"That sounds like fun." Ben agreed from the other end.
"Yeah, but it just doesn't seem the same without the guys there... you know?"
"Yeah." he said with a nod, though she couldn’t see him. He missed the guys too.
"... and Kelly wouldn't be going either. She's got some shit to do, but she refuses to tell me what. She can be so annoying sometimes." Jen continued.
"Especially post-orthodontal appointment." Ben added, twirling the phone cord around his finger. "When does Dave come back anyway?" he asked.
"September something. Like thirteenth." Jen replied, not knowing if she would be able to live that long without him.
"Oh yeah." Ben said, remembering. "So after we start school?" he asked.
"Yeah." she said. "Ugh... don't talk about school. We only have about a month and two weeks until we have to get back into the daily grind."
"Don't remind me." Ben whined.
"I want time to pass by so I can see the guys, but I also want it to go as slow as possible to savor my summer. I wish I could have both." she said with a sad sigh.
* * *
"Damnit Dave!" Scott exclaimed. "You keep screwing that up! We changed it, remember?"
"Shut up Scott! Quit acting like you're some kinda fucking God!" Dave exclaimed, getting angry. That was the fifth time Scott had yelled at him and he was loosing his patience.
"I need to take a break guys." Clint informed them, putting his bass on it's stand and sitting down on the edge of the stage. He was still feeling very ill, but didn't want to loose his cool. He didn't want his father to have to cancel their first concert of their tour. He had barely made it through the interview that morning, and hadn't the slightest clue how he would make it through a concert with his temperate over a hundred, but at least he wasn't delirious.
"You okay Clint?" Scott asked, totally brushing Dave's snide comment off his back. He sat down next to Clint and noticed he was sweating slightly.
"I'm fine, just kinda tired." Clint lied.
The truth was, he was wide awake, he just didn't want to let his brothers know that he felt like gum on the bottom of a pair of old sneakers. He felt like he would pass out any second.
"You're kinda pale Clint, you sure you're okay?" Scott continued.
"Did I just say I was fine? Or was I talking to myself?" Clint demanded, irritated.
"Sooooorry." Scott said, backing off. He returned his attention to the soundcheck at hand. "Let's try that last part again, this time with no mistakes." he said, looking at Dave.
Dave kindly flipped his eldest brother they bird before adjusting some of the dials on his keyboard.
Clint reluctantly got to his feet and went to his bass, picking it up and taking a deep breath before nodding at Scott to signal he was ready.
"Count it off Bob." Scott directed.
"One, two, three, four..." Bob counted, hitting his drumsticks together with each number.
"Misery, is what I feel, when you're not around, so I can heal. Misery, is what I feel, is what I feeeeeeeel." they all sang in harmony.
Clint tried to focus on the words he was singing but suddenly felt lightheaded...
* * *
"Damnit!" Scott cursed, banging his fist on the wall. "First concert of the tour and we have to cancel it. Why? Because my favorite brother Clint can't even stay on his damn feet for the chorus of one song!"
"You are such a selfish ass hole!" Bob accused, growing angry. "It's not Clint's fault he's sick! He didn't get sick on purpose Scott. No one's that stupid."
"All you care about is yourself Scott!" Dave exclaimed, feeling like punching his oldest brother in the nose. "Clint tried to shrug it off, even though he was really sick, but you don't even recognize that! You only care about yourself!!!" he yelled.
"Shut up!" Scott snapped. "Just shut the hell up!"
"You shut up jerk!" Bob snapped. "You're the one being a prick."
"All of you shut up!" Clint exclaimed from his spot on the hospital bed. "I don't even want to hear it."
"Sorry." Bob apologized, sitting down on the bed next to him.
"Yeah. Sorry." Dave said, glaring at Scott.
"Sorry, whatever." Scott sighed. "I'm just pissed, you know I don't mean what I say."
"It's not like we even have to cancel the concert Scott. It's still early. We can get in a few hours of practice and be fine."
"No Clint." Bob said firmly. "That's what got you in here in the first place." he reminded him.
"But they got my temperature down guys, I'm fine." Clint insisted.
"Don't do it just for Scott. He'll live without performing tonight... unless of course he gets on my nerves, than I can't say he'll definitely live." Dave said with a menacing snicker.
"Yeah, how about I kick your hick-ass right now?!" Scott threatened.
