When I Should've Stayed Home (Track Twelve: III) 3, chapter 16

*Knight*

Some truck stops were new, and it showed in their coffee. The places that had the little machines, where all you did was push a button and coffee came spilling out, were the worst. The coffee was decent, but too manufactured-tasting. In the case of most roadies, the coffee was about as effective as warm milk in keeping them awake.

Other truck stops were older, seasoned, and knew what travelers wanted. This unremarkable establishment, in a tiny town somewhere in Alabama, had four pots of home-brewed coffee. The decaffeinated pot was full, the one labelled "Average Strength" was three-quarters gone, and the two labelled "No Rest For The Weary" were completely empty.

Luckily, for the owners of the establishment, the cashier had just finished making those two particular pots when the roadies trooped inside. Like hounds, they knew good coffee when they smelt it. The unfortunate few who had decided their bladder was more important were now sipping normal strength. The rest, who were slow in rising, would most likely have to content themselves with the hideous decaf.

Knight, fingers curled protectively around her Styrofoam cup, took the opportunity to look over the assembled roadies. Most were still dozing, leaning on the refreshments counter. Keely had her arm around one man's shoulder and was mouthing something into his ear. He grinned, letting his hand slide up and down her ribs. Knight did not know whether to be disgusted or amused.

I guess I should be used to that by now. After all, she is Keely.

Trista sat beside the bass tech, Felix, on high stools in front of the long counter. Unlike the rest of the crew, Trista had not learned to get over her dislike of coffee. Consequently, she was desperately chugging down an ice-cold Coke.

Where's Nick? I wouldn't think he'd be the sort to get huffy about the whole acid incident. With a mind like his, I thought he'd figure that not appearing makes him look a hell of a lot more guilty.

The truck stop's door opened slowly. Doug eased his way in, followed by the illustrious band. No one of them looked too excited about being awake. Most likely, they had only just gone to bed. Tré made a beeline for the bathroom, while the rest slumped down in booth seats.

Nick slunk in, glaring at everyone and everything. He took a half step towards the refreshments counter, scowled more deeply, and then situated himself beside the newspaper stand.

Keely's newest love interest looked up from staring down the top of the Front of House Engineer's shirt. A wicked grin showed underneath his heavy stubble.

"Hey, Knight, wanna offer up one of those stories? Might be enough to get minds runnin' at this hour."

Knight stared down into the tan puddle of coffee at the bottom of her cup. The little straw she had to use in order to drink with her bandana on tipped back in forth in the slight wind from her breathing. She had been fool to think that the legend around her name would remain exclusive to that particular past tour.

Well, I can rip his head off. And that'll be that. But, they're all wasted from the extra duty. If I bitch at them too much, I'll have a mutiny. I guess I gotta play nice.

Grinning wolfishly, she returned, "Do you got a couple beers on hand? I ain't cheap."

The man rolled his eyes and looked at her pleadingly. It seemed that he honestly wanted to listen to her. By this time, most of the roadies were looking back and forth between the man and Knight.

"D'you guys not know how she got her name?" the man asked.

Here we go again.

"Apparently," the man drawled, "she got wasted one evening and spent most of it spurting out all sorts of weird medieval shit. Like how the crowd's like serfs and them stagehands are like squires. The Front of House and the backline are like knights. As she figured it, the Stage Manager's like a bishop. Far as I remember, Backline Crew Chief, was Duke. The talent, they were the kings."

Some stories are best forgotten. Please don't get into that. One more step and you're gonna be over the line.

The band twisted around in their seats to grin at Knight. Billie Joe made a movement as if he was adjusting an imaginary crown. The rest put on snooty faces.

"So how come she ain't Duke?" someone asked.

"'Cause I wasn't born a Backline Crew Chief." Knight retorted. "You start at the bottom and work your way up."

"So, do you know anything about all that king stuff then?" Keely's boyfriend asked.

"Yeah. More than you," Knight shot.

"Well, tell us something worth listening too." Keely nudged the man in the ribs. "Er, if you want to."

