How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Fifty Six: The Morning After

An alarm scared me awake. I shot up in bed and smacked my head on the one above me. "Ow!" I said, my vision still blurry. Only then did I remember where I was: in a stolen tour bus with Bon and Angus.

"What's goin' on?" Angus asked. Wrapping my blanket around my cold body I slipped out of the bunk bed and dropped to the floor, my feet freezing. Angus had quickly pulled a shirt and jeans on and followed me to the front of the bus where Bon had just vacated the driver's seat. 

"Don't worry guys, I got it," he said, cranking the doors open and hurrying outside. The alarm was even louder now and I looked out the windshield to see what happened. In front of the bus was a station wagon. The headlights were flashing on and off and the alarm was blaring loud enough to wake up the city. Angus groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. 

"It's too early for this, Bon," he muttered and left the bus. Reluctantly I followed him, greeted by the warm Sydney air. Already the sun was high and the sky was a brilliant blue. Bon was halfway through the station wagon's window, fiddling around with the controls. In a moment the blaring alarm stopped. Shimmying out with a smile on his face, he rubbed his hands together. 

"Good as new," he said.

"What else are we gettin' in trouble for?" Angus asked, examining the station wagon for dents and scratches. I couldn't see any, but I did notice one of the tour bus' mirrors was cracked. I could only imagine what kind of adventure Bon took us for while we slept. "Bon, you idiot, this is Randy's car!" Angus stood up straight, eyes wide in horror.

"Is it?" Bon asked calmly, his smile fading. 

"Who's Randy?" I asked. Angus sighed and ran his hands through his hair, circling the car for any more damage. 

"Friend of ours," Bon said. The wind blew his hair in his face and he didn't bother to fix it. "Got a nasty temper, that one."

"Wonderful," I groaned. 

"No, no, he's a great guy," Bon insisted. "He's jus' a bit...." Angus hurried back to our sides as a very large man came storming across the parking lot from a nearby building. I realized Bon had taken us back to the hotel we were staying at. The man was fully dressed in work boots and tattered jeans, a black t shirt stretched to full capacity. He huffed and puffed the whole way over to us, his face red. "I'll talk, you two get behind me."

"Bon," Angus said, trying to sound serious but breaking out into giggles. "Not a word out of you."

All three of us stood side by side as Randy approached his car, looking it over. "What the fuck's happened?" he asked after catching his breath. 

"I was jus' parkin', mate," Bon said, ignoring Angus' request. "Thought I could squeeze by."

"You hit my car with the fucking bus?" Randy asked, his voice rising. I thought his face couldn't get any redder but he proved me wrong. "Do you have eyes, or what?"

"Nothin's been done," Bon said and that hardly calmed Randy down. He began to pace, trying to come up with something real nasty to say but only stuttered and spit. Angus and Bon were trying real hard not to break out laughing at the sight but we were all nervous just the same. Especially me. I had never met this guy. He could pound all three of us into mush. "It's the bus that took the hit."

"You...! You....!" Randy couldn't even form the words to let Bon know what he was. Instead he just opened the car door and forced himself in the tiny vehicle, slamming the door behind him. 

"Lucky the window was open," Bon said. "I turned the alarm off for ya'."

Randy started his car up and started flicking switches. The wipers went on, scraping against dry glass. The radio started blasting Frank Sinatra while the headlights flashed on and off. Turning the car off, Randy opened the door and practically fell out, closing it behind him.