Nick stared after the departing boat. As it reached the end of the channel, Pete turned around and looked back…at the Lenore. Nick ducked his head out of sight. He didn’t think that Pete would have been able to see him anyway in the weak light, but even so, Nick hid.
So now what?
So now get a couple hours sleep, Nick told himself. In the morning, you can head out and if you catch up to them, fine! Otherwise, mind your own business. It would be stupid to try and follow them now anyway. It’s too dark, and you don’t know these waters well enough.
Nick dragged the duvet down to the bedroom and threw it on the bed. He swiveled his neck and stretched his arms out in front of him. He reached to pull the sweatshirt over his head, but he stopped.
Shit!
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Nick went out to the dining area. He switched on the light and looked at the charts that were spread out on the table. He picked up the one from yesterday and looked at the markings he’d made on it while the dock master’s assistant had been bringing him in.
Nick was glad he’d made the notes. It brought it all back to him and made him confident that he could find his way out on his own.
And was he going to do that?
Apparently, he was, he thought with a sigh. He went topside and undid the mooring ropes. He picked up the boat hook, a long pole that looked like a spear at one end but with a hook attached underneath. Nick used it to push the boat away from the dock. Then he took the charts and the book and went up to the upper deck. He started the engine and slowly moved the boat out into the channel, following the trail of the Sunset Voyager.
Nick was careful not to go too quickly…for two reasons. First, he wanted to make sure he was safe, that he didn’t run aground on a shoal. Secondly, he didn’t want to catch up to Pete and Jo. He didn’t want Pete to know that Nick was following him.
For the hundredth time, Nick wondered what the fuck he was doing. There were many different ways out of the Wilmington River back to the Waterway. And who even knew if Pete would go that way? If he was looking to avoid Nick, wouldn’t Pete backtrack, maybe hide out in one of the creeks?
You’re making a lot of assumptions here, Nick told himself. First of all, when did Pete become the bad guy? How do you know that he’s hiding from you? It’s possible that the guy just left early…to avoid the traffic that they had talked about last night.
But without lights?
Maybe he didn’t want to wake Jo.
Because she’s sick.
She’s physically sick and mentally sick.
She needs help, all right, but not from you, whispered Nick’s brain. She needs it from a shrink or something. If you keep having these paranoid fantasies, maybe you can go crazy too. Maybe you can have the couch next to hers in the psychiatrist’s office.
Turn back, Nick told himself. Or pull over and drop anchor until daylight. Do the smart thing for once.
It all made sense. It was all good advice.
But Nick pushed the throttle forward and headed up the channel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~It took Nick over an hour and a half to negotiate his way out of the Wilmington River and back to the Waterway. He moved very slowly and carefully, checking the chart often and squinting at every sign he passed. He wished he were doing this in daylight. There was some pretty scenery…some really big houses…old ones, not nouveau-riche crap. Nick knew he’d see enough of that when he got to Florida.
Nick passed the entrance to the Herb River. He looked up it, but he couldn’t see any boats. He couldn’t see much of anything in the early dawn light. The glare from his own lights made it more difficult to see anything further away.
It was light by the time he reached the Isle of Hope. Nick thought that was a great name. There were some really neat old houses along the shore and also a couple of yacht clubs. Nick figured there was some Old South money in this area.
Nick looked down at the chart. Next up was Moon River. The guidebook warned against entering this river. It was only about four feet deep and not very wide. There was no way the Lenore could go up there and probably not the Sunset Voyager either.
The guidebook gave several different warnings about how to navigate through Hell Gate. Like the name wasn’t enough, thought Nick. Jeez! Nick picked his way through carefully, staying away from the shoals. They were clearly marked, Nick saw, which made him feel relieved. He guessed other people hadn’t been as lucky and had grounded on them.
Nick wondered how many incidents it took to get a warning sign. It was like when you saw that they were putting up stoplights at an intersection. You wondered how many accidents had happened there, how many petitions had been signed, how many bouquets of flowers had been left to mark the spot of tragedy.
Oh, so now it’s tragedy, thought Nick. What are you doing to yourself? This was supposed to be two weeks of quiet contemplation, just you and nature or whatever. And you’re turning it into a three-act melodrama, complete with code words and hidden signals. And you’re ready to believe that someone is a bad guy just ‘cause he maybe didn’t want to spend the whole trip with you. And all the guy has done so far is to look after his girlfriend’s neurotic girlfriend.
I’m an idiot, thought Nick. I should make my way out onto the ocean and rev this baby up to the max and get well away from Pete and Jo and the whole stupid scenario. Who knew if he would run into them again, and if he did, who knew what new insane story Jo would have to tell?! Maybe she was desperate for attention or something.
And then a guilty thought slipped unbidden into Nick’s mind. Jo was a fan.
Nick shook his head to drive the thought away. Instead he concentrated on his charts. He was coming up on Bear Island. He could go either way to go around it. The water was deep enough on either side, according to the charts, so it was just a case of picking which way to go. Nick’s instinct was to go to the right. That seemed the natural thing to do. But for some reason, he decided not to. He swung the boat to the left.
She’s a fan.
