"Look! You're in the magazine!" Taylor said, pulling a Teen Beat off the shelf in a Claremore grocery mart and handing it to her. "See here on the cover? 'TAYLOR HANSON: Girlfriend or Not?'."
"Oh, yeah right," Randy laughed, pulling the magazine out of Taylor's hands. "Let's see who your rumored to be going out with now." She quickly skimmed through the magazine to the article on Hanson, and read down to a line where it mentioned females. "Okay. It says right here, 'The middle brother is still making the teenage girls sweat, although the youngest of the trio, Zachary, has stepped into the spotlight as being the reigning "sexy" one. Taylor says he's glad to pass the title down to his younger brother. He hints that he's got a girl back home that could possibly be his one and only...'" Her voice trailed off and she looked at Taylor quizzically. "What did you tell them?"
He shrugged and smiled smugly. "Just that there was something better than being chased by thousands of girls all over the world who were infatuated with you; having a girl that you loved waiting for you at home."
She smiled and bit her bottom lip. "That was so sweet of you..."
He shrugged. "Just being honest." He snagged the magazine from her and tucked it back into its designated spot on the shelf. "So are you gonna make my last night in Tulsa memorable?"
She shrugged and skipped down the aisle ahead of him. "I don't know yet."
"My mom said I could stay late," he added.
"That doesn't mean anything," she informed him. She grabbed a package of frozen cookie dough off of the shelf.
"Oh c'mon, Rand," he groaned. "Mom already knows we're doing it."
"Taylor!" she gasped, whirling to face him. Her cheeks were bright red and she was looking around to see if anyone was looking. "I can not believe you just said that," she told him through gritted teeth.
"What?" he asked, throwing his hands up in innocence, accidentally knocking over a display of Little Debbie snacks. He looked at it sheepishly. She burst out laughing.
"Serves you right, perve," she said. "Pick it up. I'm gonna go get some chips."
He sighed and bent down to pick up the mess he made. He watched her walk away, her stringy dishwater-colored hair swinging back and forth. This was the good life, he thought to himself. He was convinced that Randy was the last girl in the world who most guys would think of as being the most perfect girlfriend. Yet, she was. There was something about her casual demeanor and spunk that made him tingle all over. The way her icy blue eyes melted into soft pools when she looked at him; the freckle-spattered nose and the silver earrings that always dangled from her ears.
He put the last of the snack boxes on the display, and headed to the chip aisle to get her. He found her, holding a bag of Doritos and a bag of Funyuns, trying to decide which she preferred. She turned to him, extending her arms to display the chips. "Which one?"
"How did you know I was there?" he asked.
She shrugged, and repeated, "Which one?"
"The Doritos," he said. "Funyuns give you onion breath. It's really romantic to kiss someone who tastes like an onion."
"Who says we'll be kissing tonight?" she asked.
"Nobody," Taylor teased. "I'm gonna be kissing my other girlfriend. She's so sexy, with dark brown hair and loooong dark legs. And beautiful blue eyes that are to die for. Her name is Lia..."
She pushed him, grinning. "Don't go there, lover boy. Lia wouldn't give you the time of day. Anyhow, if you eat Funyuns and I eat Funyuns, then we'll both have onion breath so it won't matter will it?"
"That's puredee logic," he commented. "How'd you get so smart?"
"By avoiding you," she joked.
"You couldn't live without me," he protested; half-sarcastic, half-serious. Her eyes met his for a moment, and she looked at her sandaled feet. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a big hug. "I love you, Miranda."
"I love you, too, Jordan," she replied, looking up at him. He rolled his eyes.
"I hate that name."
"I hate Miranda," she retorted. "I don't know why you insist upon humiliating me by using it at every chance you get. You think being lovey dovey with me is going to make me forget that you're calling me that. I don't care how much you like the name, Taylor Hanson, I hate it. And I want you to..."
He beamed at her, waiting for her to realize that he wasn't listening to her lecture. Finally, she ran out of breath. "Okay?" He nodded, not bothering to wipe off the stupid grin. "Were you listening to me?"
"Beg your pardon?" he asked.
She groaned, and stomped her foot. "You are so annoying."
"Lalalalala," he sang at the top of his lungs, sticking his fingers in his ears. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
She grabbed his elbow, and dragged him along. "C'mon, you big baby. Let's get out of here before I have to take you to the bathroom and give you a spanking."
Immediately he began singing louder. She grunted her disapproval, and he quieted down considerably. In her ear, he whispered, "Would you really take me to the back and give me a spanking?"
A sly smile appeared on her lips. "No, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind."
"It would be so much fun," he moaned quietly.
"You know how I am about PDAs," she explained. "I think doing it in the restroom of a grocery mart classifies as a SERIOUS PDA. What if some little kid came in, needing to go pee?"
"We'd tell them we were doing the hokey pokey."
"Yeah, Taylor," she said sarcastically. "I'm positive that would work."
