Page 34 of Catcher's Lock
“I drive stoned all the time.” After two years of practice, I’ve gotten pretty good at functioning while high. Josha rolls his eyes, unimpressed.
We’re halfway through the jump to our last city of the tour, and Josha and I decided to stop for lunch in Oakland. Ratherthan trying to parallel park the box truck on the street, I’d opted for the parking garage. In retrospect, we should have stuck with some truck-stop fried chicken.
“Back it up so we can get out and see how bad it is,” he says, pulling out his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Jesse.” At my scowl, he adds, “He’s riding in the quad cab with Hals.”
Jesse is one of the tramp wall gymnasts in this year’s cast, and Josha has a huge crush on him. Which isfine. I have a Jessie, too, this tour. Mine is the flyer in our acro duo, and her mom is a coach at ENC in Montreal. The best things about her are her flexibility and her French-Canadian accent.
Josha’s Jesse is eighteen, with golden hair, green eyes, and a fucking tongue piercing that Josha isobsessedwith. He’s also ripped, talented, and a total flirt. And he’s bi.
I hate him.
“Would you rather I called Shilo?” Josha asks, eyebrows arched knowingly.
“Whatever.” I shove my way out of the truck. “Let’s find out how fucked we are.”
Things with my mom have been…complicated since she and Cheyenne moved back to the lot. Partly because she swept in and took overourshow, relegating me to a minor act and Josha to an apprentice tech, but mainly because of the way she treats my dad. Like they can go back to being best friends and business partners while she sleeps with Cheyenne in a trailer fifty yards away. Worse, heletsher. He’s so grateful to have her and Milla back he’s started treating Cheyenne like part of the family. It’s pathetic.
I tried calling her out on it earlier in the spring, when it became obvious that she was sticking around like nothing everhappened.
“Dad is obviously still in love with you. How can you sit there calling him your best friend when you treat him like some fucking accessory to yourreallife?”
“Your fatherismy best friend,” she replies. “We have a shared dream. Big Top. You and Milla. Our family.”
“Cheyenneisn’tour family,” I spit. “If Big Top is you and Dad’s dream, why do you need her?”
“Because being best friends isn’t enough, Gem. I love Hals, but meeting Cheyenne was like…finally waking up after being half asleep my whole life. There was no turning my back on that, even though it hurt. Your father loves me enough to be happy for the first part and forgive me for the second.”
“Yeah, well, that’s his choice. I don’t have to like it.”
She sighs, gazing off across the tent to where Josha and my dad are singing along to the Rolling Stones while they test the soundboard.
“I don’t need you to like it, Gem. But I hope someday you understand.”
Turns out, the truck isn’t that fucked—I only peeled about eighteen inches of roof back, and the side panels are basically fine. Both my parents are pissed, though, because we can’t drive it around with a bunch of valuable equipment exposed.
Josha and I are both sent back to Mendo to fix it, effectively banished from the final run of the show. I feel kinda bad about dragging him down with me, but since I have no hope of fixing the damn thing without him, I don’t protest. He doesn’t put up a fight either, even though it means leaving his precious Jesse behind.
We have to unload the gear at the site in Calistoga and help set the king poles and raise the sidewalls before my mom finally releases us, and by the time we pull into thedeserted home lot, we’re both exhausted. There are a couple of camping tents in the big barnlike shop, but neither of us feel like wrangling one of them in the dark, so we end up crashing out in our old hammock without even removing our shoes.
The thing about hammocks is, they’re great for an afternoon nap, but not really designed for two seventeen-year-old guys to get a good night’s sleep in. I wake up sweaty and stiff, with a crick in my neck and an ache in my shoulder where it’s squished at an awkward angle under my head. I’m also half draped over Josha, who has the magical ability to sleep on his back like a psychopath. He’s warm and solid and still beneath me, but I can tell he’s awake by his breathing—and the semi pressing into my leg.
I shift slightly, pretending to stretch, curiously fascinated by the feel of him swelling under my thigh.
“You finally awake?” He shoves me off him and swings his feet over the side, hiding his crotch from me. I can’t help the smug smile that bleeds into my voice.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
The look he sends over his shoulder simmers with repressed heat—under the resignation. It’s a look I haven’t seen from him in a while, and my heart kicks greedily in response.
“We gotta make a run to town today. We need food and a few supplies that aren’t already in the shop. Hals gave me a credit card to use.” He’d spent almost an hour with my dad yesterday, making lists and coming up with the plan to fix the truck, while I was busting my ass unloading speakers and cables and pieces of the stage. “And we can hit up Sweetwater while we’re there. I need a shower.”
“You don’t want to go home to your trailer? The shower there is free.”
“No way. If my family knows I’m back, I’ll getsucked into a bunch of chores. Plus, I’ll have to explain why we’re here and…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t want to deal with all that.”
