road5

They spent the next hour just talking about everything and nothing. Jillian admitted that she hadn't ever listened to their music, but she was interested to hear about it, and life on the road.

"So anyway," he was telling her, "by the time we got back to the hotel, Isaac's eye had gone totally purple where the girl had whopped him with her camera. He couldn't see out of it for three days."

"That's horrible," Jillian said, gnawing on her thumbnail out of habit. "You guys have to put up with that kind of thing a lot?" She yanked her thumb away from her mouth and sat on her hand. I gotta quit doing that, she thought with annoyance.

Zac watched with an amused look on his face, and then slowly shook his head. "Not lately. At the beginning it was kind of scary. I was only twelve and girls were trying to rip my hair out. That was not fun. But let's talk about something else. You, for instance."

She's actually shy, Zac thought. I think she's a little like me, covering up how she really feels by acting bolder. "Everyone is interesting. The most interesting people I've met are the ones who think they're boring."

She got a faraway look in her eyes. "I really want to be a designer someday. I'm trying to work out an internship in New York for the end of next year, with one of the big fashion magazines. I thought that would get me some practical experience. Mid-Missouri isn't exactly the fashion capital of the country, you know. And the graphic arts minor is just for fun. I like to draw."

Jillian stuck out her hand. "Here, give me a napkin." He handed her the one he was using. "No, not that one, you dork, a clean one. Geez." Zac laughed and gave her one out of the bag. "This is going to be really rough, I'm warning you right now..." She fished a ball point pen out of her coat pocket, put the napkin down on the top of the washing machine, and started to draw. Zac leaned over to watch, fascinated. Drawing on napkins was not easy; he'd done it himself many times. Toilet paper, too, but that was another story.

Jillian curled her left arm protectively around the sketch. "No peeking!" She rapped him on the head with the pen, then smiled sheepishly. "You're making me nervous. I don't want to mess it up."

He drew back, rubbing his head. "Sorry." He leaned back against the very uncomfortable washing machine and munched on another wing. God, these are good. I'm going to have to come back here every tour just to get these. He rubbed an itch on the end of his nose and grabbed another wing out of the container with his other hand.

Zac watched Jillian as she drew. Her long brown hair, which she kept pulled back behind her ears, kept dribbling down onto her cheeks, and she'd absently push it back. She's got the same hair I do, he thought. She kept biting her lower lip - a nervous habit, Zac supposed, like gnawing on her fingernails. He'd noticed her doing that a few times. He couldn't criticize her for that - he did it too.

Every once in a while she'd close her eyes, as if trying to remember something, then they'd pop open and she'd draw furiously. Zac noticed for the first time that they were brown - but much lighter than his own. They reminded him of the color of deer. She had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose, and one big one near the corner of her right eye. She wasn't wearing any make-up that he could see, and Zac decided that she was pretty - not supermodel pretty like her roommate, but a kind of everyday prettiness. She was one of those people whose personality was written all over her face, and that was what really made her beautiful. I could look at her for hours, he thought with a smile, and never get tired of looking.

After a couple of minutes she put the pen down on the machine with a bang. Zac jumped. "There. Remember, I don't have the best materials to work with here," she said quietly, handing him the napkin.

"Wow," he breathed. "You are really good. Wow." She had drawn a picture of him from earlier this afternoon - sitting in that big chair, legs hanging over the side, hair all over the place, smiling and gesturing with his hands as he talked. It was as lifelike as you can get on a napkin - as if she had been filming him, and just cut out one frame and stuck it on the napkin. The expression on his face as she had drawn it amazed him. He actually looked happy. Not that fake happy he put on for photographers. She had drawn what he was like on the inside instead of just what she could see.

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a snicker. "It's actually quite attractive. I'm sure all your fans would love to see a picture of you with hot sauce on your schnozz." She was laughing so hard now that her gut hurt. "Maybe I should draw that, too." She took deep breath, trying to stop laughing.

Zac calmly reached into the empty container, got a finger-load of sauce and slowly made a big smear on each side of Jillian's face. Her eyes grew wide with surprise.

After their food fight, Zac remembered his clothes. He pulled them out of the dryer while Jillian started to clean up the mess with some wet paper towels from the bathroom. Zac was whistling some song she didn't recognize as he headed off to the restroom to change.

