I grabbed my head and pulled on it as if by trying to disembody myself would really get me out of this mess. I watched as the blond hair messing up the floor of the Intercooler bopped up and down, all in the while the once pretty head made contact with Joey’s boots. “Are we gonna bring this girl around in this car like she’s some seriously real-looking mannequin?” I retorted to the best of my ability.

Archie tapped his fingernails impatiently on the steering wheel. “If you shall consider cutting down on the sarcastic fireball you’re aiming towards me, maybe we could exchange a few brilliant ideas on how to eliminate that mannequin of yours,” he answered, trying to match the dosage I’m trying. “Look, getting rid of Hawaiian Barbie is no biggy, in fact, the green dumpster over there looks like quite a nice motel for Barbie for the next couple of hours,” he said, motioning to a dumpster behind the row of stores. I couldn’t imagine the look on Barbie’s face upon waking up to bed of rotten junk and foul trash. Absolutely not my idea of the first glimpse after a good knockout.

“Excuse me,” the blond-haired guy voiced out timidly. I almost felt sorry for this guy. His once pressed shirt was horribly wrinkled as the result of sitting squished up next to Joey. His hair was a bad case of head issue and his eyes were putting red wine to shame. “Maybe Sheraton sidewalk might be a good idea since she has already booked a room in advance….”

“Yea, and maybe I can help checking her in, too,” Joey added, snorting rudely. If the blond guy didn’t look like he was about to weep an ocean at the back of the Intercooler, I might have laughed my head off too. Joey’s laughter rang in my ears like some bad 70’s record and I felt strangely bad for no apparent reason. Joey hiccupped and wiped away a tear. “Are you actually for real, blondie?”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Speak for yourself, doofus. You didn’t exactly dye your hair pink last night,” I remarked. I love being smarter than Joey. He could be just plain airhead with a gun in hand. It didn’t help that he was just such a sharpshooter too. He would do SWAT team a pile of good with the ability like his. Too bad, angels gave up guiding him a long time ago and the rest was history.

“I’m a genius blond, moron,” Joey said defensively. I peeked through the rear-view mirror and saw the other blondie curved up a small smirk. “Yea, with the IQ of one-digit number,” I put in. Joey fumed and I could see that he was resisting the urge to pull the trigger. So he still loved me. I was so deeply touched.

Archie smacked his lips together and slammed a fist down on the horn, scaring the guts out of an old man crossing the street. “I’ve got the perfect plan,” he drawled. I looked at him curiously. Perfect sounded good, but perfect also sounded stupid. I bit my lip and felt it stung. “What’s the catch?”

Archie swiveled a corner and sent two vehicles slamming into each other. Horns were playing the background music and a faint sound of the police siren could be heard in the distant. “So, you’ve mistaken cute Nicky for Richardson, big deal.” He set a heavy foot on the gas pedal and off went the Intercooler trying to seize up to the speed of light. The roam of the engine drowned the shrill siren. “Both of them are ridiculously filthy rich, and I don’t see any failure in our current mission.”

Joey nodded his head and shot blondie an inquisitive look. “No kidding. There’s no way I would wear Armani only to get torn off by some chick,” he said. Archie did have a point. After all, being in the same boy group must be equally lucrative to another. “So, he’s not a bad target after all,” I concluded.

“Exactly. Now all you gotta do is figure out a plan of escape. We’re dropping you off at your home so pack your bag for one week’s worth of clothes and head off north. Seattle sounds like a safe place for a pop refugee like him.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend the situation. It might have sounded superb if I didn’t note the excessive usage of ‘you’ in the sentences. “Don’t you mean we, as in, us? Archie, tell me something,” I inquired. I could detect something extra fishy going on.

“CJ, were you temporarily deaf? Of course he had said you. We are so not going on a field trip to Seattle with you and teenybopper boy,” Joey said, waving around the gun like it was some extension of his arm. “Archie and I had booked one-way tickets to Bahamas the day after tomorrow and I don’t find a point freezing my ass in Seattle in January.”

I could not believe my tympanum. These guys could not have possibly ditched me. This was so not happening. “Are you telling me I’m stuck with boyband boy for a week in North Pole?! I thought we are in this together!” I didn’t mind Joey being his selfish self, but I could not register the fact that even sweet ol’ Archie was dumping me for Bahamas. “Can’t your trip wait for another week?”

