Page 37 of Love on Tour
Christine was always shocked by the bigger-than-life bronze statue of naked people happily dancing on the circle at Music Row. Children rode past there. Naked breasts, vaginas, and penises were on display for all to see.
“Okay, I have to go get him,” Christine said, crawling out of bed.
“Is Austin dancing naked with them?” Julianna asked.
“God, I hope not,” Christine said.
“God, I hope so. I’ll meet you there,” Julianna said.
“No. Do not show up. Go back to bed.”
“No way in hell I’m missing this. See you at the naked people.” Julianna hung up before Christine could protest further.
Christine threw on her sweats and an oversized T-shirt and darted out the door. The drive that took nearly an hour in rush-hour traffic only took fifteen minutes at midnight. She parked her car on the side of the street and was running to the center of the circle when Julianna pulled up. Together they found Austin passed out underneath the sculpture. His left shoe was off, his white T-shirt was stained with dirt, drool fell from the side of his mouth, and he snored—loudly.
Julianna busted up.
“What is so funny?”
“He’s right under a huge naked penis. That was his last visual before he passed out.”
“And there he is. Heartthrob to tens of thousands of women.” Christine shook her head.
“I’d still do him,” Julianna said.
Christine opened her mouth to say something and changed her mind. Why bother? Stars had a greater appeal than mere humans. She stooped down next to Austin and shook him.
No response.
“Austin? Wake up. It’s Christine.”
Nothing.
“Julianna, let’s try to lift him.”
“Okay.” Julianna reached down for his feet as Christine lifted his shoulders.
He barely budged.
“He’s out cold,” Christine said.
“Ya think?”
Another car pulled up and parked at the circle. The driver threw on the flashers and stepped out. Christine’s stomach clenched as she recognized Matt. Here she stood in oversized sweats, a baggy T-shirt, and no makeup. Julianna, of course, looked like she’d just stepped out of Victoria’s Secret, still wearing her tight pink sweatpants and a black tank top. Her hair was in a sloppy bun with just enough tendrils dropping down to shape her beautiful face.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Christine said.
“Why?” Julianna asked.
Before Christine could answer, Matt walked up. “He called you, too?” he asked.
“Yep. I’m glad you’re here, though. We can’t lift him. He’s dead weight,” Christine said.
Matt looked at Julianna and then Christine. “And she’s here why?”
“Moral support?” Christine said, more as a question.
“There’s nothing moral about this,” Matt said with a derisive snort.