It's amazing, Jillian thought, how much fun I am having today. I go to parties and stuff and never have this much fun. Too bad Zac couldn't hang around longer. We could have a really great time. She stopped what she was doing and let the paper towel fall to the floor. What are you thinking, you ninny? He's a rock star. He's on a national tour. This is a little hokey college town on a road that doesn't go anywhere. A rest stop between Kansas City and St. Louis. You think he would hang around here when he can be in LA or New York or Australia or Europe, or anywhere else for that matter? She looked out the window at the darkening sky. Her face darkened, too. He's gonna have to leave sooner or later, you know. She sighed and picked up the towel. Just chalk it up as another interesting college experience, I guess.

As Zac came out of the bathroom his pager went off. He'd forgotten he was wearing it. Suddenly he felt really annoyed with his brothers. Don't they care I've been gone for almost 5 hours in a strange town in the winter? He looked over at Jillian, and was surprised to see her staring out the front windows, a sullen look on her face. Wonder what that's about, he thought.
She was happy before... maybe she's just sad to see me go. Oh, right. Man, you gotta find a pin to pop your swelled head.

He slowly walked over to the pay phone, and called the number on the pager. Jillian had heard the pager go off, and her eyes followed him across the room. She watched his face as he talked to whoever had paged him. A brother, she assumed. At one point, Zac's face turned a really dark red color, almost purple, and she could tell that whoever was on the other end of the phone had said something that really pissed him off. After a couple of minutes, Zac hung up the phone very softly, almost too gently. He must be really mad, Jillian thought with a shudder. I'd hate to be whoever he was talking to when he gets back to the hotel.

Zac walked back over to where Jillian was sitting, cross-legged, on top of the washing machine. His face was cloudy. "Our car's ready," he said. "I gotta get back to the hotel."

"Let me drive you," she said quietly, standing up and pulling on her coat. Not looking forward to another long walk, especially now that it was both cold and dark, and partially wanting to postpone the inevitable good-byes, he took her up on it.

Jillian stared at her gloved hands, which were folded in her lap. "I really need to get back and do my homework," she said slowly. "And I dumped my laundry all over the bed. It's going to be really wrinkled."

They sat there in silence for a minute, neither really knowing what to say now. They knew that they were never going to see each other again, and neither one was all that happy about it.

"You know," Zac said, fiddling with a button on his coat, "of all the times I've needed to go to the laundromat to get away from stuff, this is the first time I've actually talked to somebody. Usually I just read magazines or watch TV or take a nap until I feel better." That was true; he hoped she didn't think he was just saying that to be nice.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Jillian quickly leaned over and barely kissed Zac on the cheek. Embarrassed and slightly shocked by her second irrational act of boldness, she quickly turned her head towards the window.

Zac reddened. Should I kiss her back or just leave it like this? He decided just to leave it. Seemed better that way. He got out of the car. "See ya around," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and putting on his best fake-happy grin.

Jillian gave him a sad little wave, and pulled out of the parking lot. He stood there, watching her taillights disappear into traffic on Highway 13. A genuine little smile touched his lips then. Wasn't so unlucky after all, he thought. He slowly walked into the hotel.

"I don't know what's in this," the girl behind the desk said, dropping the package onto the counter with a thump, "but it sure is the heaviest package I've seen come through here."

Jillian was curious. She looked at the return address. All it said was Z.H., and it had an Indiana postmark. She smiled happily. Picking it up off the counter, she thought, This package is really heavy; what on earth did he send me? She shook it and it made thudding noises. "Beats me!" she shrugged.

Dropping it down on a couch in the lobby, Jillian opened the outer wrapping paper. A note was scribbled on top of the box. "Stay out of that laundry room," it read. "Your friend, Zac." She opened the box and burst out laughing.



