As Jake had pointed out, however, Time was not expected to win a Grammy. But since it had been nominated so at least one member of the band was expected to be at the ceremony tomorrow. Since Jake was the most visible member of the band, the voice of the band and the member who ended up in the spotlight the most, he had drawn the duty. He was flying out of the Tallahassee Airport on a commercial flight early the next morning in order to attend, be seen by the cameras, be interviewed once or twice, and then returned on another commercial flight to Fort Lauderdale the next day.
The twelve groupies came into the dressing room and soon the pre-party was in progress. Jake tried to stay off in the corner where he could drink beer in peace but this was not really a realistic goal. The groupies kept circulating over in his direction to talk to him, to tell him how bitchin' they thought he was, and to offer him various sex acts. Eventually he let one of them give him a blowjob just to keep the others occupied.
Soon they boarded up on the band bus with the groupies accompanying them (Jack had gone out to the parking lot and dug up six more, which irritated him since none of these six were required to pay the admission price). They drove to the Sheraton Hotel downtown and spilled out, taking three trips on the elevator to get everyone up to the top floor where each band member had their own suite.
The party tonight was in Nerdly's suite, which just happened to be directly next to Jake's suite. Jake went and laid down in his bed but the constant thumping of music, shouts from Matt and Nerdly, and excited screams of young groupies prevented him from drifting off right away.
"I oughtta call the fuckin' cops on them," Jake said sourly just after one o'clock in the morning. Finally he buried his head under two pillows and was able to drown the decibels down enough to drift off.
It seemed like only moments later that his five-thirty wake up call was jerking him from that slumber.
National Records did not think it necessary to pay for a private flight to return Jake to Los Angeles, nor did Jake wish to waste twelve thousand dollars chartering one himself. He was booked first class on a 727 that left Tallahassee Airport at seven o'clock in the morning. The problem was, there were no direct flights from Tallahassee to Los Angeles so he was flown to Dallas/Fort Worth first and had to wait for an hour for his connecting flight.
He was in the bar and smoking a cigarette in the first class lounge at DFW. He had slept most of the first leg of his flight and was now feeling jet-lagged and disoriented. It was only eight-thirty local time but it felt like eleven o'clock to Jake. He treated this malady as he did most things that plagued him these days. He had a few drinks. The bartender was an Intemperance fan and was setting him up with some fairly potent rum and cokes despite the early hour.
The lounge and the bar area within it were moderately crowded with rich travelers but no one bothered him. The average first-class traveler tended to not be someone who listened to Intemperance or who followed the ins and outs of celebrities. He was therefore quite surprised when a female voice from behind him suddenly called him by name.
"Jake Kingsley?" the voice asked. "I worship the very ground you walk on. Do you think you could sign my left breast?"
Jake had a grin on his face as he slowly turned his barstool toward the owner of the voice. The smell of vanilla in the air and the heavy Hispanic accent on the words had already derailed her joke. It was Celia Valdez standing next to him, an amused smile on her face. She was dressed in a manner Jake had never seen her before. She was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and an even baggier sweatshirt that served to hide her impressive bosom and her curves. She had large, dark sunglasses on her eyes and a Milwaukee Brewers baseball cap upon her head. Her luxuriant brunette hair had been tied in a tight ponytail that was sticking out through the hole in the back of the cap.
"How did you recognize me?" Jake asked her, returning her smile. "I have my disguise on." His disguise was very similar to hers. He wore jeans, a sweatshirt, dark glasses, and a baseball cap he'd bought in Cabo San Lucas. It was a disguise that fooled very few people.
"I felt your vibe," she told him. "It's good to see you, Jake." She held out her arms for a hug.
Surprised, Jake supplied her with one. He hadn't been aware that they were on hugging terms. Her body felt soft and very pliable against him. He felt the brief press of her breasts against his chest and the smell of her vanilla wafted strongly into his nose. He savored the sensation and released her when it seemed the time was right.
"Fancy running into you here," she said, sitting down at the barstool next to him.
"No kidding," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"The same thing you are, I suspect. We were out on tour but I have to make an appearance at the awards tonight so they can reject us properly."
"Oh yes," he said. "Well at least we kept our rejection date for the ceremony, if not the pre-party."
"I wouldn't be rejected with anyone else," she said. "Can I have one of those?" She pointed to his cigarette pack.
He raised his eyebrows a little but picked up the pack and pulled out a cigarette. He handed it to her and she put it in her mouth. He flicked his lighter and held it to the end. She inhaled expertly, taking a deep drag and blowing it slowly out over the bar.
"Thank you," she said. "I don't smoke very much but every once in a while I really need one. The flight in was simply horrible. We had turbulence almost the entire way, including a few jolts that made me start wondering if the plane was going to hold together." She shook her head. "I really hate flying."
"Where'd you come from?" Jake asked, taking a drag from his own smoke.
She tapped the emblem on the front of her baseball cap. "Milwaukee. It was colder than a witch's tit there, I'm here to tell you. I bought this hat in the airport just before we took off. What do you think? Will anyone know me?"
"No more than they'd know me," he said.
"Damn," she said. "I thought it was better than that."
He laughed. "Are you on Flight 109?" he asked.
"First class from DFW to LAX," she confirmed. "What's your seat number?"
"Row six, window," he said. "You?"
"Row eleven, aisle."
"Well, I'll wave at you on the way to the bathroom," he told her.
"And I'll shoot spitballs at you with my straw while you're reading."
He laughed again. "Deal. Can I buy you a drink?"
She nodded dramatically. "I thought you'd never ask."
Jake got the bartender's attention. He came over and his eyes lit up as he recognized Jake's companion. "Celia Valdez," he said, surprised. "I thought you and Jake didn't like each other."
"We don't," she told him. "But he's buying me a drink anyway. How about a double gin martini, very dry, with two olives and an onion?"
"Of course," he said, seemingly taken aback by her request. Nevertheless he turned to his bottles and began constructing it.
"Breaking out the heavy artillery, huh?" Jake asked.
"I think a nice buzz might help me enjoy my flight a little more. I had one on the first leg but I'm starting to lose it now."
"I'll tell him to keep them coming," Jake said.
"I have absolutely no money on me," she said. "You know how it is on these tours under these contracts, don't you? Are you sure you can afford to support my booze binge?"
"I think I can swing it," he told her.
"Good," she said with a grin. "I hate to impose but... well... actually that's a lie. I love to impose. This whole thing is kind of an adventure for me. It's not often I get to travel somewhere by myself. A pity it has to be on one of these flying deathtraps they call jet airliners. Humans really aren't supposed to fly, you know."
"You'll be fine as long as we don't crash," he said.
"Thank you. You're very comforting."