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I assumed that was what he was referring to.
“NO,” I said forcefully.
He grinned. “I never get to have no fun…”
“You’ve had plenty of fun, mister. And you didn’t answer the question.”
“Oh, is this Journalism Time?” he asked mockingly.
“Yeah,” I taunted him right back, “this is Journalism Time.”
He looked around at the various restaurant patrons obviously whispering about us and trying to surreptitiously take pictures.
“Enh,” he shrugged. “You get used to it. Besides, I love getting up on stage – this is just kind of an extension of that.”
“Speaking of getting up on stage, Miles is going to kill us,” I said worriedly.
“He’s going to kill you. I’m his meal ticket,” Derek joked.
“This isn’t funny – we have to call them – ”
“Alright, alright. After breakfast, okay? Let me have that much time alone with you, at least.”
Awwwww…
I melted a little bit, and didn’t mention Miles again until after we left the restaurant.
47
I brought the band’s manager back up as we walked out of the diner and down the street. We were passing by a car dealership, and it was hard to keep Derek’s attention with all the pretty, shiny things on display.
“Derek, we have to call Miles,” I pleaded.
“I can’t,” he said as he walked over to a beautiful, gleaming sports car.
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I don’t know his phone number.”
“What?!”
“I don’t have everybody’s phone number memorized.”
“He’s your manager! If you’re not going to carry a cell phone, shouldn’t you at least know his number?!”
Derek shrugged again. “He always finds me. I never want to find him.”
I was really starting to get worried now. “Derek, we have to let them know where we are – ”
“We should get a car,” he announced, apropos of nothing.
“…what?”
“We have to get to San Diego for the show, right?”
“Yeah, but – ”
“So let’s get a car.”
He immediately started heading for the sales office.
“Wait – we can just rent a car!” I said, running after him. “I can rent a car! Wait – no I can’t – ”
Damn credit card was back on the bus.
“We’re already here,” he said as he opened up the front door. Like it would be an annoyance to go anywhere else at this point.
“What the hell, Derek?” I whispered as I followed him inside the glass-and-steel showcase building. “We can’t just buy a car!”
Derek looked at me like I’d said the most ridiculous thing ever. “Sure we can.”
I was just about to launch into all the reasons this was a terrible idea when a twenty-something salesman in an expensive three-piece suit walked up. “Hi – I, uh – sorry to bother you, but, uh – are you Derek Kane?”
Of course it was going to happen like this. Of course it was.
“Yes I am,” Derek said happily.
“Oh, man – oh my gosh!” the guy laughed, and put his hands on his head as though somebody had just informed him he’d won the lottery. “Whoa, this is crazy – I was at your show last night, man!”
“Cool. Hope you had a good time.”
“Had a good time?! You guys rocked – you were freakin’ awesome! Holy shit, Derek Kane, here!”
I don’t like talking about it, because I don’t want to sound conceited – but I’m pretty attractive. I get a lot of male attention. Lots of stares, lots of double-takes. Most of the time it’s not welcome, but it comes with the territory.
With Derek by my side, I might as well have not even been standing there.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly at my best without makeup – but come on.
The guy just kept going on and on about Derek and Bigger and how awesome the show had been and how he had both their records and a couple of bootlegs and –
And then the guy paused, as though it had just now dawned on him why Derek Kane might be in this particular car dealership. “Hey, uh – I just realized… can I help you with anything?”
“Yes you can.”
And then Derek proceeded to buy a car.
Well… not so much ‘buy’ as ‘acquire.’
48
It happened pretty quickly.
First Derek said to me, “I liked those kids’ convertible last night. You want to get a convertible?”
“No,” I said loudly.
Derek ignored me. “I want a convertible. Show me the best convertible you’ve got on the lot,” he said.
The salesman – who, after he got over the worst of being star-struck, introduced himself as Tad – showed it to us.
It was absolutely gorgeous.
I about choked on the price tag, though: $78,000.
But Derek saw something else a few rows away, and walked over to check it out.
It was a beautiful little retro convertible with rounded lines and powder blue paint. Perfect condition.
“Oh yeah – sorry, I forgot about that one. 1969 Mercedes convertible,” the guy said. “We just got it yesterday – guy got divorced, had to sell it and get a cheaper car to pay off his lawyer. My heart broke for him when he gave me the keys, man.”
“I’ll take it,” Derek said.
“Don’t you want to know how much it is?” I asked, my mouth agape. There wasn’t even a ‘For Sale’ sign in the window yet.
“How much is it?” Derek asked.
“I think we’re listing it for $95,000,” the salesman said.
“I’ll take it.”
And just like that, we wound up in Tad’s office.
What followed was a comedy routine.
But as it turned out, the joke was on me.
“So, how did you want to pay for this?” Tad asked. “I could let you talk to our finance guy if you want.”
“Well, see, the thing is, I’ve got to be in San Diego for a show tonight, so I need to get out of here, like, an hour ago.”
The guy nodded sympathetically. “Uh huh, uh huh.”
“And it turns out I don’t have my bank card or anything on me right now.”
“Well, we could fill out the paperwork and run a credit check – which I’m sure would be excellent – ”
“Probably not. I don’t have any credit cards.”
I stared at Derek in disbelief.
He felt me staring at him and stared right back. “What? I told you, other people take care of all that.”
It was true: the rich really were different.
Especially the rock star rich.
“Could you just fill out all the paperwork and bill me later?” Derek asked.
“Ohhh,” Tad winced. He grit his teeth and made a sympathetic noise of sucking air into his mouth. “Oh, man, if it were up to me, I would totally front you the car, dude. But… I can’t. I’m so sorry, bro, but, see, the manager, he’s a real hardass – I need to run a credit check and file the paperwork and – ”
“I’m good for it, man, I just need to hit the road,” Derek explained impatiently.
Tad put his hands up like he was afraid he might have offended his hero. “Oh, hey, I wasn’t suggesting anything – I mean, you’re Derek Kane – of course you’re good for it! But, see, my manager – ”
Derek gave me a raised eyebrow. “See why I don’t like managers?”
“Because they reign in irresponsible behavior?” I asked sarcastically.
“Exactly,” Derek grinned, then turned back to the salesman. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“Sure!” Tad bubbled, and turned around the multi-line phone system on his desk so Derek could reach it.
“I thought you didn’t have Miles’s number,” I said as Derek punched out a number.
“I don’t,” he said, then put the call on speaker as it started to ring.
It took a few seconds, but finally a voice answered.
“Hello?”
Ryan.
I leaned my head against my hand. I felt a headache coming on.
“Hey, Ryan!” Derek called out.
Tad the salesman just about lost his mind. He bounced up and down in his chair like a five year-old on a sugar high and kept mouthing, Is that Ryan Miller?! Oh my god, you’re shitting me! Is that Ryan Miller?!
“Dude – what the hell happened to you?” Ryan asked.
“Life.”
“Is Kaitlyn with you? Because we can’t find – ”
“Hi Ryan,” I said meekly. “I’m okay.”
There was an awkward pause. Then –
“Uhhh… hi, Kaitlyn.”
I’m sure I was blushing scarlet. I was just thankful Ryan wasn’t there to see it.
“Miles is about to crap a brick,” Ryan continued.
“Tell him I’ll be there for the show tonight,” Derek said.
“I’m not sure that’ll be good enough. I’m pretty sure he wants a human sacrifice.”
“Remind him he works for us, not vice versa.”
“Derek – ”
“I said I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that another time, too. This isn’t going to be a replay of the Cleveland incident, is it?”
I frowned and looked at Derek. “What’s the Cleveland – ”
