Lauryl
The Fly
Chapter 2: Bit O' Burger King Luck
*
The day wore on, and miraculously they found themselves laughing and carrying on like old friends. She forgot that he was a rock star, that he had millions of dollars in the bank, that his songs had somehow kept her from suicide many times; but then she'd look over and he'd be chewing on his thumb and then give her that lopsided smirk and she could easily drive off the road.
The sun was setting as they pulled into a small town. "Welcome to the grand Mohave," she said sarcastically. "Hungry?"
He perked up. "Yeah!"
"We're in luck then. As long as you consider Burger King luck." She parked the car and they walked in. He refused to go hide and let her order for the both of them, so after they both got their food he headed for a seat and she headed to go powder her nose.
Once in the solitude of the bathroom, she leant against the door and closed her eyes. Everything finally sank in, and she stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from shouting with delight. A middle-aged woman washed her hands, pretending not to notice her. Instead of moving out of the way of the door, Miranda grabbed her and twirled her in a full circle, saying something about how life was good.
The confused woman finally escaped, and Miranda went to check her makeup. This time she did scream, at the state of her hair. She looked around furtively, as if someone hiding in a trash can would pop out and arrest her for making a noise, but all was silent again. She sighed and fished a comb out of her bag.
She found Bono in a corner booth, staring out the window at the sunset. She slid in across from him and they dug into their food.
"Why didn't you tell me my hair looked like Edward Scissorhands?"
He chuckled into his hamburger. "It was cute. Windblown, you know."
*
The only light outside now was the headlights streaming on the endless road in front of them, and the only light inside was the dashboard and the green digits that read 10:41. The only sound was rain on the roof and Bono's voice telling stories in a soft "late-night" voice she doubted she'd ever heard from him. Much to her chagrin, and surprise, it was putting her to sleep.
"Er, hey, do you want me to drive?"
She sat up straighter and blinked at the road. "Why do you say that?"
"You went over the double yellow line twice in the last minute. Come on, I'll be careful."
She gave in and pulled over. "That would be great."
"Right, shall we make a mad dash for it?"
Only then did she remember the rain, and slumped a little in her seat at the prospect of a Chinese fire drill. She hated getting wet and not being able to dry off immediately.
"Or we could just crawl over each other here," he offered, and if she hadn't known better she'd have thought he threw her a cheeky wink from behind his transparent glasses.
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her thoughts in check. "Uh, ok."
There was a pair of "click"s as they undid their seat belts, and a series of "oof"s and "mff"s and "oh sorry"s as they traded spots. She tried to inch along the dash, as he crawled along the seat backs, but there was still enough touching to send her into conniptions if she'd been awake enough to really notice it. After all, it was not every day you got your legs tangled with Bono and engaged in a split second playful foot-fight.
*
The clock was the first thing that swam into view. 1:17. A pair of sunglasses lying on the dash reflected in the windshield. The windshield-wipers moved hypnotically across the window, renewing the view of the unrenewing landscape all around them. The glow from the dashboard shone softly on Bono's naked face.
"Where are we?" Her voice sounded low and gravelly.
He started at her voice, then scratched his head and tugged on a lock of his black hair. When he spoke, his voice was low but as velvety as it had ever been. "Well, I was hoping, uh, you might know."
She uncurled herself from where she'd been propped against the door. "Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means," she yawned.
He laughed nervously, looking over at her. "We're probably almost there, right?"
She collapsed against the back of the seat, eyes closed, exhaling slowly. She began to chuckle, a throaty noise growing louder as she thought about it, and finally she found herself cracking up at the roof of the car. "We so totally passed it, Bono."
He didn't seem to find anything funny about the situation, so she calmed herself and reached into the backseat for her road atlas. He switched on the light, pulling over. Regretfully donning a pair of glasses from the glove box she bent over the map with him. She asked him which of the places he remembered passing signs for, but he hadn't been paying attention to most of the signs.
Sighing, she pulled off her glasses and replicated his yawn. "Well, we're past San Fransisco, but I don't know how far. It could be hours before we hit any kind of civilisation... I don't know these parts well."
