Chapter Eighteen

 

Taylor had demanded the driver that we stop at a salon so that he could have his hair fixed. Celia was less then pleased, because it was cutting into our travel time. We didn't have a show tonight, but we did tomorrow and we needed to be across four more states by noon tomorrow for sound check and preparations for an eary, 6 PM start time. But you know Divapants. Whatever he says, goes. Regardless of other peoples opinions or other obligations. The world works on Diva Time.

 

So here we are, driving this massive tour bus through this small town, named Cashtown or Cowtown or something. Trying to find a salon that is up to his standards. We've past a few, but he's dismissed them all with some reason or other. Finally, we find one with a glossy black sign and fancy writing that seems to suit his needs. The bus stops and he marches to the front, with a toque jammed over his new hair do.

 

“ZACHARY” He barks.

 

“What?” I ask, poking my head out of my bunk.

 

“You're coming.”

 

Ugh. Why me? It's not my damn hair. But I get up and follow him out anyway. He walks into th hair salon and lets the door slam in my face. I sit down in a chair as he marches up to the counter.

“I need my hair done. Um, right now. It's sort of urgent” Taylor tells the young blonde girl whose working.

“I'm sorry sir, we have about an hours wait.” She tells him.

 

I can see the fear in her eyes. Telling Divapants no is not something you want to do. It's like an antelope begging a hungry lion not to eat him.

 

“It's urgent” He repeats.

 

“I'll see what I can do, sir” She says meekly and then scampers off.

 

Taylor folds his arms over his chest and taps his foot impatiently as he waits for her to come back. I'm trying to hold off a smirk as I watch, but it's difficult. It's just too funny. I look outside and see Damien and Todd going to an arcade across the street. Damn. I wish I were with them instead.

 

“What exactly do you need done, sir?” The girl asks when she returns.

“A dye job” Taylor tells her, in a tone depicting that she should already know this.

 

“Heather can take care of you in about twenty minutes. That's the best we can do.” The girl tells him.

“Fine” Taylor nods and turns around, coming to join me.

 

We sit silently, neither of us daring to say a word. I'm thankful, I don't need him embarassing either of us even further. Taylor flips through a magazine, and I'm tempted to make a comment, because I notice that it's this months issue of Cosmopolitan, but I decide against it. Probably a wise move. Someone finally comes out and calls him back and I breathe a sigh of relief. I leaf through the pile of magazines until I find a fairly recent newspaper to read until he's finished.

 

Taylor comes out about an hour later, hair blonde again and looking very relieved. He walks right past the counter as if he isn't going to pay. I grab his arm as he reaches for the door handle. He looks at me as if I'm a coiled snake or something as equally gross.

“Aren't you going to pay?” I ask.

 

“No. You are. This was your fault. See you back on the bus, roadie.” He smiles sweetly and then walks out, letting the door slam.

 

I sigh and roll my eyes before heading up to the cash.

“Your boyfriend seems very lovely.” The girl chuckles.

 

“He's definitely NOT my boyfriend” I tell her quickly.

 

“Oh..” She says quietly. “Anyway, um, the total is $142.56”

 

My eyes nearly pop out of my head and my jaw nearly slams the counter. This is ridiculous! But I don't have a choice. I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and toss my Visa card on the counter. She swipes the card and I sign the slip. I put my wallet back in my pocket and leave the salon. This prank war is getting expensive. I'm sure that it's far from over, though.

 

As I'm walking out of the salon, I feel my cellphone vibrate in my pocket. I reach in and pull it out. It's a text message from my best friend back home, Kayla. It reads;

 

“Zac, miss you.  Your exboyfriend came around yesterday looking for you, wanting to talk. I think you should call him. Call me too sometime, eh?  <3 u”

 

My heart sinks a little and my stomach flops. For more then one reason. I don't want to talk to my ex. But it does make me think, a bit, about what he wants to tell me, what he wants to happen. Maybe he wants me back. That makes me feel lonely. And Kayla. I miss her too. We barely got to hang out this summer because she went on a mission trip to Africa. I could use her now. I could use a hug. I want to go back to my bunk and curl up with... as stupid as it sounds.. Banky. My little piece of blanket. The dumb little scrap of fleecey fabric always makes me feel better.

 

I hurry back to the bus and let myself in. Taylor is in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his laptop and a Starbucks cup. He doesn't say anything to me as I walk past and head to my bunk. I open up the curtain and let myself in. I lay down and start searching with my hand for my banky. I can't find it. It's not in it's usual spot, half tucked under my pillow. I sit up and lift my pillow up all the way. It's not there at all. My heart starts racing and I feel a little bit sick. I tear my blankets away, pushing them to the side, and there is still no sign of banky. I spend another five minutes frantically searching my bunk, checking the same spots over and over. It's gone. That bastard.