"Agh! Shut Up!!!" Clint exclaimed. "I wouldn't be doing it just for Scott! I would be doing it for me! I want to perform as much as you guys do!" he pointed out. "I'll be okay, I feel fine now."
"You're lying down in a hospital bed Clint. Of course you feel fine. Can you even stand up?" Bob asked.
"I'm fine." Clint said firmly. "Where's Dad?"
"Filling out your release forms." Dave said.
"Get me my pants." Clint instructed, reaching for a heap of his clothes that was sitting on the chair.
"Get them yourself." Scott barked, but tossed the heap at his brother anyway.
"You're in a pissy mood." Bob said.
"Gee, I wonder why." Scott said sarcastically.
Clint just rolled his eyes, pulling his pants on. He took off the hospital gown and pulled his shirt over his head.
"And just so you know Scott, Clint would never be such an ass hole to you if you were sick. None of us would." Dave pointed out, giving his eldest brother a disgusted look.
"I said I was fucking sorry! Get over it!" Scott shouted.
"Watch the language." Frank warned, entering the hospital room. He sat down on the bed next to Clint and felt his forehead.
"Don't YOU even talk to me." Scott snapped, pacing back and forth to work off some of his anger.
"Look Scott, I don't care what kind of grudge you have against me, or how mad at me you are; I am still your father and I will get the respect a father is supposed to get." his father clarified.
"Yeah, but you lost the right to that respect when you punched my fucking face!" Scott exploded.
Frank was taken aback, as were the triplets. "I want to talk to you in private Scott." he said.
The triplets took that as an indirect request for them to get out of the room.
Scott just turned and faced the wall, running his fingers harshly through his hair.
"No, you boys stay. Scott and I will go. Meet us out front." Frank directed. "We’re going to bring the car around."
Scott sighed angrily, knowing he was going to have to go with his father, regardless of how angry he was. He reluctantly followed him out of the room.
"What an ass." Dave said, shaking his head. "He gets on my damned nerves."
"He's such a brat sometimes." Clint agreed, mimicking Dave and shaking his head as he put on his shoes.
"He really is." Bob agreed. "And Clint, if you don't want to perform tonight, you don't have to. We're not trying to force you into anything."
"I know you guys." Clint said. "But I really want to perform, I really do. And I know I'll be able to make it through. I'm fine."
"Okay..." Bob said slowly, not sure whether to believe him or not.
* * *
"Scott, I want to start with saying that I'm sorry about what happened the other night." Frank said as he and his eldest started their trek for the car. "You know I have never believed in being physical with the four of you. I honestly don't know what came over me." he said, glancing at Scott who walked stoically beside him. He didn't feel like listening to anything his father had to say.
"And Scott, I love you more than anything," Frank continued. "I would never, ever do anything to deliberately hurt you."
Scott snorted a laugh. "Then why did you?" he asked as they approached the rental BMW. Scott got into the passengers seat and stared straight ahead, frowning.
Frank did not start the ignition. He just sat, staring straight ahead. "Have you ever said or done something and it was as if you were outside your body, watching yourself, but not realizing it was you?"
Scott didn't say anything. He knew exactly what his father was saying, but didn't say anything to translate this.
"And you do things that you swear you'd never do if you had control." Frank continued. "It was like that Scott. I lost control. I've never lost control like that before, but I did and I'm so sorry. I love you Scott."
Scott continued to stare straight ahead. He didn't feel like speaking. He was too angry to speak, he was too afraid to speak. He knew that if he said something, he might start to cry. The stress was too much; fighting with his father, trying to remain faithful to his girlfriend, trying to tell his girlfriend he loved her... there were too many things on his mind and he wanted nothing more than to embrace his father and say he was sorry for being to stubborn, but pride couldn't be forgotten.
Frank sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere and turned the ignition. He started towards the front of the hospital.
"I love you too Dad." Scott blurted out, not being able to take it anymore. "And I am so sorry... I shouldn't have said all those things to provoke you... it was all my fault. Everything is my fault. I'm too much of a coward to be in control of my own actions... I..." Frank cut him off.
"Don't say that Scott!" Frank exclaimed. "You are a very smart guy with a lot of things going for you. You are one of the strongest people I know Scott, don't you forget that. We both made mistakes that night, let's just forget about it, put it behind us." he said, putting a hand on Scott's arm.
