice. “Guys,” Isaac said, “we’re gonna have to go. It’s been a long flight and all and we still have to get to the hotel.” He put his arm around Taylor’s shoulder, hoping the girls would understand, but it didn’t really look like it was going to be that easy. As pens and CD cases were thrust at them, and the girls became even louder at the prospect of the boys walking away, Walker stepped up.
“Boys, it’s time to wrap it up. We’ll see you girls at the show tomorrow night, alright?” He spoke in a fatherly tone that left no room for argument.
As they turned around to go back, Taylor saw a welcome sight; Kirk came toward him at a trot. “Dude, sorry I’m late. Don’t tell Sonya, ok?” He said.
“Oh man!” Taylor said as he threw his arms around him. “What are you doing here?”
“I think I’m your new bodyguard.” Kirk answered as Mr. Jones stepped up and joined them. “Hey dude.” He said to the man.
Mr. Jones looked pointedly down at his watch and then back at the young man. Walker stepped over, “Have we met?” He asked.
“Um, no sir. I’m Kirk. The lady has assigned me to keep a watch over Taylor.” He answered.
“I thought that was Mr. Jones’ job.” Walker said, looking over at the man.
“Only during the daylight hours when he is sleeping. After that, my job is done for the day, other than travel arrangements, business, things of that nature.”
“But that’s what Chris does.” Walker stated.
“Well,” Mr. Jones said, picking up Taylor’s backpack, “we shall see. If he is understanding of the delicate situation, it is possible that the lady will still allow him to remain in Taylor’s employ.”
Both Walker and Taylor raised their eyebrows at the statement. “He is employed by the band, not Taylor. That will have to be a group decision.” Walker said.
Both Zac and Isaac were once again taken aback at the turn of events. Kirk just stood, watching it all, including the girls who still hovered nearby. As the men became less aware of them, they were slowly moving back toward the boys. Taylor closed his eyes for a moment, then turned his head back to them, shaking his head. Kirk sensed Taylor’s unease and stepped between them, holding his hands out. “Sorry, ladies. We’ll have to catch you later, alright?”
“Oh, please! Just a minute!” One girl pleaded. She was soon joined by all the others, all asking for just one more chance to meet or talk to the band.
As his irritation grew, Kirk seemed to physically grow along with it. He stood taller, and his eyes grew darker, “I’m sorry.” He said and he watched as Taylor and his family began to make their way to the exit. Turning, he followed, keeping himself between Taylor and his followers. Mr. Jones dropped back to walk next to him. “So, what’s up with the little dude?” He asked the man.
“Which little dude are you referring to?” Mr. Jones asked.
Rolling his eyes, Kirk rephrased the question, “What is the matter with the young prince? He doesn’t appear to be in the best of health.”
“He lost the battle with Thanksgiving dinner.” The man answered, watching Taylor stagger a little in front of him. He started to run up and assist him, but Walker stepped over to do it instead.
“Really!? That sucks, man.” Kirk said sympathetically.
“You’re telling me.” The man answered. “He was up all day practically. Where are your cohorts? I expected more than one of you.” He said, glancing behind him at the girls who still followed.
“Sonya’s up front, waiting at the van.” Kirk said.
“Van? I thought I ordered a limo to be waiting.” Mr. Jones said, irritation in his voice.
“You did, but when he found out about it, Taylor told her he didn’t want one.” Kirk replied. Up ahead of them, they could see Sonya pulling up to the door.
“In the future, I would appreciate my orders being followed. There are reasons for the young master to be out of the sunlight, if you remember.” Mr. Jones said, his voice icy.
Kirk raised his hands up, “Hey, that’s between you and Sonya. I’m just the grunt.”
“Whatever.” He said, marching up to join the family again.
As the family stopped to get into the van, Kirk turned and stopped the little parade. “I know you want to meet ‘em and all, but really, they need to go to their hotel and get some shut-eye.” He said, giving them time to get safely into the vehicle.
“Is Taylor still sick? He’s acting weird.” A young girl with glasses perched on her nose asked.
“Yeah–he’s still gonna do the show tomorrow–right?” Another asked.
Kirk looked back at the van. “Sometime today, Kirk.” He heard in his mind. “He’s fine, he just needs a nice long nap right now, and a nice warm dinner. He’ll be there, don’t worry.” He said, then he turned and quickly made his way to the van, leaving the girls watching as the van pulled out into the street.