	Chapter Five

They spent the next hour just talking about everything and nothing. Jillian admitted that she hadn't ever listened to their music, but she was interested to hear about it, and life on the road. "So anyway," he was telling her, "by the time we got back to the hotel, Isaac's eye had gone totally purple where the girl had whopped him with her camera. He couldn't see out of it for three days." "That's horrible," Jillian said, gnawing on her thumbnail out of habit. "You guys have to put up with that kind of thing a lot?" She yanked her thumb away from her mouth and sat on her hand. I gotta quit doing that, she thought with annoyance. Zac watched with an amused look on his face, and then slowly shook his head. "Not lately. At the beginning it was kind of scary. I was only twelve and girls were trying to rip my hair out. That was not fun. But let's talk about something else. You, for instance." Jillian blushed slightly. "Oh, I'm not very interesting." She's actually shy, Zac thought. I think she's a little like me, covering up how she really feels by acting bolder. "Everyone is interesting. The most interesting people I've met are the ones who think they're boring." She smiled at that. "What do you want to know?" "Your last name would be nice." A look of surprise crossed her face. "You mean I didn't tell you before? Are you sure? I thought I did. Sorry. It's Bailey." "Jillian Bailey. That's got a nice rhythm to it," Zac commented. "Now, I know I've got your older brother to thank for my outfit - any other brothers or sisters?" "One brother, one sister, both younger than me. Incidently, I think my sister loves your brother. He's a bit old for her, though." She snickered. Zac made a face and sighed dramatically. "Which one?" "Um...the guitarist?" Hmm, that's a switch. "Isaac. Good for her, usually they go for Taylor. What's your major?" "Are we playing twenty questions here?" "If I can think of that many, yes. Major?" "Fashion merchandising, with a minor in graphic arts." "You can major in fashion in college? Really?" Jillian laughed. "That's two questions you just wasted." "Shoot." Zac snapped his fingers and tried to look mad. "Ok, then, what do you want to do after you graduate?" She got a faraway look in her eyes. "I really want to be a designer someday. I'm trying to work out an internship in New York for the end of next year, with one of the big fashion magazines. I thought that would get me some practical experience. Mid-Missouri isn't exactly the fashion capital of the country, you know. And the graphic arts minor is just for fun. I like to draw." "Any good at it?" "Well, aren't you insulting!" "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I draw, just cartoons and stuff. I always wished I could draw more realistic stuff, like people." Jillian stuck out her hand. "Here, give me a napkin." He handed her the one he was using. "No, not that one, you dork, a clean one. Geez." Zac laughed and gave her one out of the bag. "This is going to be really rough, I'm warning you right now..." She fished a ball point pen out of her coat pocket, put the napkin down on the top of the washing machine, and started to draw. Zac leaned over to watch, fascinated. Drawing on napkins was not easy; he'd done it himself many times. Toilet paper, too, but that was another story. Jillian curled her left arm protectively around the sketch. "No peeking!" She rapped him on the head with the pen, then smiled sheepishly. "You're making me nervous. I don't want to mess it up." He drew back, rubbing his head. "Sorry." He leaned back against the very uncomfortable washing machine and munched on another wing. God, these are good. I'm going to have to come back here every tour just to get these. He rubbed an itch on the end of his nose and grabbed another wing out of the container with his other hand. Zac watched Jillian as she drew. Her long brown hair, which she kept pulled back behind her ears, kept dribbling down onto her cheeks, and she'd absently push it back. She's got the same hair I do, he thought. She kept biting her lower lip - a nervous habit, Zac supposed, like gnawing on her fingernails. He'd noticed her doing that a few times. He couldn't criticize her for that - he did it too. Every once in a while she'd close her eyes, as if trying to remember something, then they'd pop open and she'd draw furiously. Zac noticed for the first time that they were brown - but much lighter than his own. They reminded him of the color of deer. She had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose, and one big one near the corner of her right eye. She wasn't wearing any make-up that he could see, and Zac decided that she was pretty - not supermodel pretty like her roommate, but a kind of everyday prettiness. She was one of those people whose personality was written all over her face, and that was what really made her beautiful. I could look at her for hours, he thought with a smile, and never get tired of looking. After a couple of minutes she put the pen down on the machine with a bang. Zac jumped. "There. Remember, I don't have the best materials to work with here," she said quietly, handing him the napkin. "Wow," he breathed. "You are really good. Wow." She had drawn a picture of him from earlier this afternoon - sitting in that big chair, legs hanging over the side, hair all over the place, smiling and gesturing with his hands as he talked. It was as lifelike as you can get on a napkin - as if she had been filming him, and just cut out one frame and stuck it on the napkin. The expression on his face as she had drawn it amazed him. He actually looked happy. Not that fake happy he put on for photographers. She had drawn what he was like on the inside instead of just what she could see. He then noticed that Jillian was giggling into her hand. "Now, what's so funny?" She burst out laughing. "You have a huge gob of sauce on the end of your nose." Embarrassed, he grabbed a napkin out of the carryout bag and scrubbed his nose with it fiercely. "And how long were you going to sit there laughing at me?" "Oh, I don't know," she said with