Scott just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Frank put the car in park when he pulled up in front of the hospital. The triplets hadn't come out yet. He turned in his seat to Scott and hugged him. Scott hugged him back without reluctance.
* * *
"These tears on my face, are left for you." Scott said, unbuttoning the last button of his shirt. "I wish that I could hold you..." he slid his hand up his thigh. "Touch you..." higher... "Feel you-ou." His hand reached his guitar and he struck another riff.
Clint strummed his bass, his fingers seeming to know exactly where to go as if it were second nature. He had lied when he said he was feeling fine. He was still a bit weak, and under the harsh strobe lights, he was becoming lightheaded. He just hoped he'd be able to make it through the concert without his knees giving.
Dave looked over at Scott in disgust. The way he was flaunting his body, practically having sex with his guitar... it was irritating. Scott thought he was the best looking guy in the world; the pouty lips, beautiful hair, nice body... he had everything. He even had the girl Dave wanted. All of the girls thought Scott was the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth, Dave was green with envy. But that would all change...
* * *
"That was great you guys!" Bob exclaimed, hocked up on sugar from the three Cokes he had downed as soon as the concert had finished.
The boys were all lounging in the dressing room.
"I mean, I was like 'Oh my God, we haven't done a concert in ages', but we pulled it off! No mistakes at all!" he continued, walking back and forth in the middle of the floor.
"Bob! Take a chill pill. Sit your ass down before you burst a blood vessel." Dave laughed.
"Sorry!" Bob giggled, sitting down on the couch next to Clint. He instantaneously started to bob his leg up and down to burn some of the energy.
"Bob! Stop!" Clint whined, closing his eyes. He was looking pale again.
"You okay Clint?" Scott asked.
"Oh, now you show concern." Dave said dryly.
"Shut up." Scott snapped. "Do you want something to drink from the machine Clint?" he asked.
"Could you get me a Coke?" Clint requested.
"Sure thing." Scott said with a smile.
"You can lay on me Clint if you want." Bob said sweetly with a warm smile.
Clint grinned at his brother's show of affection and rested his head down on Bob's lap, closing his eyes.
"Anyone else want some soda? Besides Bob who's already bouncing off the damn walls." Scott asked, an indirect way of asking Dave.
"No thank you." Dave said dryly.
"Suit yourself." Scott said with a shrug, leaving the room and heading down the hall to the soda machine.
He looked down at the dials. There was Coke, Fanta, Sprite, and some other drinks he didn't recognize. He decided to get a Coke for himself as well. He took two dollars out of his wallet and inserted the first into the machine. It came back out. Scott pressed it down on his pants and smoothed it out. He inserted it for a second time. Yet again, it was discharged from the machine.
"Damnit!" he cursed, examining the bill.
It was as crisp as a freshly ironed work shirt, he couldn't understand why the machine wasn't accepting it.
Scott suddenly became aware of the presence of someone else beside him. He whirled around to see a teenage girl leaning against the machine with a coy smile on her lips.
She was medium height with shoulder length brown hair and matching eyes. She was looking very attractive, dressed in all black and with a touch of light pink lipstick.
The girl asked him if he needed help in German.
Scott told her he wasn't very fluent in German in her language.
"I say, do you need help?" she asked in broken English, giving him a sexy and flirtatious grin.
"Uh... the machine's not taking my dollar." he told her, trying to divert his eyes from her beautiful cleavage.
"Well, I Elizabeth, at your service." she informed him with a grin.
Scott smiled. "I'm Scott, and thank you very much." he joked.
Elizabeth giggled. "Can I see?" she asked, holding her hand out to see his dollar.
Scott handed the bill to her.
She laughed loudly, then said something to him in her language.
"Umm... pardon me?" he asked, only catching bits and pieces of what she had said. His German was a bit rusty.
"You see this?" she asked, pointing to the dollar before handing it back to him. Scott took it and looked at it, trying to see what was wrong with it. "That is Canadian dollar." she said. "This not Canadia, this Germany. That is machine German." she explained.
Scott paused for a moment before smacking himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand. "I am so stupid!" he laughed.
"No you not." she insisted, stepping closer. "You very well musician. You very handsome too..."
Scott looked at her with wide eyes. She was coming on to him. "Well... you're not so bad yourself..." he trailed off, wanting nothing more than to back her up against the machine and smother her with his own body. He could feel the nice sized erection forming in his pants as she brushed her hand over his cheek.
"And you have beautiful voice." she continued.
