It is hours later now and we are in the desert in Arizona.
“Two more miles on this road,” Jamie-boy says, reading from a computer printout. “And then one more left and then it should be right there on our right.” We keep driving and a few minutes later, we see a long line of people standing on the side of the road, next to a long line of cars pulled off on the shoulder.
“Looks like this must be it,” Sean says.
Jamie-girl claps her hands together. “Yeee!”
Sean parks his car at the end of the row and then we all get out, the Jamies dragging their giant duffel bag behind them.
“You can just leave that in the car,” Sean says. “I mean, you don’t want to carry it around for the whole show do you?”
“Ah,” Jamie-boy says. “But we do!” He puts the bag down on the dusty ground, bends over, and unzips it halfway. He removes two black T-shirts, hands one to Jamie-girl. They put them on, then turn around. Monster Hands Monstrosity Tour Staff is silk-screened in green on the back.
“Okay, so they’re not the most professional T-shirts, but they get the job done,” Jamie-girl says, winking. “We make them ourselves, you know!”
Jamie-boy hoists the bag back up onto his shoulder and pats it like it’s his pet.
“Thanks for the ride, guys,” Jamie-girl says. She gets next to the bag, unzips a side pocket, and removes a piece of fabric, which she unfolds and pins to the side of the duffel bag. Official Monster Hands Merch is silk-screened on it in the same green ink. “And for the hotel room and everything.”
“But wait!” I say. I hear the franticness rising in my voice. Reality is suddenly catching up with me, and it does not look good. “What about the concert and you helping us get in and everything? What about us meeting the band?”
“Oh, yeah, that,” Jamie-girl says. She frowns for a second. “Well, I mean, you’ll be fine. Just buy a ticket. I’m sure there’s some left, they have a cult following but they hardly ever sell out a show. The ticket line’s right there.” She motions with her head. “As for meeting the band, well, you’re on your own with that one, sweetie. We’ve been trying to meet the band for years and the closest we’ve ever gotten is the time their manager kicked us out of their show for selling unofficial merchandise.” Then she grins. “Anyway, we gotta run, this bag o’ Monsty isn’t going to sell itself! Oh, and don’t worry about us getting back, we’ll figure it out. As you might have noticed, we’re really quite resourceful!” Jamie-boy gives me a final up-down look and then the two of them walk off, calling “Official Monster Hands T-shirts, twenty-five dollars! Official posters of the new Monster Hands album cover, fifteen dollars! Monster Hands monster hands, twenty dollars! Official bottles of Monster Hands monster water, five dollars.”
And Sean and I are both left standing there in the warm Arizona sunset staring at their backs, watching them go.
“Whoa,” Sean says. “What just happened there?” But he’s more talking to himself than to me. “I think we’ve just been Jamie’d.”
We stand at the end of the line, behind a girl in black flip-flops, a denim miniskirt, and a gray T-shirt with the neck cutout that keeps drifting down exposing one smooth tan shoulder. She has a pair of large gray rubber hands strapped over her real ones like gloves.
“I have no idea,” I say. “I really have no idea.” The girl in front of us turns around, she’s beautiful—heart-shaped face, perfectly arched eyebrows, long dark hair. When she sees Sean, she smiles a big gorgeous grin. “You know those guys?” She motions with her monster hands to where Jamie and Jamie are working their way down the line.
“Not really,” Sean says. “Although we did just spend the last like thirty-six hours with them.”
“Oh my, my, my,” the girl glances at me, then back at Sean, then glances at me again. She’s trying to figure out if I’m his girlfriend. “Ah yes, the Creepy-Jamies infamous in the Monsty scene for being total scammers and also…being rather, um, open about their private activities. Did you happen to notice that during your thirty-six hours of Jamie?”
Sean nods. “We’ve been treated to some tripleX live Jamie-on-Jamie action.”
The girl reaches out her monster hands and puts her hand on his shoulder. “Oh, you poor dears,” she says. But she’s looking only at him.
I feel a hot prickle of jealousy creeping up the back of my neck. A warm wind blows and ruffles her silky hair.
“So where are you guys from?” the girl asks.