Archie gave me an apologetic smile. I could see my double-story Mexican-style house came into view with a familiar looking Lexus parked on the driveway. “I’m sorry, sweet sistah. Look on the bright side, babe. You don’t even have to split the ransom money three way like we always did. Now that I think about it, maybe Jeremy should be next on our knockdown list,” he muttered. I knew I had a reason for loving Archie. He could always be handy if I decided to put my boyfriend to rest in peace.

The future looked bleak. I let out a sigh and threw my gaze outside the window. It looked like Jeremy was still out of town. “Can’t you like, reconsider your statement or anything?” I insisted desperately. The idea of being stuck alone with a member of a freaking boyband in the middle of nowhere didn’t seem the least appealing tome, even if the blondie was sorta cute. Just sorta cute.

The vehicle came to a halt and Archie turned to look at me with I-am-being-patient-with-you-so-get-over-it look. “I made the proposal and even schemed the whole ransom for you. Now, don’t you think that it’s time for you to get into action by yourself? You’re almost twenty-one, girl. Most twenty-one year-old girls know how to handle sticky situations like this with no problem. Don’t you think you ought to give it a shot?”

“Yea, sure. I’m sure there are millions of twenty-one year-old girls worldwide plan a kidnapping and get her dosage of fun by spree killing and handle the situation with no problem,” I said sarcastically. I opened the door and stepped out before pulling blondie out with me. “Just promise to bail me out of jail if the WWW know that they are short of one teenybopper.” I slammed the door shut and dragged blondie on the pavement, ready for a trip to Seattle.

I bit my lip and stared outside the car window. Darkness was starting to fall down the horizon. It’s been hours since we had left LA heading north to Seattle, and judging by the light snow that was starting to fall outside, I bet we were at least somewhere near the border of Oregon already.

I’ve been to Oregon countless times before. Sure, Kurt Cobain did originate from Seattle, but the BSB had done several concerts there for the past couple of years. Those trips were done with the anticipation of performing to a large crowd of music lovers, knowing that when we had done our thang, we would eventually be back to the comfort of our home. As we rode farther and farther to Seattle, I was not sure if I would ever heard the word ‘home’ again.

“Uh, what’s your name, blondie?” my supposed kidnapper spoke for the first time since she dragged me out of the Intercooler earlier that day. She looked like she could not careless what my name was, although I was very interested to know hers. “Nick. Nick Carter. That’s the first time a breathing young woman asked me the question,” I joked even though I was pretty certain she wouldn’t get it.

Kidnapper girl snorted softly and threw me a meaningful look. “It’s not healthy to get pigheaded over your fame. So I belong to the rare species of Homo sapiens, but that doesn’t make me less normal.”

I nodded my head. That was quite true. I was so used to being known everywhere I set my foot on that it was almost funny to be asked about my name. I looked down at my cuffed hands and tried to predict my future. “So, do you kidnap people for a living?” I asked with pretence casualty. So, how do you start a conversation with your kidnapper? Ask her about her hobby?

“Well, Nick,” she started as the CRV sped down the slippery road. “I do kidnapping as a side job, but mainly I kill people,” she answered, giving me this small smile. I loved her sense of humor already.

I laughed. “Oh yea, I can imagine it already. Get in gear with some slinky dress and you got all the males by your feet,” I replied, at the same time checking out the chick. I had to give her credits for that body. Lots of credits.

She gave me a confused smile. “Normally, I just shoot them.”

I was about to burst out laughing again when I realized that she was dead serious. “You’re not serious, are you?”

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and turned up the heater. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I let out an estranged cough and held my breath. Petrified was not the word. “Are you gonna kill me too?” If I was to die in her hand, I wanted to make sure she would give me the signal when to close my eyes so I wouldn’t watch how pathetically my life would end.

That question hung in the air. Kidnapper girl drove calmly while her eyes were focused on the road. “Depends. I might save you for the future if you don’t give me any shit.” She clicked her tongue and diverted her attention from the road to look at me. “Now, let’s end the Q&A session, shall we? With your current condition, you are unquestionably not in the position to interview me. Clear?”

She did sound serious. With my hands cuffed and my feet lynched, I could not do much than obey her. “One more question, though.”

Kidnapper girl did not answer. I took it as my cue to risk my throat and ask the award-winning question. “The name?”

“Four words. I am not stupid,” she answered curtly. She must be a well-trained professional.

“It’s CJ.”