Yes, Jo was a fan, and according to both her and Pete, Mickey was an even bigger one. Jo had proved that she wasn’t quite right in the head, what with the eating disorder and all, so maybe she was doing her best now to have a ‘fan encounter’ story to tell Mickey. It was a pretty whacked-out story, but then Jo was a pretty whacked-out girl.
And Nick knew that there was almost nothing some fans wouldn’t do to get a piece of the Boys. Not all of them, of course, not even most of them. Most of their fans just listened to the music and came to the concerts and bought t-shirts and stuff.
But when they got up close and personal, some of them got weird. Nick found it ironic that they had called the mini-tour the Up Close and Personal Tour. He was always saying that in interviews…that they wanted to get up close and personal with the fans. But he meant behind a wall of security guards and a big steel barrier.
Nick loved signing autographs and answering questions in fan conferences and stuff. He liked it when it was controlled. He didn’t like chance encounters. He wasn’t prepared for them, and you just never knew what people would do. Nick thought about the crazy questions that they asked in fan conferences in front of other people. And he knew that when they had you alone, they asked even weirder stuff.
And then they talked about it.
On the Internet.
The World Wide Fucking Web!
Nick and Kevin had begun checking the fan sites when they were on tour to get the reaction to the concerts. There was no point in reading the reviews. They were never good. American critics didn’t like them…never had, never would. So tuning in to LiveDaily or the Mature Fan Club gave them a better idea of how the concert had gone over with the people that counted.
Nick always checked out Not-Like-You because it had most of the stuff right on the front page. He didn’t have to go looking for it. It was amazingly up-to-date with pictures and announcements …and it was mostly about him. It had been set up during his solo outing, and it had been very supportive. Nick liked having a place to go to hear good things about himself. But it was there that he’d heard the most bizarre thing in his life.
Brian didn’t bother with the message boards. He didn’t care. He had other things to think about...the wife, the kid, God…
Howie didn’t even know what a message board was, thought Nick. He wasn’t much into computers. If he needed information, he’d pull out his cell phone.
AJ checked sometimes, but his ego was so fragile that he was afraid he might read something bad about himself, so he mostly just listened when Nick or Kevin gave the reports.
Kevin only went there to get fan reactions to the concerts and the music. He didn’t read any of the threads that were fan-generated, the Show Your Howie Love kind of thing.
Nick tried not to read those, but he couldn’t seem to stay away from them. It was like picking at a scab. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew it would make it worse, but you couldn’t help it. Nick remembered the weirdest day ever. It was the day he found out that the fans had given his penis a name.
Thor.
Like it was a separate person.
It had taken Nick a while to figure it out. He’d almost gone to the fellas to ask them but…Nick turned his eyes skyward…thank heaven he’d figured it out by himself first. He’d never have lived it down if he’d told the other guys.
It was on a thread about one of the first concerts. A fan on Not-Like-You had written that Thor was really dancing well tonight.
Who was Thor? wondered Nick.
He scrolled back up to the accompanying picture but could only see himself, AJ and Brian. He scrolled down again and was dismayed to read further mentions.
Thor was sure having a good time.
During Larger than Life, Nick grabbed Thor.
Who the hell was Thor?
Nick closed his eyes and went over the song in his head, picturing the choreography. Suddenly, he sat up straight and said, ‘Omigod’. He knew he was blushing, and he was glad he was alone. He quickly went back to the top and read each comment carefully, becoming more and more appalled with each new reference.
Nick hadn’t checked the Internet for nearly a week after that, and he’d stayed away from the fan comments for even longer. But he’d slowly gotten back into checking every so often. He didn’t know why.
And fan encounter stories?
They were even weirder. Because the fans kept saying what the Boys thought. Nick could understand a description of what they said and did, but how the hell could the fans believe they knew what the Boys were thinking?
The Boys had learned to be very careful about what they said because the poster put down every word that was said. Then the other posters jumped on board to analyze it word by word. It freaked Nick out, and every time he’d mention it to the fellas, Kevin would say, “Then stop reading the goddamn stuff!”
Nick looked down at the chart. He was coming up on Redbird Creek. He checked his watch. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, but he was hungry. He’d been up early…hell, he’d hardly been to bed. The guidebook said that the water was really deep and that around the first bend was a really pretty lagoon area with lots of birds and other wildlife.
Yeah, thought Nick, I’ll pull in there. That’s the kind of wildlife I want, birds and squirrels…not fans with cameras and cell phones. I’ll anchor the boat, make something to eat, enjoy the birds and have a nap. For a moment, he considered that maybe naps were becoming too much a part of his life. But he’d learned on tour, they’d all learned, you slept when you could. And he sure as hell hadn’t slept much last night. He’d been too busy being out of his freakin’ mind!
Nick negotiated the turn into the creek. He reminded himself that he wanted to be alone. His entire purpose on coming on this trip was to be alone. And that was what he was going to do. Pete and Jo could do whatever wherever, and Nick didn’t care. He hoped he never saw either of them again.
Nick moved the Lenore up the middle of the creek and around the bend. Ahead of him, lying at anchor, was the Sunset Voyager.
