Going Bovine

Going Bovine Page 121

“Hey, guys,” I say as we get close to a side-road escape route. “I don’t want to be a jerk, but we’ve gotta get on the road.”

“Oh hey, it’s cool,” Left Guy says. “We can make it from here. Can you just pop the trunk?”

With the engine still running, I get out and open the trunk. Right and Left Guy pull out their gear. Keith waits his turn, holding his jacket and a bag of snacks. He looks sleepy and content, and an image of him tromping through the desert weighs me down.

“Dude, you’re the best. Thanks, man.” He gives me a manly hug.

“You’re welcome,” I say. Before getting back in the car, I add, “You should definitely kick it on the beach as long as you can.”

I promise I’ll tell Gonzo they said goodbye, since he’s sleeping off his two beers. There’s the inevitable “Stay cool” and “Party hard” well wishes, even though those two things seem like a contradiction, and they hurry down the road asking everybody for a ride.

An hour later, Gonzo wakes up in desperate need of food. We opt for a twenty-four-hour breakfast joint. I go to wake Balder, but he’s no longer nestled in my Windbreaker. He’s not in the car at all. He’s just gone. We call his name. Nothing.

“Where could he be?” Gonzo asks, checking under the seat for the fortieth time.

“I don’t know. He was in the car when we started on the road this morning and …” I flash back to the traffic jam. The trunk hood up like a shield. Keith coming around from the front with his hands full and his face flushed and smug. Sonofabitch.

“What’s the matter?” Gonzo asks.

“Those ass**les kidnapped Balder.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

In Which Gonzo and I Make an Unscheduled Visit to the Party House

We’re back in that traffic jam that stretches a full ten miles out of Daytona. I keep scanning the horizon of heat squiggle and cars, looking for the guys, but no luck. The Caddy’s revving into the red zone. It smells like hot oil. I keep turning the engine on and off so it doesn’t overheat and die on us.

“We gave them a ride and they took Balder,” I grumble.

“Sucks,” Gonzo agrees. He’s got his orange little-girl sunglasses perched on top of his head like an extra pair of eyes.

“What a bunch of total punks.”

“Totally.” Gonzo’s smiling like a crazy man, and it’s annoying me.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

He slips the glasses back over his eyes. “Dude, we’re going to the Party House!”

The Caddy can’t take the heat, so we leave it by the side of the road about two miles from the Party House. The entire road is jam-packed with hotels.

“Can we just rent a room for the night? I need a shower,” Gonzo says. He sniffs his shirt and makes a face.

“You’ll live,” I say. We’re getting Balder back and hitting the road, no stops.

Gonzo sniffs my shirt and grabs his throat like he’s choking. “Dude, you reek!”

“I’m not that bad,” I argue.

“Not that bad? Fucking A, dude! Have you had your olfactory sense removed? Seriously, man, you are not going to see any action if you don’t clean up, you know?”

“I’m not looking for action. I’m looking for our yard gnome.”

Two girls in bikinis and navel rings pass us. One of the girls has a skateboard tattoo on her arm. Mr. Happy rises, unbidden, to say hello, like he’s the sheriff in this here town. When they move on, I give myself a quick sniff. Holy cow. I could kill someone with my BO.

“Did I warn you or what? Dude, just for the night. Come on. It’s the Party House!” He’s jumping up and down, pulling on my stink shirt and whining like a kid brother.

“Okay,” I say. “But it’ll have to be someplace dirt cheap.”

It takes some doing, but we find a no-frills bungalow motel. I hate using the credit card, but since we should be long gone before they can trace it, I figure we’re safe. And the shower feels amazing.

Gonzo bursts through the door. “Dude! You should see how many people are here! It’s awesome!”

The beach is swarming. Volleyball and Hacky Sack games have sprung up here and there. Girls sun themselves on beach towels with their bikini tops untied in the back. The Party House—a sprawling, ultramodern megamansion made of glass—shimmers on the horizon. They’ve built a couple of stages in and around the place. I think they’re filming something. Camera crews are everywhere, and we have to step over tons of wires.