"Glad that you're finally seeing it my way," he said, pulling her towards the bathroom. "Now can we go do it?"
She jerked him hard back towards the counter. "Absolutely not. Wait 'til we get to the privacy of my own home, then we'll see."
"The evening is looking up after all," he muttered to the sky. He clasped his hangs together and knelt down. "HALELUJIA!"
She pulled him to his feet. "I remember now why I usually do the shopping before you come over..."
He snickered as she haughtily towed him behind her by the collar of his shirt.
"And I want you to know that Taylor is to be out of this house at 12 o'clock, sharp," Randy's father went on. Randy was nodding.
"Of course, Daddy," she said, pushing him and her mother towards the door.
"Taylor, no hanky panky," he said over his daughter's head. Taylor nodded solemnly. Mitch Wakes, Randy's father, was not a force to be reckoned with. He was a bear of a man; towering over Taylor at 6'5. He had a gut and broad shoulders that demanded that everyone look up and notice his presence. His blond hair rippled in waves back over his head.
Most people referred to him as Coach. The burly man had played football for college, and for a little while professionally until his petite wife, Belinda, talked him into settling down. He had begun coaching at East Tulsa High shortly thereafter, and was considered the best coach in Tulsa, if not the best in the entire state. Claremore had been the Wakes' locale for the past 15 years, the 30-minute drive to work not bothering Coach Wakes in the least. Taylor knew several kids who went to ETH, and who had been students under Coach. They said he was tough and very scary when he was angry, and naturally Taylor believed them. He tried to do his best to stay on his potential father-in-law's good side.
"Have fun!" Belinda called over her shoulder. Randy shut the door behind them, and leaned back against it in relief.
"My dad is so over-protective," she said.
Taylor laughed. "Yeah. He's very worried about leaving you with a dangerous guy like myself."
"You? Dangerous?" She strode to the couch and flopped down lazily on the couch next to him. "You couldn't hurt a fly. Much less me."
"Why would I want to hurt you, though?" Taylor asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She smiled.
"I dunno. You'd better not," she warned. "'Cos if you do, you know I'll hurt you back."
"I know," Taylor said, wincing at the memory of when he'd once told her that he had kissed another girl behind her back. He'd only been going out with Randy for a couple of months, but he quickly realized that he'd made a mistake. He'd told her Randy all about the other girl, and about how it was a one-time thing; he'd never do it again, because he didn't want to lose her. Her face had been full of hurt and pain. Then suddenly her fist had connected with his nose, and he'd fallen back on his butt. He had become very aware of blood coming out of his nose. She had said, "If you ever, ever hurt me like that again, Taylor, I swear to God I will do a lot more to you than punch you in the nose." After that, she got him a cold wash cloth and helped tend his wound.
She snuggled now into his chest. "I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow."
"I can't either," he whispered.
"I don't know what I'll do without you," she murmured. He kissed her hair, which smelled like strawberries.
"You'll live," he promised. "I'll be back in 2 months to visit."
She was silent, and hugged him tighter. It was moments like these - moments before he left again or moments when he talked about his career taking him miles away or moments when he spoke of how much he wished he could take her with him everywhere - that made her wish she could just melt right into him. She could never get close enough to him. She pressed her body against him, and kissed his hand which had reached up to stroke her cheek.
"I was thinking," he said, clearing his throat.
"That's something new," she teased.
"Randy," he groaned. "Can't we be serious for once?"
She sighed and straightened, pulling herself from her arms. "Okay, okay. What?"
"Next fall, after the tour ends, you'll be finished with high school," he said. "You'll be in college in Ohio, doing your majorette thing. You and I both know they're giving you the scholarship."
"Yeah," she said, a proud smile creeping onto her face. "So?"
"I'm going to move to Ohio," he said.
"Really?" she asked, looking astonished.
"Yeah," he replied. "That is, as long as you want me to."
"I do," she said, sitting back on her knees. "I was hoping you'd say you would. What about the music?"
"I'll put my career on hold for a year," he explained. "I've talked to Dad and Mom about it, and they agree that spending a year at college will be good for me. I guess then I'll hit the studio again after my freshman year and I'll spend a year on the road. I'll alternate years, you know?"
"That's great!" she exclaimed. "Your parents are cool with it?"
He shrugged. "They're supportive of any and all learning experiences. They were kind of disappointed, I think, that I didn't enroll in some college classes this year."
"You're smart," she said. "Of course they were disappointed."
He sighed, and pulled her back down into his lap. "When I go to Ohio, I want to know if you'll...if you will..."
"What?" Randy asked.
"Will you marry me there?"
Randy grinned. "You're crazy!" she laughed. "Absolutely crazy!" She turned around to face him. She cupped her hands around his face and kissed him. "But I love you anyway. Do you want to know why?"
"Why?" he asked, bafflement written on every line of his face.
