Paul woke up around 7 a.m. and was immediately disconcerted without the low ceiling of his bunk above him. As much as he would like to deny it, he got used to sleeping in that coffin-like bed when he was on the road. He rubbed his eyes, hearing the almost inaudible whine of the mute television and remembering that he and CJ had been watching a DVD of Dogma before he had passed out. She was asleep beside him, curled into the fetal position, the blanket pulled up only over her waist. She was the easiest person to sleep next to. She hardly moved when she slept, and her small frame fit comfortably in his embrace.
The drama from the night before had completely fled his mind, but it pressed at the edges of his consciousness as he gently pulled his arm from beneath CJ’s body. He got up to go to the bathroom, wincing when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He would definitely have to have a talk with CJ about raising her standards. While he was relieving some of the pressure in his bladder, full memory of the night before cracked open in his mind. “DJ.” The utterance escaped his lips involuntarily, and he was out of the bathroom a moment later. He slid open the curtain to CJ’s bunk and peeked inside. He wasn’t there. “Oh, crap.” Paul looked down at his watch. “Oh, crap,” he repeated. They hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, let alone till morning. He returned to the back room and knelt next to CJ, touching her lightly on her shoulder and leaning close to her ear to whisper her name. She responded without opening her eyes or turning off of her side, lifting her hand and slapping it against his mouth. A smile played at the edges of her lips as she felt his scruff beneath her palm. “Ceej, come on,” he whispered.
“Paul, go away,” she mumbled.
“DJ’s not in your bed.”
CJ’s eyes shot open and she sat up, feeling around on the floor for her glasses. Paul found them and placed them on her nose. “Where the hell is he, then?” Paul shrugged, shaking his head. Her eyes drifted to the digital clock on the DVD player. “No one came for him?” She asked, her voice softer, taking on a hint of melancholy. Paul let out an audible breath as he pulled her to her feet and she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.
CJ looked in at Benji, sleeping in his boxers and splayed across his bed, on his stomach, the covers twisted and tangled about his feet. His bunk had a funk that was somehow, and thankfully, contained by the curtain that was usually kept closed. “Hey, Benj?” She whispered. He murmured, frowned and turned onto his side, facing away from CJ. “Benji,” she said harshly, punching him on the shoulder, connecting on his Italian motif GC tattoo.
He protested, covering his shoulder with his hand. “What the fuck, CJ?”
“Do you know where DJ is?”
There was a brief pause. “Do I know what in the who?” He mumbled.
“DJ. That kid we found yesterday,” she said exasperatedly, not bothering to keep her voice down anymore. Paul called to her from the hall and she started to climb out of Benji’s bunk after smacking him on the back of the head. Benji ignored the assault but put his pillow over his head to block out any more conversation. When she got out, Paul was pointing down at Joel’s bunk, a slight smile on his face.
“Found him,” he told her.
CJ bent and pulled the edge of the curtain aside, finding the little boy curled up against Joel’s body, the twin’s head tucked down so his chin rested against the top of DJ’s head. The two of them could easily have been brothers, both with pale skin and dark features, long eyelashes and rosy lips. CJ could now effortlessly picture little Joel in footie pajamas, running around the house with his twin terror and wreaking havoc on his neighborhood. She almost felt bad for their mom. “How cute is that?”
Paul knelt next to her and nodded in agreement. “Pretty goddamn cute.” DJ stirred at the sound of their voices, slowly opening his dark eyes. “Hey there big man,” Paul whispered. DJ smiled, reaching out to Paul, catching him about the neck. He pulled the little boy out of the bunk and stood him up on the floor. The little boy beamed at the two of them, his hair standing up on end from static electricity.
“The sun’s up,” DJ whispered. “Is it time for Recess?”
Paul and CJ looked at one another, then back at DJ. “Um, what?” CJ inquired.
“Recess,” he repeated. “It’s a cartoon. It should be on.”
“Oh,” CJ breathed. “Okay, yeah. Go ahead on into the back and look for it.” The little boy bounced away, disappearing through the curtains. Joel roused in DJ’s wake, more accurately, in the absence of the little boy’s body heat, and got out of bed to pee. He found Paul and CJ in the back with the kid, sitting on the floor, watching cartoons. Paul was reclining on his side, propping up his head with one elbow, and CJ lie on her stomach, propping her head up with both hands. They faced one another and whispered back and forth as DJ sat Indian style just in front of them, all bathed in the bluish flickering glow of the television set. CJ looked over at Joel and motioned him in.
“Hi, Joel,” DJ said, taking his eyes off of the screen for just a moment to greet him.
“’Sup, Deej,” he replied, mussing his hair as CJ bent her legs at the knee to give Joel some room to sit. He sat down and she rested her legs in his lap. “How’s he doing?” He asked, referring quietly to DJ.