He stretched, seeming unconcerned that they were utterly lost (though she wasn't complaining either). "Mmm, I could just go to sleep right here and not wake up till next week."
"Let's do it," she sighed.
"What?"
"Sleep. Both of us are wiped; it'd be dangerous."
Bono didn't think twice as he turned off the engine. "Ok. You take the backseat, I'll-"
She stopped him, tilting her seat back with a CACHUNK. "No, I hate sleeping in the backseat, I'll just curl up right here."
"Well, if you want to..."
"Yeah." She turned off the light and reached into the backseat, grabbing a pillow and a blanket and shoving a cooler down behind his seat. "Always be prepared," she explained.
He made his awkward way into the backseat, fingers brushing her shoulder as he grasped her seat for balance. It was the last thing she remembered.
*
Miranda's internal clock woke her at 6. She stretched labouriously and looked around her; as soon as she saw the man in her backseat she jumped. It shook the car enough for him to open his eyes and look straight at her.
"Mornin, princess."
"Morning. Sorry I woke you up like that but it's not every day I have a rock star in my backseat." She raised an eyebrow. "And my name's Miranda."
"You didn't wake me up. I was just thinking." He left out the part about also having been watching her.
"Right." She threw off her blanket and yawned. "What a morning."
"Yeah," he agreed, attempting to fold his blanket. It wasn't going well, and he finally dumped it on his pillow with a laugh and got out of the car. She got out as well, basking in the sunrise, and then
"Nice try, buddy. Passenger side."
He walked around the car to get in on the right, grinning like his halo had fallen off and he'd caught it on the way down. She started the car, found a place to turn around, and headed back the way they'd come.
He was wondering what his mates were going to say when he finally found them, when she suddenly snorted with laughter. He looked at her with confusion. "What!"
"Nothing," she giggled.
He reached up to inspect his hair, frowning, and began to laugh as well. It felt like he had the worst "morning hair" he'd had in months. "Uh, can I borrow a comb?"
Still smiling, she reached into her purse and pulled one out. "I like your hair looking like that though... windblown, you know."
*
*
The day wore on, and miraculously they found themselves laughing and carrying on like old friends. She forgot that he was a rock star, that he had millions of dollars in the bank, that his songs had somehow kept her from suicide many times; but then she'd look over and he'd be chewing on his thumb and then give her that lopsided smirk and she could easily drive off the road.
The sun was setting as they pulled into a small town. "Welcome to the grand Mohave," she said sarcastically. "Hungry?"
He perked up. "Yeah!"
"We're in luck then. As long as you consider Burger King luck." She parked the car and they walked in. He refused to go hide and let her order for the both of them, so after they both got their food he headed for a seat and she headed to go powder her nose.
Once in the solitude of the bathroom, she leant against the door and closed her eyes. Everything finally sank in, and she stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from shouting with delight. A middle-aged woman washed her hands, pretending not to notice her. Instead of moving out of the way of the door, Miranda grabbed her and twirled her in a full circle, saying something about how life was good.
The confused woman finally escaped, and Miranda went to check her makeup. This time she did scream, at the state of her hair. She looked around furtively, as if someone hiding in a trash can would pop out and arrest her for making a noise, but all was silent again. She sighed and fished a comb out of her bag.
She found Bono in a corner booth, staring out the window at the sunset. She slid in across from him and they dug into their food.
"Why didn't you tell me my hair looked like Edward Scissorhands?"
He chuckled into his hamburger. "It was cute. Windblown, you know."
*
The only light outside now was the headlights streaming on the endless road in front of them, and the only light inside was the dashboard and the green digits that read 10:41. The only sound was rain on the roof and Bono's voice telling stories in a soft "late-night" voice she doubted she'd ever heard from him. Much to her chagrin, and surprise, it was putting her to sleep.
"Er, hey, do you want me to drive?"
She sat up straighter and blinked at the road. "Why do you say that?"
"You went over the double yellow line twice in the last minute. Come on, I'll be careful."
She gave in and pulled over. "That would be great."
"Right, shall we make a mad dash for it?"