"Because I can't help myself," she admitted. "And even though I know I am incredibly stupid to say it, yes. Yes, of course I will marry you in Ohio."
He grinned at her. "You will?"
"No, Taylor, I'm lying to you," she said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes. "I won't ever marry a scumbag, rock-n-roll junkie like you."
He kissed her. "Thank you."
"For what?" she asked.
"For saying yes," he said.
"Well, as long as we invite our parents," she said. "If we got married without them there, we probably wouldn't live to see our first anniversary."
He laughed. "Right-o."
"And when you go back on the road, I'll have to stay in school. Because if I didn't, my parents would make you into a widower before your 21st birthday," she told him.
"That would be sad," he replied. "Life without you wouldn't be worth living."
"I know how you feel," she said, pulling him closer to her. "I know how you feel."
He had to wonder as he sat in the airport, why his mother was being so quiet. She was staring calmly at the empty seat ahead of her, but her face was pulled taught. She was nestled into her brown overcoat, looking lonely and afraid. He sat down in the chair next to her, the broken plastic nipping the back of his leg through his jeans. "Hey," he murmured. Her watery blue eyes looked up at him. She smiled.
"Hey, Taylor," she said in a raspy voice.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "Are you?"
"Yeah," he responded.
"Did you and Randy have a good time last night?" she asked, not pryingly.
Taylor grinned. "Of course."
She rolled her eyes. "What I wouldn't give to be young again. Although, I have to say my old age has brought me a lot of joy. You're one of the eight big ones."
"Eight?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "You, Isaac, Zac, Jessie, Ave, Mac, Zoe, and your dad."
"Dad," Taylor echoed. "I forgot about him."
She chuckled. "I wish I could."
"Oh, Mom," Taylor said, rolling his eyes. "You know you love him."
"More than anything I have except for you kids," she admitted. Her eyes suddenly were far away. "Taylor, please be careful tomorrow night at that concert, okay?"
His brow creased. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes focused on him. "Watch out for yourself. And your brothers."
"I will," he said. "Are you okay?"
"Just worried," she said. "We haven't done this in a while, and last night I had this horrible nightmare."
"What do you mean?" Taylor asked.
"It was just...you and Isaac and Zac were standing on a balcony talking and laughing. Everything suddenly turned black. You were sitting up on the rail. I remember calling up to you to get down, but you just turned and waved. Then, the railing broke and you were falling and falling. Isaac reached down to catch you and he had you for a minute. Zac grabbed your other hand. Then the whole balcony crumbled and all three of you were falling. Zac and Isaac somehow managed to grab on to ledges of windows as they dropped, but you..."
"Mom, calm down," Taylor said, hugging her. "It's okay. It was just a dream."
"It was so real," she confessed. "I woke up, and your father was shaking me and yelling at me to wake up. He told me I was screaming out your name and shaking all over."
He looked over his mother's shoulder at his dad, who was watching them and biting his bottom lip. He appeared to be very worried. "Di," he whispered. "Diana, sweetheart."
She let loose of Taylor and turned to her husband. Taylor sat, bewildered. "Hey, Tay," Zac whispered. "What was that all about?"
Taylor shrugged in response. "I have absolutely no idea..."
He sat back, and listened to the sound of his computer connecting to the internet. He looked at Avery sitting in the seat next to him, fast asleep. Even better, he thought. He could e-mail Randy a nice, long letter without Ms. Nosy looking over his shoulder. He was so glad that airplanes had internet hookups. They were wonderful conveniences. It made living his life much easier, considering that he was on a plane 90% of the time.
He went through his e-mail, deleting the trash and checking only necessary. There was an e-mail for Randy, telling him about how her day had been. She'd gone shopping and gotten a dress to wear to the formal next Saturday. She was going with a group of friends who, like her, didn't have dates. He again felt the tiniest pang of guilt for not being there to go with her, but quickly pushed his guilt aside when he remembered her saying, "This is your once-in-a-lifetime chance. Who knows when it will disappear? There will be hundreds of other dances in the future..." He replied, telling her about the boring plane ride and promising yet again to write her every day he was gone. He told her he missed her and loved her until "miss you" and "love you" practically filled the screen.
The next e-mail was one from their manager. It was a copy of the schedule for the following month. Taylor frowned when he saw that December twelfth was a full day. He wouldn't have any time to write Randy, he was pretty sure. He quickly typed up an e-mail, which was what he would have considered sentimental dribble if the letter hadn't been for Randy. When he was finished he read over it, vaguely surprised by how fatalistic he sounded. How final. He shook the thought from his head. Today was somehow unsettling; disturbing. He clicked on the SEND LATER icon on the right-hand side of the screen. A form popped up, requesting the date and time of send. He filled it out, then clicked send. A pop-up came up and told him that his message was in the holding bin. Taylor closed out the message, as well as AOL, feeling exhausted and uneasy. He thought he might ought to follow Avery's example and take a little nap before they got to Spokane.