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We're stopping on the highway girl 'Cause I want to burn my gas
The phone buzzing on the wrought iron table beside her, the humming amplified by the metal, distracted Alex from her typing.
Flipping it over, she found the screen illuminated with an unsaved number. This wasn't particularly unusual, given her line of work, but it was the weekend. She heavily considered allowing it to go voicemail—if it were important enough, they'd leave a message, right?
Yet, something, perhaps it was intuition, had her picking up on the last ring.
"Alexandra Becker," she answered formally on the off chance the call was work-related.
The person on the other end chuckled at her introduction. "Alex, hey, it's Josh."
She quickly raked through her mind to determine what Josh would be calling her from an unknown number and came up lacking.
The silence on the other end must have been telling because the voice chuckled again, "Kiszka."
Well, that saved her the humiliation of having to ask, 'what Josh?' However, that still didn't answer the question of why he was calling her at all. And, how the hell had he even gotten her number?
"Oh. What's up, Josh?" She tried to save, though the apparent confusion still laced her voice.
Josh didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he let it pass without acknowledgment. "Where are you right now?"
Alex observed her surroundings, almost expecting him to pop out of the shrubbery and continue to surprise her. He didn't, so she hesitantly replied, "physically or emotionally?"
Again, his whimsical laughter rang through the line. "I mean, what city?"
Alex's eyes sharpened with suspicion, but he wasn't there to witness it. This conversation was heading down a weird path, and she had a feeling it would continue to do so until Josh Kiszka decided to bestow upon her the knowledge of its destination. "I'm in Burbank," she finally answered honestly.
The clapping of hands could be heard on the other end, and it made Alex wonder if she were on speakerphone. Great, that meant the other hooligans were more than likely listening in on this stilted conversation. "Perfect! We're staying in Laurel Canyon. Come down for the weekend."
Again, Josh had this way of stating things in a manner that was more than a question and less of a demand. But, more importantly, why was he intent upon spending the weekend with someone he'd only met once?
Alex knew why, but she wished she didn't.
Better to nip this in the bud sooner rather than later.
"You really wanna spend the weekend with some chick you barely know?" She asked skeptically, hoping he'd realize it was a bad idea and rescind the invitation, if one could even call it such.
"Oh, absolutely," Josh reassured. So much for her plan of dissuading. "Plus, you owe us for bailing after the concert."
Alex blanched. She was hoping that would have gone unnoticed or, at the very least, unstated. But no, now he was basically using her broken promise as social blackmail.
Alex sighed audibly. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, given how nice he'd been thus far, but it seemed like a terrible idea—trapped in a house with Greta Van Fleet for a long weekend. Very terrible indeed.
He must have sensed her uncertainty on the other end because Josh offered, "unless you're busy?"
She wasn't busy, that was the problem. And Alex felt like if she were to lie and say she was, he would just know. Mystical little shit he was.
"No, I'm not busy," she admitted begrudgingly. "Send me the address." If she was going to jump into these freezing waters, it was best to do it all at once and let the cold consume her.
"Spectacular! We'll see you soon," he shouted gleefully as rustling was heard from the other line.
Before she let the conversation end, though, Alex had one more question. "Wait, Josh. How did you even get my number?"
He laughed one more time, "it's a mystery." And then he hung up.
Before she knew it, Alex was standing in front of the wooden door to a cabin in the hills. Could it truly be called a cabin when it was this big? She tried to focus on that thought and not the one telling her she was walking into a horror movie.
City girl shows up to a cabin in the woods where four musicians she's only met once, not including the disastrous first meeting with Jake, are waiting. That'd be the 60 Minutes tagline covering the story of her disappearance.
So stupid, she chastised herself but knocked heavily on the door anyway.
"That's her!" She heard someone shout from inside, followed by the sound of heavy steps approaching.
The door swung open aggressively to reveal Josh with a wide grin on his face. Music wafted out behind him, something that sounded suspiciously like Stephen Stills. "Welcome, my lady."
He's definitely a strange bird, Alex mused but stepped through the doorway as the frontman enthusiastically ushered her in. "Uh, hey," was all she had to awkwardly offer in return.
The two met up with Sam in the hallway, barefoot as always. "Welcome, welcome," he greeted cheerily, taking the bag from her hand and setting it down on the stairs, obviously the more gentlemanly of the siblings.
"We're making cocktails. Can I interest you in one?" Josh asked, herding her towards the kitchen where other voices could be heard above the music.
Alcohol could only help curtail the social anxiety Alex was reveling in at the moment. "Oh hell yes," she replied, allowing herself to be willfully chaperoned through the house by the brothers.
They turned a corner to enter the brightly lit kitchen, which Danny and Jake already occupied. She received a bright smile from the former but nothing more than a tight-lipped nod from the latter. Clearly, it wasn't Jake's idea to invite her along for the weekend.
Fuck 'em, Alex thought, she'd try and have fun just to spite him. "Josh said something about cocktails?"
"Coming right up!" Danny announced, drumming his hands on the counter before turning back to the fridge to pull out supplies.
She watched with interest as he measured out the ingredients into a pitcher. A hefty pour of tequila. A large splash of triple sec. Josh jumped in and added a dash of beer, or cerveza, as he insisted upon calling it. The squeeze of several limes.
Danny poured the concoction into a salt-rimmed glass and handed it to her with pride. "Arent you underage?" She teased but downed the drink in one go regardless, receiving a whoop from Sam. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Alex returned the now empty glass to Danny, and he refilled it hurriedly.
"Please don't tell our moms," Sam begged in jest, pouring himself a margarita.
Alex laughed and sipped on the second drink more reservedly. "I make no promises," she said while allowing her eyes to inspect the room as the others helped themselves. Their chattering, often bickering, back and forth carried a soothing melody that eased her previous apprehension.
They were just ridiculous boys, albeit increasingly famous boys, but boys nonetheless.
"Let's head out back," Jake finally offered, snapping Alex out of her reverie. Unlike everyone else, who were partaking heavily in Danny's margaritas, he'd opted for beer. Always intent on being contrary, she noted with an eye roll.
Picking up the pitcher with his unoccupied hand, Josh bounced with excitement. "Let's build a fire!"
Oh god, Alex thought, it's gonna be a long weekend.