The three of them looked at him, engrossed in Recess, quieter than a little guy his age was expected to ever be. “He seems to be doing fine,” Paul said.
“We figure if we keep him occupied he won’t think about his mom,” CJ added.
Joel ran his fingers lightly up the back of her left leg as he listened, over smooth milk-chocolate skin, making her shiver. He knew how ticklish she was and just how to make her squirm. She smacked his hand and started to shift positions but he promised not to attack her again. “You still think she’s coming?” Joel asked, referring to DJ’s mom.
“She’s got to,” CJ insisted. “I mean… this is her baby. Obviously he’s pretty well taken care of most of the time.”
“Yeah, he’s smart, well fed, no holes in his shoes-” Paul continued.
“Why would anyone give him up? Why would anyone just give up-” CJ realized her mistake mid-sentence, but she finished her thought anyway, to try to hide her embarrassment. “-their kids,” she finished. She looked into Paul’s sympathetic eyes a moment before he looked away, rubbing his hand through his hair. That was a nervous habit of his. “Oh, crap,” CJ breathed and looked back at Joel, who blinked almost blankly at her, still like a deer just spotted in the woods, his hand resting just below her calf. “I’m sorry, Joel,” she said quickly, sitting up and facing him. “I’m a fucking idiot, I’m… so sorry, Jesus Christ-”
Joel shook his head slightly, very directly looking into her eyes as she spoke. After letting her throw out a string of apologies, he stopped her. “CJ, seriously. You didn’t mean anything by it; it’s all good, okay? Don’t worry.”
She began to reach out for his hand, but thought better of it. “Yeah,” she said softly, putting a hand to her forehead in a gesture of personal idiocy. Joel slid away from her and silently got up, walking out of the room. Her eyes lingered on the empty doorway for a few moments, then she turned back to Paul. “God, I suck.” Paul put his hand on her head and gave her twists an affectionate tug.
DJ turned around and tapped Paul’s shoulder. “Did Joel’s mom leave him at a concert too?” He asked innocently, his eyes wide and inquisitive. “Is that why he’s a singer?”
Paul sat up, chuckling at the kid’s thought construction and putting his hand against the little boy’s chest. Finally settling on words that were kind enough and straightforward enough to convey the story to a child, he spoke. “It, uh, it was Joel’s dad that actually left him, left his family… a long time ago… and, yeah, that’s kinda a big reason he’s a singer.”
“Will I be a singer?” He asked the two of them, scooting closer. “Since I got left at a show?”
“Well, I don’t know,” CJ said, touching DJ’s cheek. “Do you want to be a singer?” DJ shook his head “no.” “Then likely not,” CJ concluded.
“Do you think-” DJ began, then stopped to think of a way to express his sentiment. “Is he sad?” He asked softly, looking at the doorway through which Joel had disappeared.
Both Paul and CJ sat back and thought about that one before they answered. Paul spoke up first. “I… think he is sometimes.”
“But he’s got us to keep him happy most of the time,” CJ quickly offered, when DJ’s bottom lip began to quiver at Paul’s honest telling of Joel’s perceived emotions.
“I miss my mom,” DJ mumbled, tears beginning to well in his eyes.
Paul scooped him up and set him in his lap, hugging the little boy against his chest as DJ folded into his arms. “Don’t cry, dude. We’re gonna find her. She probably just… got lost and is on her way back here to get you.” CJ discreetly slipped her hand into Paul’s and gave it a firm squeeze. She knew he was always ill at ease lying to anyone, which was why he had developed the habit of adding a sarcastic tone to what he actually thought about people and trying to be off-putting from the start in order to weed out the undesirable elements in a crowd.
“You think so?” DJ sniffed, running a wrist under his nose. “I just want to go home.”
“We’re not going anywhere until we know your mom has you and you’re okay.”
CJ put her hand on his tiny leg. “We’re going to get you home, all right?”
“We should take him to the police,” Paul told CJ, reprising the conversation from the night before. This time she agreed out of desperation; there were no other options.
“Yeah. They’ll best know how to find his mother, I guess.”
DJ looked between the two of them curiously. “Well, we’ll get you something to eat, then take you to the station,” Paul said to DJ.
“Can I have McDonald’s?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Can I have McDonalds?” CJ asked Paul.
Paul leaned towards her and nudged her with his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips. “We’ll see.”
“DJ, why don’t you go wash up and then we’ll go get you something to eat, okay?” CJ said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her gaze never breaking with Paul’s. DJ obeyed, disappearing into the corridor.
Paul’s smirk grew into a full-blown smile in his absence. “What’ve you got going on in that kinky head of yours?” Paul asked rhetorically, knowing he wouldn’t receive a verbal answer.
Benji was in the bathroom brushing his teeth when DJ peeked in at him. He reached up and tugged at the edge of Benji’s boxer shorts. “Hi, Benji,” he said.