"Why thank you..." he said with his signature smile.
She ran her fingers down his stomach. "And..." her hand grazed the bulge in his pants. "You have very large..." she tried to remember how to say penis in English. She settled with the German way.
Though Scott wasn't as fluent in German as he used to be, he knew exactly what she had said. "Well... I try..." he said arrogantly.
She smiled, leaning closer to him, her lips narrowing in to his.
Scott suddenly yanked back. "I have to go!" he said quickly, running in a full sprint down the hallway, back to his dressing room. She had tried to make him eat the apple, but he had succeeded in resisting. He had never been so proud in his life.
* * *
"What happened to you?" Dave asked curiously, noticing his brother panting for breath and leaning against the door.
Clint, who had fallen asleep with his head on Bob's lap, opened his eyes groggily. "Did you get my Coke?" he asked weakly, still looking pale.
"Couldn't. I didn't have any German money things..." Scott said.
"German Marks?" Bob supplied. "I have some." he said.
"No!" Scott said. "I can't go back out there."
"What? Is there a velociraptor chasing you? They can open doors you know." Bob said, still talking a mile a minute.
"Read a book for a change. All those damn movies you watch are watering your brain." Scott said, shaking his head. "I just can't go out there."
"Jurassic Park is also a book, and a damn good one too." Bob stated, defensively.
"Get Dad." Clint directed, reaching for the trash can. Within seconds, he had successfully filled it with the contents of his stomach.
"Sick!" Bob exclaimed.
Dave got to his feet to go retrieve his father. Clint was sick, really sick. He had somehow known that his brother shouldn't have performed the concert that night.
* * *
"Hey!" Timber exclaimed, hopping up from her perch on the Tembolli front porch.
Kelly looked up at her in surprise, getting two shopping bags from the same store out of the backseat of her mother’s mini van.
"Hi Mrs. Tembolli." Timber greeted her mother.
"Hey honey." Rona said with a small wave. "I'm going to head inside, I'll see you later." she said with a friendly smile, heading towards the side door.
Timber waved back, smiling pleasantly. "What's in the bag?" she asked Kelly curiously.
"Nothing!" Kelly exclaimed, defensively.
Timber studied the side of the bag. "Pacific Sunwear?" she asked. "When did you start shopping there? I always thought you were partial to the Gap." she joked.
"Well things change Timber." Kelly huffed, turning and heading towards the side door.
"What'd ya buy?" Timber asked playfully, following her friend.
"None of your business." Kelly snapped.
"What's up with you?" Timber asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"Look. I'm not really in the mood to hang out right now." Kelly told her with a sigh. "But I'll see you later." she said.
Timber rolled her eyes. "Fine. By Kel." she said, turning and starting down the driveway for the street. Her friend was obviously hiding something and Timber was going to find out what it was...
* * *
"Clint..." Bob sang, peeking his head into his brother's room.
Clint stirred in his sleep.
Bob crept inside the hospital room, gently flicking on the light. "Clint..." he sang again, in a low voice as he arrived at his identical brother's bedside.
Clint opened an eye. "What?" he asked weakly.
"Chicken Butt." Bob said, plopping down on the bed next to him. "What's up with you Bro?" he asked.
"I feel like shit." Clint mumbled, rolling over on his side. His hand accidentally tugged on the IV tube that was going into the back of it and he winced in pain. "I'm being fed through a tube... I ache, I'm weak... this sucks."
"Yeah, well you have a pretty bad case of whatever you've got." Bob stated.
"The flu Bob, you can say it. It's the flu." Clint said, closing his eyes again.
"It is not the flu Clint! You have some sort of food poisoning." Bob clarified.
"No I don’t. It was some long word." Clint stated. "They all mean the flu anyway."
Bob laughed. "You should check out the candy Dave got in the gift shop! It was so good... " he said, changing the subject.
"I wish I could have some." Clint said, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah... well.. I'll save you some for when you get better." Bob vowed.
"Thanks."
"Hey guys..." Scott said, peeking his head into the room. "Where's my brother who has a knack for passing out?" he joked.
Clint opened his eyes slowly and looked up at Bob. "I see he had some of the candy too." he stated with a soft grin.
Bob nodded.
"Haha, you have to stay here overnight, Clint." Scott taunted. "But don't worry, we'll be back for you in the morning, we're flying to Italy tomorrow afternoon, so you kind of have to be rested up."
