When it was the tour van’s turn to be yelled at, Victor held up passports to a particularly bored looking guard and was quickly waved through. This was the entire extent of their attentions. The massive steel swingarm blocking their forward movement was raised, and they were allowed to pass through. As the van began moving forward, Lena could swear she heard more soldiers shouting at each other, in voices that would otherwise have sounded positively murderous.
“Humpty dumpty sat on a wall, you German asshole!”
“Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, you Capitalist moron!” This exchange continued on in voices that sounded like the scene from an impromptu battlefield execution. Yet as the van pulled out of hearing range, Lena was certain she heard the other guards snickering.
“How is ‘German’ an insult?” she pondered. She very well understood why ‘Capitalist’ was, of course, but ‘German’? It must have been an American thing.
It always rained this time of year. Despite the bland regularity of the gray and grayer, and the fact that the weather was the same on either side of the god-damned Wall, in the GDR the bleak felt more like an omen than anything else. It was as if Mother Nature herself knew that no one particularly wanted to be back on that side of the Wall and decided to enhance the experience, adding to the already gloomy air that permeated the van.
“Yay. We’re back,” Vivika said in a tone even blander than the weather.
“Yup,” Victor said.
Lena had nothing to add herself.
“So…” Vivika began again, after some time, “uh, what now?”
The resulting silence indicated that Vivika was likely directing the question to Lena. This was unfortunate, as now Lena had to offer something in return which she very much didn’t want to do. “How the hell should I know?” she gruffed in a tone suggesting that very little could be expected of her.
“I wasn’t asking you; I was asking our fearless manager here.”
“How the hell should I know?!” he snapped.
“Well, you’re our road manager. You’re supposed to know these things.”
“Look,” he answered tersely, “it wasn’t my fault your band-mates all decided to run off. This stuff happens sometimes, for whatever reason. Maybe you will get lucky. Maybe both of them will get arrested and sent back here. Then you can be a band again.”
“But we currently aren’t a band,” Vivika said accusingly, “and that’s your fault.”
“How is it my fault?! It’s not my job to make sure you all don’t run off and do something stupid.”
“Yes,” Vivika crossed her arms. “Yes, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what your job is. I think that’s your only job—to corral us. So, having failed that job, what are you going to do for us now?”
“What the hell do you want me to do, Vivika?! I can’t magically make your old band-mates re-appear. I can’t magically find you new band-mates. I can’t play guitar, and even if I could, I’m not so sure I want to go through all that nonsense again. So… I’m sorry, but…”
“What nonsense did you go through? What did you do that entire time? You didn’t help with one single aspect. To hear Lena tell it, you actually made it harder for us.”
“Me?” Lena said, perking up at her mention. “No… guys, I’m staying out of this.”
“No, you should get involved,” Vivika said angrily. “This is as much your project as mine and we both got thrown to the wolves by this asshole. So now you need to help me convince him to fix this.”
“I… I…” Lena stuttered. She looked at the two of them. Victor was half trying to focus on driving, and half hiding the rash of red spreading across his face and neck. Vivika, however, was red-faced for an entirely different reason that Lena couldn’t figure out. The girl was becoming hysterical with anger, perhaps unduly so.
“Look, you guys…” Lena attempted. “I’m not gonna point fingers. We all probably had our part in what happened…”
“Oh, that’s how this is gonna be?” Vivika shouted, “Placating us? Placating him? I suppose that’s easy for you. You were the only person who won in all of this! While I was dealing with the venue, watching all of our gear, and trying to figure out what to do, and while Victor was trying to hide from any real responsibility like a chicken-shit, you were sleeping with Matt.”
Yeah. Lena had admitted to that. Now she was reaping the benefits of her indiscretion.
“Well, that’s…” Lena stammered.
“For four entire hours.”
“I mean… well…”
“Who the hell screws for four hours on a tour bus?!?”
“Some people are just gifted,” Lena said, trying to hide a smile.
“There’s no way he’s that gifted.”
“He’s pretty gifted.”
“What, does he have a nine-inch…”
“Ladies!” Victor shouted, with the flash of red growing brighter by the second.
Of course, Lena couldn’t have told them the truth of what had transpired on that tour bus. So, she had worked hard to give them a separate impression. A little bit of disheveled hair, mussed makeup, a mis-placed shoulder-strap and the ‘walk-of-shame’ had revealed to the both of them everything they needed to know, true or not. Vivika had attempted a begrudging-sort of congratulations, although she had seemed upset about it. She had remained upset for the duration of the trip, which Lena had chalked up to simple jealousy.
Victor, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care in the least. Despite how un-Patrick-like he appeared to be in his indecisive Victor-ness, he did seem to have a nearly imperceptible spring in his step.
“Whatever,” she thought. “She’s just jealous.” Of course, if Vivika could even conceive of what had really transpired on the tour bus, she might very well be even more jealous. Goodness, how adventure seemed to pile itself into Lena’s life. On top of being the lead-singer of a (now defunct) punk band, she was also the ultimate super-spy-slash-double-agent for two opposing clandestine organizations, and seemed to be the invisible crux of an entire underground wave, “My life is like a movie!” she congratulated herself.
It was strange, she realized. After the Interhostel she was practically ready to bolt into West Germany the very first chance she had, wanting nothing to do with this realm whatsoever. But now, having received a new sales-pitch, she almost relished the opportunity to go back to the hotel. The sheer danger of it all… the convoluted messiness… the complication… no one else’s life could possibly compare. And Vivika, well, she just wouldn’t understand—especially if she knew what Lena’s true mission was.
She had two jobs. The first, simply put, was to start dating Matt York. Yes, that’s right. She was supposed to officially start dating the preeminent Punker (also a secret agent) himself.
According to Mr. Collins, the whole ‘Dead Weights’-thing was nothing more than a covert operation which was maddeningly simple. The GDR wanted one singular thing above all other attainable goals: gain international recognition as its own sovereign entity. So far, it had made some headway, in that it was formally recognized by the UN’s Defense Council. But that was largely because the Soviets were on the damn council and controlled the Soviet Union’s perverse version of NATO… of which the GDR belonged to.
Recognition by the Soviets wasn’t enough, though. The GDR needed recognition by America and NATO. Once that happened, the GDR was free to escape the mad clutches of the Soviet dogs and its damn Warsaw Pact, and was one step closer to never having to kowtow to the Americans again.