Only then did she remember the rain, and slumped a little in her seat at the prospect of a Chinese fire drill. She hated getting wet and not being able to dry off immediately.
"Or we could just crawl over each other here," he offered, and if she hadn't known better she'd have thought he threw her a cheeky wink from behind his transparent glasses.
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her thoughts in check. "Uh, ok."
There was a pair of "click"s as they undid their seat belts, and a series of "oof"s and "mff"s and "oh sorry"s as they traded spots. She tried to inch along the dash, as he crawled along the seat backs, but there was still enough touching to send her into conniptions if she'd been awake enough to really notice it. After all, it was not every day you got your legs tangled with Bono and engaged in a split second playful foot-fight.
*
The clock was the first thing that swam into view. 1:17. A pair of sunglasses lying on the dash reflected in the windshield. The windshield-wipers moved hypnotically across the window, renewing the view of the unrenewing landscape all around them. The glow from the dashboard shone softly on Bono's naked face.
"Where are we?" Her voice sounded low and gravelly.
He started at her voice, then scratched his head and tugged on a lock of his black hair. When he spoke, his voice was low but as velvety as it had ever been. "Well, I was hoping, uh, you might know."
She uncurled herself from where she'd been propped against the door. "Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means," she yawned.
He laughed nervously, looking over at her. "We're probably almost there, right?"
She collapsed against the back of the seat, eyes closed, exhaling slowly. She began to chuckle, a throaty noise growing louder as she thought about it, and finally she found herself cracking up at the roof of the car. "We so totally passed it, Bono."
He didn't seem to find anything funny about the situation, so she calmed herself and reached into the backseat for her road atlas. He switched on the light, pulling over. Regretfully donning a pair of glasses from the glove box she bent over the map with him. She asked him which of the places he remembered passing signs for, but he hadn't been paying attention to most of the signs.
Sighing, she pulled off her glasses and replicated his yawn. "Well, we're past San Fransisco, but I don't know how far. It could be hours before we hit any kind of civilisation... I don't know these parts well."
He stretched, seeming unconcerned that they were utterly lost (though she wasn't complaining either). "Mmm, I could just go to sleep right here and not wake up till next week."
"Let's do it," she sighed.
"What?"
"Sleep. Both of us are wiped; it'd be dangerous."
Bono didn't think twice as he turned off the engine. "Ok. You take the backseat, I'll-"
She stopped him, tilting her seat back with a CACHUNK. "No, I hate sleeping in the backseat, I'll just curl up right here."
"Well, if you want to..."
"Yeah." She turned off the light and reached into the backseat, grabbing a pillow and a blanket and shoving a cooler down behind his seat. "Always be prepared," she explained.
He made his awkward way into the backseat, fingers brushing her shoulder as he grasped her seat for balance. It was the last thing she remembered.
*
Miranda's internal clock woke her at 6. She stretched labouriously and looked around her; as soon as she saw the man in her backseat she jumped. It shook the car enough for him to open his eyes and look straight at her.
"Mornin, princess."
"Morning. Sorry I woke you up like that but it's not every day I have a rock star in my backseat." She raised an eyebrow. "And my name's Miranda."
"You didn't wake me up. I was just thinking." He left out the part about also having been watching her.
"Right." She threw off her blanket and yawned. "What a morning."
"Yeah," he agreed, attempting to fold his blanket. It wasn't going well, and he finally dumped it on his pillow with a laugh and got out of the car. She got out as well, basking in the sunrise, and then
"Nice try, buddy. Passenger side."
He walked around the car to get in on the right, grinning like his halo had fallen off and he'd caught it on the way down. She started the car, found a place to turn around, and headed back the way they'd come.
He was wondering what his mates were going to say when he finally found them, when she suddenly snorted with laughter. He looked at her with confusion. "What!"
"Nothing," she giggled.
He reached up to inspect his hair, frowning, and began to laugh as well. It felt like he had the worst "morning hair" he'd had in months. "Uh, can I borrow a comb?"
Still smiling, she reached into her purse and pulled one out. "I like your hair looking like that though... windblown, you know."
*
