River had arranged to get a car, and he left within minutes, gone for the day. Gabe needed to do some shopping, so he tagged along.
I wished I could have gone with River to see his home. He lived nearby, so he was probably going there. The delusional part of my mind still dreamed of spending my life with him, so I was curious to see where I'd be living. But the sensible part of me pointed out that he was really going to visit his secret girlfriend.
Buck and Chuck sat around the living room table and glared at each other. Chuck was in his usual tattered jeans and a white T-shirt. Buck's jeans and T-shirt were both black. I took in the situation with numb resignation. Here I was, witness to a full Fiery Boys feud between two incredibly good-looking band members.
I stood by the table for a few minutes, waiting to see which of them would break the silence. Finally, I gave up and took matters into my own hands. I fetched three bottles of beer in an effort to make peace. It was early, not even lunchtime for normal people and way before that for us. But these boys definitely needed a drink.
"You two have got to stop acting like children. Buck, you're too sensitive, and Chuck, you're too insensitive." I held my bottle out. "To the two of you. May you survive the next month together."
My gesture seemed to work. Chuck had the cold bottle against his still-injured nose, so he pulled it away to join my toast. Buck looked up at me for a few seconds, then tapped my bottle with a partial smile as he nodded his thanks. We drank in silence.
The Minneapolis concert was just like the Chicago ones. Standing in the wing with Jason, I felt awash in déjà vu. Even the song list was the same.
When it was time for them to play "Fiery Life," I turned to leave the wing. I did not want to see what Chuck would do tonight. It saddened me to think that the band was quickly turning my favorite song into a dreaded event. As I walked away, I heard Chuck start up his usual inter-song banter.
Suddenly there was a clattering sound, and Buck's voice rang through the hall. "Wait a minute. This is important." Even I stopped to listen.
With the microphone in his hand, Buck took center stage, his bass guitar hanging in front of him. "Listen up, Minneapolis. We were in Chicago last night. Those people think they're the best Fiery Boys fans in the world." The crowd booed and Buck held his hands out to silence them, grinning at the expected reaction. "You may be right. Minneapolis seems like it is better." The city roared its agreement.