a snicker. "It's actually quite attractive. I'm sure all your fans would love to see a picture of you with hot sauce on your schnozz." She was laughing so hard now that her gut hurt. "Maybe I should draw that, too." She took deep breath, trying to stop laughing. Zac calmly reached into the empty container, got a finger-load of sauce and slowly made a big smear on each side of Jillian's face. Her eyes grew wide with surprise. Zac leaned back and admired his handiwork. "There. Hey, that kind of looks like that weird runway-model makeup. You could start a big trend, Miss Fashion Major." She looked at him. He looked back at her. Their eyes narrowed and they both dived for the sauce. After their food fight, Zac remembered his clothes. He pulled them out of the dryer while Jillian started to clean up the mess with some wet paper towels from the bathroom. Zac was whistling some song she didn't recognize as he headed off to the restroom to change. It's amazing, Jillian thought, how much fun I am having today. I go to parties and stuff and never have this much fun. Too bad Zac couldn't hang around longer. We could have a really great time. She stopped what she was doing and let the paper towel fall to the floor. What are you thinking, you ninny? He's a rock star. He's on a national tour. This is a little hokey college town on a road that doesn't go anywhere. A rest stop between Kansas City and St. Louis. You think he would hang around here when he can be in LA or New York or Australia or Europe, or anywhere else for that matter? She looked out the window at the darkening sky. Her face darkened, too. He's gonna have to leave sooner or later, you know. She sighed and picked up the towel. Just chalk it up as another interesting college experience, I guess. As Zac came out of the bathroom his pager went off. He'd forgotten he was wearing it. Suddenly he felt really annoyed with his brothers. Don't they care I've been gone for almost 5 hours in a strange town in the winter? He looked over at Jillian, and was surprised to see her staring out the front windows, a sullen look on her face. Wonder what that's about, he thought. She was happy before... maybe she's just sad to see me go. Oh, right. Man, you gotta find a pin to pop your swelled head. He slowly walked over to the pay phone, and called the number on the pager. Jillian had heard the pager go off, and her eyes followed him across the room. She watched his face as he talked to whoever had paged him. A brother, she assumed. At one point, Zac's face turned a really dark red color, almost purple, and she could tell that whoever was on the other end of the phone had said something that really pissed him off. After a couple of minutes, Zac hung up the phone very softly, almost too gently. He must be really mad, Jillian thought with a shudder. I'd hate to be whoever he was talking to when he gets back to the hotel. Zac walked back over to where Jillian was sitting, cross-legged, on top of the washing machine. His face was cloudy. "Our car's ready," he said. "I gotta get back to the hotel." "Let me drive you," she said quietly, standing up and pulling on her coat. Not looking forward to another long walk, especially now that it was both cold and dark, and partially wanting to postpone the inevitable good-byes, he took her up on it. In a few minutes they had pulled up to the doors of the Holiday Inn. "Wanna come up and meet my brothers?" Zac asked. He had a feeling she'd say no. Jillian stared at her gloved hands, which were folded in her lap. "I really need to get back and do my homework," she said slowly. "And I dumped my laundry all over the bed. It's going to be really wrinkled." "I understand," Zac replied. Why did we have to meet now? If we'd only been in some other place, at some better time, I think things could have been different. They sat there in silence for a minute, neither really knowing what to say now. They knew that they were never going to see each other again, and neither one was all that happy about it. "You know," Zac said, fiddling with a button on his coat, "of all the times I've needed to go to the laundromat to get away from stuff, this is the first time I've actually talked to somebody. Usually I just read magazines or watch TV or take a nap until I feel better." That was true; he hoped she didn't think he was just saying that to be nice. Jillian's face lit up with a smile. "I'm glad you needed to get out today, Zac." "Me too." They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Jillian quickly leaned over and barely kissed Zac on the cheek. Embarrassed and slightly shocked by her second irrational act of boldness, she quickly turned her head towards the window. Zac reddened. Should I kiss her back or just leave it like this? He decided just to leave it. Seemed better that way. He got out of the car. "See ya around," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and putting on his best fake-happy grin. Jillian gave him a sad little wave, and pulled out of the parking lot. He stood there, watching her taillights disappear into traffic on Highway 13. A genuine little smile touched his lips then. Wasn't so unlucky after all, he thought. He slowly walked into the hotel. Three days later, Jillian found a package slip in her tiny mailbox at the dorm. She went around to the reception desk to get it. "I don't know what's in this," the girl behind the desk said, dropping the package onto the counter with a thump, "but it sure is the heaviest package I've seen come through here." Jillian was curious. She looked at the return address. All it said was Z.H., and it had an Indiana postmark. She smiled happily. Picking it up off the counter, she thought, This package is really heavy; what on earth did he send me? She shook it and it made thudding noises. "Beats me!" she shrugged. Dropping it down on a couch in the lobby, Jillian opened the outer wrapping paper. A note was scribbled on top of the box. "Stay out of that laundry room," it read. "Your friend, Zac." She opened the box and burst out laughing. Inside were twenty rolls of quarters.

		Epilogue Fiction Adrift