Knight let her eyes drift over the assembled touring crew. Most people looked like they were genuinely interested. Even crotchety Doug appeared content with this slight deviation from schedule.

Tré cruised past on his return from the bathroom, sporting a toilet paper tie and turban. With a mischievous smirk he seated himself beside Mike, who immediately started to snigger. Though the drummer obviously had no idea what was going on, he fixated Knight with an attentive stare. That alone made up Knight's mind. She would not back down.

What to say... what to say.

Knight's gaze continued to dart around as her mind rummaged for something to say. Nick, standing in his corner, watched with an odd expression that intermingled hate, challenge, and—strangely enough—encouragement.

"It comes to mind that many of you have heard of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Some of you know about Sir Lancelot—Arthur's friend and best knight—and his affair with Guinevere, Arthur's wife. But there were more people sitting at the round table. One of the more popular, but now hardly known, was Gawain—whose name means 'The Hawk of May'."

Why this would I do this one? It would've been easier to have done one on Arthur. Okay now, take it easy. It's too late now. Just don't get acting like some ancient teller of tales. Talk like an average person. Be normal.

"Uh, Gawain was known as 'The Best Bleedin' Knight in the Whole World.' Also, he was a bit on the arrogant side. Anyroad, he happened to be riding around one day, out in a forest when he met three fishermen.

"They told him t' go back because they'd seen lots of knights go down the road, but none ever came back. The fishermen figured the knights were killed. Of course, Gawain was the Best Bleedin' Knight in the Whole World so, he figured the fishermen were barkin' mad to even decide to warn him. So, he went on his way.

"Sure enough, he comes along to this big ol' castle. There's a lord, and his daughter. As things go—if you read enough or listen to enough of these stories—she was the hottest thing Gawain had seen in a while."

At this, a few people grinned and murmured quietly. Knight had the attention of nearly all of the touring crew—including the band. Her nerves shrieked that she was drawing too much attention. Too many people were watching her. Attention was bad, very bad. Taking a deep breath, Knight pushed back the panic and continued to speak.

*Trista*

Everyone seemed to think—No, not everyone, mainly just Nick—that Knight was nothing more than a cold taskmistress. Then again, up until now, Knight had never given indication to Nick that she acted otherwise. Taking another deep swallow of her bitingly cold and carbonated drink, Trista focused her ears upon the tale.

"Apparently, the lord of the castle thought that Gawain was a good match for his daughter. Everybody was fine with that, 'cause the daughter had her eye on Gawain too. She did, really, but she acted like a real bitch, a really mean bitch. She put Gawain down like you wouldn't believe. Went out of her way, all through dinner, to stomp all over him. Being as he's a guy—no offence—" Knight paused. Trista could sense the smirk on Knight's face, under the bandana. "He completely missed the point. A smarter person would've taken the hint and left.

Typical guy. Never know when to stop. Instinctively, Trista looked around for Nick. He was nowhere in sight.

"Unlike most parents, the lord basically pushed Gawain and the daughter into sharing the same bedroom. Now, of course, you'd think that doing that would be a little dodgy. What loving parent wants his daughter in the same room—at night, in the same bed—as a guy that's obviously turned on?

"After eating, Gawain and his girlfriend go upstairs to her room. It's a big room, with a huge bed and silk sheets. There's a sword leaning against one of the walls, all decorative and what not.

"After knowing each other for a grand total of two hours, Gawain and his girl get to snogging. As the story goes, they do this for a few more hours—I guess they were getting to know each other better—before things start getting' interesting.

"The girl tells him if he wants to stay alive, he better just keep himself to himself. The sword that was sitting around being pretty is her protector. Her sicko father did what he'd done to Gawain to a bunch of other knights. The sword had killed them.

"Of course, Gawain doesn't listen—after all, she was being bitchy before, and he knew she liked him—and tries a few things but doesn't get too far. The sword pops out of its sheath—that's like it's case—and slices him across the side. Just a nick, nothing serious. That freaks him out and he stops. The girlfriend's surprised too 'cause the sword had never not killed anyone before.