Clint moaned, stretching his arms and yet again yanking on the IV tube. "Agh! Shit." he cursed in pain.
"Clint.." Bob said, putting his brother's arm down. "Don't do that! See, you're making yourself bleed." he said, pointing to the part where the tube went into Clint's arms. There was a bit of blood in the beginning of the line.
"It's supposed to do that Bob." Clint informed him.
"Yeah right. Just don't do that anymore, it makes me nervous."
"Awwww." Scott crooned. "Bob is playing Mommy."
"Shut up Scott! Relax, before you hurt something." Bob scolded.
"Where's Dave with some more of that candy? That shit is good." Scott stated, getting up from his perch at the end of the bed and exiting the room.
"Do I really have to stay here over night?" Clint asked, looking up into Bob's big brown eyes.
"Yeah, but I'll stay too if you want." Bob said.
"You don't have to..." Clint trailed off, closing his eyes.
"Dad's not going to leave you here alone anyway Clint so I might as well." Bob pointed out.
"MmmmHmmm." Clint said, dozing off again.
* * *
Dave was shaken from his slumber. He sat up and groggily looked around, not remembering where he was. The familiar surroundings jogged his memory. He was in his hotel room. He must have fallen asleep when he got back from the hospital, he was still wearing his clothes and shoes.
"Dave, come on, we have to go to the hospital, something happened with Clint." Scott whispered.
"What happened?!" Dave nearly shouted, jumping to his feet. He headed for the bathroom.
"Dad just called, telling us to get over there. Sheila's downstairs getting a taxi."
Dave went into the bathroom, only partially shutting the door. "What happened?!" he demanded again, unzipping his pants.
Scott leaned against the wall, trying not to hear the sound of his brother urinate. "Just hurry up Dave." he said softly, the reality that he could loose a brother all too much for him to bear.
"Scott!" Dave exclaimed. "I'm not going to ask you again!" Dave shouted, flushing the toilet. He started to wash his hands in the sink. "What the hell happened." he asked finally emerging.
Scott's next action shocked Dave, letting him know the urgency of the situation. Scott wrapped his youngest brother in a hug.
* * *
"Scott! Dave! Sheila!" Bob called frantically, running down the hall to meet up with them. He paid no attention to the perturbed looks he was receiving from passing nurses. "He's sick! He's sick!!!" he continued to shout, yanking on locks of his hair. "But he's still holding on."
"What happened?!" Dave exclaimed, not able to take the amount of curiosity that had welled up inside him.
"His temperature... it was... almost... a hundred seven!" Bob explained, still yelling. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, the symptoms of being up for thirty hours.
"Bob," Sheila said in a soothing voice, sliding an arm around her shoulder. "You need to calm down baby, Clint will be fine. You need to just relax."
"Yeah! Chill out!" Scott shouted, storming away.
"What the hell just happened here?" Dave said, more to himself than to anyone else. "One brother is dying, one having a nervous breakdown, and the other is having PMS! Am I the only sane child in this family?"
"Why don't you just shut the fuck up Dave!?!" Bob shrieked, louder than necessary. "Clint could die and all you're thinking about is something totally irrelevant!"
Dave looked at his triplet in disbelief. He had never seen Bob loose control like that before. "Bob, chill." he said.
Bob slumped down to the floor in the middle of the hallway. He muttered something about drinking seven cups of coffee. Dave sat down beside him.
"Bob, I think you need some sleep. You are going to seriously hurt yourself." Sheila coaxed. "This is not the time to go crazy. This is a time to be calm and to relax."
"I can't relax..." Bob said, rocking back and forth.
Frank walked out into the hallway. "Boys!" he exclaimed, seeing his two sons in the hallway.
"How is he?" Sheila asked, standing up from her crouching position.
"One-o-five point three." Frank replied mournfully. "It's only by the grace of God that he's still alive."
Bob buried his face in his hands. He couldn't bare the thought of loosing someone so close, let alone his other half.
"Hey Bob, hang in there." Dave said gently, though he was dying inside.
"I need sleep." Bob said sadly. He was so wired, he could barely see straight.
"Where's Scott?" Frank asked.
"God only knows." Dave muttered.
Bob scooted back so he was sitting against the wall. He stared straight ahead, trying to will himself to be tired. He couldn't even think straight. All he wanted was for Clint to be okay.
* * *