What do you do when a teenage movie star makes it seem as if you've kidnapped him? After working two summers at his father's health club as a towel boy, Peter Fisk saved enough money to visit California. He literally runs into Lance Hardwood in his...
There was one electric auto charging station in Amargosa Valley, and of course, it was closed for repairs. I'd asked James if this was a serious problem. I wasn't quite ready for his reply.
"Peter, I have a confession to make."
Lance groaned. His split lip had finally stopped bleeding. It would be some time before he was camera-ready. "We're not stuck here, are we?"
"James, you're an AI, and AIs don't talk like that."
"This I can say, because it was my decision not to, at first. But the mental stress the idea of running out of power has generated isn't good for your health. Or that of your...our friends. I choose to tell you all that I am not run by electricity, and that I will not run out of power. Unless I am damaged, in which case I recommend you get out and run away as fast as you humanly can."
"Jimmy, why should we do that – run away?" asked Scarlet.
"Because, Miss Fever, I will likely explode."
"That makes me feel SO much b-b-better," I stammered. "What powers you, James?"
The AI paused. "My creator says I am not at liberty to say. I am to remind you that I am an experimental AI that is part of an experimental vehicle."
"James, is there a reason you sound like Luke Stoneridge?" Derek asked quietly.
"I have never met anyone of that name. Would you like me to search all..."
"No, James. I pretty much know all there is to know about him. At least I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure."
"I'm sorry if my voice upsets you, Derek. Shall I change it?"
"Nah, Jimmy. Luke is dead and gone. Hearing his voice, well, it just brings back fond memories. Is there a good place to eat in this one-horse town? Death Valley's not far from here, is it?"
"There is an historic Hotel and Opera House that has a nice café, according to Trip Advisor."
Twenty minutes later we were seated in an air-conditioned café with old Western charm. As we waited for our food, I asked Derek to keep his word and tell us about his sister. And after a few minutes, I'd questioned my wisdom in doing so, because as it turned out, she was one scary young woman.
"Where do I start with Trina?" he began. "She was reading bedtime stories to herself by the time she was 4 years old. She was frail at birth, but when she grew a little older, she watched and followed the daytime exercise shows with mom, mastering routines that our mother couldn't. She excelled at school academics. Hell, at 12 she was better than I ever was at science and math. She had one weakness, though."
"Let me guess. Pokemon?" offered Lance.
Derek frowned. "You, you idiot. From your first appearance as Biff Barkley, through those sappy 'Middle School Musicals' and especially as Dino Dude in Prehistoric Prepubescent Squad, she was your Numero Uno Stan. She created the Lan Fans, your first fan club. But the depth of her devotion to you scared away lots of the normal ones, who formed their own groups. She finally created the Extreme Lancers, whose motto is "Do him or die!"
"One year, she painted an enormous portrait of your face on her room's ceiling. Your face was the first thing she saw waking up, and the last thing before she went to sleep."
"That poor, delusional girl is in need of some serious help. I mean, Lance is hot and all, but he sure ain't all that!" offered Scarlett.
"Hey!" piped both Lance and I, together. He looked at me, stunned, and gave me a wonderful smile.
"I'm sitting right here," he said defensively.
"I know, darlin', but face it: if you worked on your acting, you'd be double trouble; come to CalArts and learn some skills, you'd be a triple threat. As it is, you're coasting on your looks and past successes. Young Tesla has dropped in the ratings these past 6 months. The spark is gone from you. If you got off your high horse and played Disney's game, you'd be in the number one slot."
"Enough!" he cried. "Derek, what the hell does she want from me?"
Black Thunder stretched his formidable forearms and placed a hand on both of Lance's knees. "She's a writer, dude. Of Young Tesla Fanfiction. She publishes it mostly on Wattpad. Someone asked her if she wrote any episodes for the series. She followed that advice. She sent you dozens of scripts. They were good, Lance. Really, really good. I'm not sayin' that just because she's my sister. They're much better than the crap your own writers have been churning out."
"I never got any scripts. I get fan mail. Not as much as I used to, but..."
"Makes you wonder what Disney isn't handing over to you. You do know that interfering with the US Mail is a crime? Anyway, she got tired of not getting any answers. Tired, and then angry. She enlisted the help of Jamie and Zoe to kidnap you and make an episode all by herself."
"I'll cooperate, as long as..." but Derek stopped him cold.
"Dude, it's way past that. There's no negotiating. She will get what she wants, doing whatever it takes. Your consent isn't needed."
"James," how long until we get to Yosemite?" I asked.
"Eight to nine hours."
"Let's find a hotel here to stay at until morning."
Our waitress, who was handing me our change, spoke up. "Well, we have rooms available! And our breakfasts can't be beat!"
"This is on me, all right?" Derek insisted, so we shared some ginger chocolate cookies while he made the arrangements. A young Latina girl and her father stopped in front of Lance, startling him. Worry spread across his face, until her father spoke.
"My daughter, she says you are Nikola Tesla on Disney. She asks for your autograph, young sir. Could you...would you, please?"
The girl was blushing furiously. Lance took hold of her hand, eliciting an intake of breath and then a giggle. "Do you like my watch?" he asked, showing her the moving hands of Mickey and Donald. She nodded, her eyes growing large. "It's really too small for me. Take this, as a gift. To remind you that, like Nikola, you can do anything if you set your mind to it."
"Now, would you like a selfie with me? This is just for us, okay?" he said, in a low, conspiratorial voice. She nodded vigorously. Lance handed me her camera, and it was the loveliest picture – sweet, un-staged, and irresistible. A real gift, that was. One that I wanted, but in the end, I'm glad it was hers and hers alone.
When they left, Miss Fever gave Lance one of her body builder bone-crushing hugs. "Well, we don't need to stop at FedEx anymore. I was gonna mail it to Disney HQ, but I think that girl will give it a much better home," Lance said, a bit embarrassed and a bit flustered. We left our waitress a generous tip – well, as generous as we could afford to be, considering Lance lost over $1,000 during our Vegas stay. I told James to make arrangements for lodging at Yosemite, which he informed me he'd already made, and for more cash to be picked up along our route.
We parked in front of Scarlett's room, and Derek handed her the key. After we'd wished her a good night, he took us to a door two rooms down the walkway. "Here we are boys," and opened the door, where he entered and sat down on the king-sized bed. He pulled a bottle of Rough Rider Bull Moose Rye Whiskey out of a satchel, along with three shot glasses. He poured all three, lifted one and said, "To a Boys' Night In."
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