"So, after a bit, Gawain gets over his shock and gets turned on again. He tries for a little action. The sword attacks him again—gets him in the shoulder—and he gives up. Of course, they're both freaked out, and neither of them sleep.

"The lord comes in way early in the morning, 'cause he wants to see all the gore. There's a couple of blood splashes but nothing much else. The lord figures that something's up. He does a little digging and figures out who Gawain is. Of course, it hits him. Nobody, not even a magic sword, could kill the Best Bleedin' Knight in the Whole World. Duh.

"The lord thinks that having Gawain for a son-in-law's brilliant. So, Gawain and the girl get married that day. Whirl-wind romance or what? The lord wants to give Gawain all this shit for a wedding present, but Gawain says no. That evening, he gets to spend an uninterrupted, no sword attacking, evening with his new wife. And so they live happily ever after for a grand total of three years."

Knight turned her back on her audience and dumped her coffee cup in the garbage. The tale, despite its brief ending, was over.

Felix nudged Trista. "That's it?"

"For that part, anyhow. There's a whole intermixing thing about King Arthur's knights. It would take her days to tell it all." Trista said.

"Hey, what happened after the three years?" Keely's boyfriend called.

"Lots more things," Knight responded. "But we have a job to do. We aren't kiddies that can sit around for an extended story time."

"That's a rip-off. What about the end?" Another male voice demanded. "What happened?"

"You're not going to find out now." Doug's voice rumbled across the room. "Everybody back on the trucks."

There was a general grumble of displeasure. The roadies slowly rose out of their seats.


Muted notes of a tropical-sounding ring tone issued from Felix's pocket. The lanky man jumped, and rummaged in his coat.

"Dammit. What pocket was it in?" He patted himself down. "There you are." Quickly, he reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat and withdrew his cell.

"Hello?" His face dropped like a stone. "What?" Ecstatic joy burst over his features. "Just now? Really? Boy or girl?" Trista could make out the tones of a male voice as he replied to Felix. "Boy! A boy! Wow. How's Ang?"

Trista considered moving off to give Felix some privacy, but there was no real place to go. Instead, she pretended to be completely absorbed in watching the roadies file out of the truck stop.

There was more garbled male speaking. "Yeah. I know." A brief word. "Okay."

Felix snapped his cell phone shut and jammed it into his pocket. He leaned forward so he was in Trista's line of sight. His green eyes sparkled, yet Trista was surprised to see tears in the corner of his eyes.

"Guess what?" Trista shrugged in response. "I'm a father! Cool or what? This is awesome. He's a boy. The labour was really short, and everybody's fine. He's got red hair. Lots of it. I can't wait to see him." Without waiting for a reply, he nearly vaulted off the stool and headed for Knight.

Trista hung back, not willing to go anywhere lest she run into Nick unexpectedly. Her stomach twisted nauseatingly as she thought about him. He was such a prick, but he had acted completely out of character the previous evening.

Did he do it? Or didn't he?

"Hey."

Trista blinked in surprise as she found Mike standing on her left and Billie Joe on her right. Mike tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.

"How you makin' out?"

"Uh... uh... "

It's bleedin' impossible trying to talk with two of them! And I hope I remember things that just didn't happen. Otherwise this is like a zillion times more awkward.

"Not bad."

Why the hell is Billie staring at me? Snob or what? It's not like I'm going to mess up his fancy clothes or something. Trista bit her lip as she realized that Billie Joe's clothing was in no better—maybe even worse—condition than hers. What did I do?

"Did you ever figure out who did it?" Billie Joe asked slowly. The slight disapproval in his tone was unmistakable.

Shortened by too little sleep and too much stress, Trista's temper began to heat. Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can pick on me!

"No. We didn't," she replied sharply. "We figured out nothing. I bounced off the walls for the evening, and now here I am."