Benji looked down mid-brush. “Hey, dude,” he mumbled past the toothbrush and through the foam. He spit out a mouthful of blue goo and showed his teeth to the kid. “They look clean?” DJ nodded. “You need to wash your face up?” He nodded again. “Okay.” Benji cleaned off his toothbrush and returned it to the countertop, then he bent down and opened the cabinets below the sink. He retrieved the bucket and closed the cabinets, turning it over and standing DJ on it so he could reach the sink. He then adjusted the water to a nice warm temperature and watched DJ carefully cup the water and splash it onto his face. He chuckled when he thought back to seeing his little sister this size. Of course, he, too, had been much smaller at the time, and she had shot up to outgrow him at one point, but he still marveled at the fact that this was a little person standing before him, one that could think and act and do for himself. Benji cupped water into his hands and copied DJ’s motions, washing the sleep from his eyes. He caught DJ staring up at him as the water dripped off of his eyelashes, and he grinned. “Tell you what,” Benji said.
“What?” DJ asked.
“I’m going to give you a punk-rock hairstyle. You like that?” DJ nodded emphatically, color edging into his cheeks in his excitement, losing his balance on the bucket and almost falling. Benji caught him, then stood him up on the countertop, on the edge of the sink so he could see into the mirror. Benji stood just behind him so he wouldn’t fall off, looking over the little guy’s shoulder.
“We passed it on the way here. It’s, like, a couple blocks down,” CJ said, referring to the police station as she hugged the blanket around the two of them. “I think so, anyway.”
“We should go see.” Paul said lazily, his head lolling to the right, coming to rest against CJ’s. His breath was slowing, dropping below normal, her proximity putting his whole body at ease. CJ rolled over him, attempting to get up without unwrapping the blanket. Paul slipped an arm around her waist, however, and wouldn’t let her rise.
“Paul, come on. We promised DJ.”
He sighed, knowing it was true. The two of them got up and ventured out of the back room, Paul walking close behind CJ, his hands locked around her midsection beneath the blanket, the two of them looking like some yellow and blue two-headed organism.
They looked into the bathroom and saw Benji with a very short, wet Mohawk, and DJ with a similar one. Benji was putting a few more finger-fulls of water into the kid’s dark hair to mold it. DJ was pointing into the mirror and laughing. He wanted a lip ring just like Benji’s.
“No you’re not. Not on my watch,” CJ said, talking to both Benji and DJ. DJ looked genuinely disappointed.
“Gotta listen to the ladies,” Benji told DJ. “They control the universe.”
When they passed below Billy’s bunk, he commented on their coziness. Both turned their eyes up to him at the same time and smiled. “It’s warmer this way,” Paul explained. When they got to the front of the bus and opened the door, their jaws hit the floor.
“Holy crap,” was all CJ could say.
“This sure as fuck isn’t Cleveland,” Paul commented. Obviously, when everyone had passed out and Harold, their bus driver, had returned to the bus, he must have taken off for the next venue, per schedule. They hadn’t stayed up long enough to inform him of their change in plans. That’d teach them not to stay out till 4 a.m. drinking. “Where the hell are we?”
“Milwaukee,” CJ said, barely able to pronounce the word, her mouth suddenly dry and her face numb. She gripped his hands, pressing them harder against her stomach. “Oh, crap, we totally picked this kid up and transported him across state lines. Are we, like, kidnappers now?”
“No!” Paul said, a little too loudly, his voice echoing off of the buildings around the bus. He lowered his voice and spoke quickly to dispel any notion of wrong-doing. “No, CJ,” he whispered urgently. “We both know we didn’t snatch the kid-”
“But no one else knows that,” CJ reminded him.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Paul insisted. Their breath was just barely visible in the early morning chill, and the puffs of condensation did a lousy job of filling in the empty, silent moments that followed. Finally Paul groaned aloud. “Jesus, this is just one huge mistake.”
CJ let go of the blanket and sat down on the steps of the bus, her breath coming fast and shallow. “We are freaking kidnappers,” she murmured. “We’re gonna go to jail.”
“No we’re not,” Paul said firmly. He’d been there, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back. He sat down next to CJ, giving her bare leg a reassuring squeeze. “We’re not,” he repeated, but neither of them knew how they were going to explain this to the police; anything they said was going to sound made up or crazy. Their only hope was to perhaps get a fan as a case officer, and the likelihood of that was weaker than their story. The cold started CJ’s teeth chattering and Paul shifted some cover from his body onto hers. DJ appeared behind them and looked outside at the unfamiliar terrain.
“Where are we?” He asked. Before either of them could answer, Benji emerged from the darkness within the bus, squinting out into the brightening day… then choking on his morning bowl of Cocoa Krispies.