Page 12 of Love on Tour
AS IT TURNED OUT, AUSTIN DIDcall Christine—at 3:00 a.m. She reached for her cell, shocked to see his number on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, hello. Yo. Is this, um, is this . . .”
“Christine?” she said.
“Yeah, Chrisshy.”
Christine sat up in bed and turned on her bedside light.
“Not Chrissy, Christine.”
“What?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“Don’t you live in the Brendwood Aperments?” She could hear his labored breathing and imagined him swaying. Drunk people tended to be heavy breathers.
“Brentwood Apartments? Yes, why?” She got out of bed and walked into the kitchen, getting a glass of water.
“I think I’m in one, and I need to get out, but I can’t drive ’cause I’ve had a couple drinks.”
“A couple?” She took a sip of water.
“Maybe more. I didn’t count.”
“Why can’t you stay where you are?”
“’Cause this chick I came home with is frucking crazy!”
“Frucking?”
“I tried to say freaking but it mingled. You don’t seem like the type of girl who appreciates the F-bomb at . . . at . . . hold on.” He made a rustling noise. “At three in the morning.”
“I’m not the type of girl who appreciates anything at three in the morning. Why do you think she’s crazy?”
“I tried to leave, and she stole my pants and locked them in a cabinet. I can’t find the key. She’s passed out, but I have no pants and can’t drive.” He exploded in a fit of giggles.
“Where are you?”
“In an apartment. Can you come get me?”
“Which apartment?”
“Hold on.” More rustling, a door opening, a door closing.
“Apartment 21B. Now I’m stuck outside without pants. I can’t get back in. The door is locked.”
He laughed, but it was muffled over the phone.
“Stop laughing. Someone will hear you.”
“Okay. Got it,” he said, continuing to chuckle.
“Do you at least have on underpants?”
“Yepper. You won’t see my boy if that’s your concern. But if you did, it’s pretty damn impressive, if I say so myself.”