At this rebuke, Billie Joe raised an eyebrow. His lips pursed ever-so-slightly in an expression with which Trista was much too familiar. Mike cast him a sideways glance. Billie Joe's eyes narrowed unhappily, but he retreated to racks of junk food on the far side of the store.

"I, uh, it's hard, um." Trista sighed inwardly as Mike's features settled into an expression of gentle patience. He must be used to this kind of thing. "Okay, I can't really figure out what exactly happened yesterday, but since you know, I'm going to assume that what I can remember is basically what happened. So, thank you."

"It was nothin'. I'm nobody's hero. To tell the truth," he adjusted his backwards-placed cap so it sat at a greater angle, "if I'd thought you were an addict, I would've just left you."

"Oh."

"Listen," he dropped his voice, "Billie's watchin' me like a hawk. Thought I'd let you know."

"Uh, okay." Why are you telling me this? "Kinda like that?" She tilted her head in Billie Joe's direction. The guitarist had not strayed more than fifteen feet from Mike, and was just barely out of earshot.

"Yeah." Mike's voice returned to a normal volume. "I was wondering if we could do make a little bit of a deal."

"A deal?"

"Tré's out to get Knight, right? Well, we were kinda thinking maybe we could get you over on our side. You know, let us know what kind of things she hates, where she's vulnerable."

"Oh." Trista stalled for time as she tried to consider all angles. "What kind of vulnerable?"

He's asking me for help. As Felix would say, holy shit. This would be so brilliant! But, can I do it? Can I help them do to Knight what she did to Tré? That's betrayal. I don't think I can get away with that. But, I would get to hang out with them! Who wouldn't jump at a chance like that?

"You know, stuff like where she spends a lot of time. When does she sleep, maybe let us know when she's more tired than usual. Shit like that."

"Isn't it kind of cheating?" Trista asked hesitantly.

Mike cracked a grin. "It's only cheating if you get caught."

Trista bit her lip. How am I supposed to say no when he's looking so bleeding cute?

"I don't think I can," she said heavily.

"Why not?"

"It's a little too much like treason." Trista said. "Plus, I don't think I want to be on the receiving end of anything she can create. Besides, family loyalty and all."

"Well, you'll never amount to much of a prank master if you can't turn on your family." Mike replied.

"I guess you could say," Trista said slowly, with a touch of regret, "it's never been one of my priorities."

*Knight*

"I don't know what to say. Congratulations." It was difficult, but Knight managed to inject a bit of sincerity into her speech.

He has no idea what this means.

"You're okay with this? I mean, you won't go around bitchin' 'cause I didn't give the two weeks notice?" Felix shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again.

"You told me when you signed on that this would happen. I'd call that more than two weeks."

"Okay. Good, 'cause I would've just left anyhow." Felix smiled. "God, I can't wait to see him."

"It's a boy then?" Knight queried.

"Yeah. Not too big, but he's got a lot of hair. Ang—Angela—my wife, thinks that he's going to have blue eyes. Time will tell." Felix continued to smile happily, drifting in his own thoughts. Knight waited patiently for him to come back down to reality.

Abruptly, Felix's face twitched. "Sorry about that, it's just, it's so weird. Have you ever seen a newborn?" he asked.

The question caught Knight off guard. She opened her mouth with a instant, biting reply, but instead sealed her lips again. Pretending she had a sore throat, Knight coughed.

"Uh, no. No, I've haven't," she said. "I never had anyone around that had new babies."

"Oh, well, that's a shame." Felix shrugged. "I haven't either, but, as soon as you're a parent—God, I'm a parent, me—it doesn't seem to matter. I haven't even seen him and it's like I know him."

Feeling uncomfortable, Knight suggested, "You better call a cab, you'll need to get going. Where are you headed anyways?"

"Back to Illinois. Cairo actually." Felix nodded and looked towards the door. "Yeah. I should go."

Knight crossed her arms. "Yeah." She clenched her fingers around her arms to prevent herself from doing something stupid. "Take care of that kid, okay?"