Know What You Mean

Dan took a deep breath and stepped off the bus. They were almost home, just on the outskirts of the city. Once they were dropped off at the house, Captain Lyle had to drive on, so Kevin agreed to stop at the nearest gas station so Captain Lyle could get some coffee.


Dan was grateful for the chance to stretch his legs. One week - it was hard to imagine that one week ago they’d been in Germany, that they’d watched Carolyn and John kill a whole slew of men who were trying to kidnap Bob for...something. It ran in the news as some sort of earthquake, but Dan could still remember the explosions, the screaming, the terror.


The broken-hearted look on his brother’s face as Carolyn walked away.

Kevin bought it too easily, that after all these years John was done with the drama that went down every tour and he was going to take his daughter and walk away. They’d finished out the tour short one roadie and one translator.

The misery that pervaded the bus was stifling. Shelley knew about Carolyn and Bob, but somehow Kevin had been oblivious the entire time, and so he was completely unsympathetic about the fact that she was gone. Dan and his brothers barely spoke to each other. Whenever they made eye contact they remembered - Dan clutching a gun, too terrified to shoot; Clay and Bob clinging desperately to each other and trying to navigate the streets of Munich; Scott running alongside Carolyn, blood-spattered and carrying a machine gun. It was just easier not to talk.

Dan shuffled toward the convenience store with the company card to pay for the gas. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He wanted to lie down on his own bed and sleep without the sound of screaming girls ringing in his ears.

Someone bumped into him. Dan jumped back, automatically bringing his fists up into a fighting stance, but then he saw that the person was just another boy his age, wearing a uniform shirt. A gas station employee, then.

Dan scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The boy shrugged, smiled. “’S’all right. You look pretty beat.”

“I don’t even know what time it is,” Dan confessed.

“Pretty late,” the boy said. Then his brow furrowed, and Dan knew it was coming moments before it happened.

“Hey.” The boy grinned. “You’re Dan Summers.”

“Yeah. I am.”

“I really dig your music.” The boy offered a hand. “I’m Joey.”

Dan shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Joey.”

“Don’t worry,” Joey said. “I won’t alert the girls on shift.”

“Thanks,” Dan said. “My brothers and I would really appreciate that.”

Joey laughed. “I don’t know how you can stand the screaming.”

“Some days it’s a wonder I can stand the girls,” Dan muttered, and then his throat closed. No. He hadn’t just admitted that aloud.

But Joey laughed again. “I know what you mean.”

(500 words - more Joey, for Madness)