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The Tour Zone by Groucho
A fantasy that takes place somewhere over the rainbow, in one of many possible realities involving Katharine McPhee, her McPhamily, McPhriends and McPhans
When I first saw the tour bus, a magnificent many-wheeled vehicle with built-in bathroom, kitchenette, two lounge areas with entertainment centers, and twelve curtained bunks, I thought to myself, well, Katharine, this won’t be so bad. This thing is almost like a rolling hotel.
A week later, it was looking a lot smaller, and I said as much. The other four girls just smiled. “We don’t like to say we told you so,” Paris said with a big grin, “but—“ and they all joined in and said in unison, “We told you so!”
“Oh, just shut UP,” I said.
Paris had finished changing into her nightwear and was on her way up to the front with a portable CD player in her hand. Despite the fact that it was after midnight and we were all beat, we frequently found that after a performance we would just be too keyed up to go to sleep right away, so we would wander around looking for anything to relax us. Most of us hooked up to some kind of music a lot. Lisa sometimes played air-piano along with whatever she was listening to. Mandisa liked to end her day by reading her Bible. Sometimes Jamecia, Paris’ mother, rode herd on the kids, other times she just hit the bunk and was able to attain unconsciousness a lot quicker than we were. Sometimes Kellie and I would sit at the kitchenette and play cards with a real old-fashioned deck of cards or sprawl on the couches in one of the lounges and just talk. We all picked at each other constantly, partly out of boredom and partly just because it was fun.
Lisa followed Paris forward. The two young ones seemed to have found a natural affinity just as Kellie and I had. I wondered if Mandisa felt like odd-man-out in our particular kind of enforced intimacy and frequently asked her to join in our games or just watch a movie with us.
We had a long road trip ahead of us, so we could afford to spend a little time goofing off. There would be time to sleep later, and we may as well watch a movie or talk as toss and turn in our adequate but certainly not overly spacious beds. The standard touring bus seemed to come with enough built-in bunks for a basketball team, so we stored our paraphernalia on some of the unused ones. I dug in one of the large mesh storage hampers full of miscellania my fan club had delivered to us at one of the concerts and came out holding a DVD of Pretty Woman. “How about a chick flick?” I said.
“Ooh, we’re gonna get a dose of love-conquers-all,” Kellie said. “What the heck. That okay with you, Mandisa?”
“Honey, I just want to put my feet up. I’ll watch anything,” she answered.
We all more or less knew the story but enjoyed it as a semi-diversion while we talked through the parts of lesser interest. “I just love this movie,” I said.
“Yeah, you love it so much you’re talkin’ through all of it,” Kellie said.
“Well, I’ve seen it a dozen times. Now it’s giving me a horrible urge to call Chris.”
“At this time of night?”
“It’s earlier in California,” I reminded. “Besides, he should just be glad to hear from me.” I got my cell phone and punched his speed dial.
“What are you gonna do if a woman answers?” Kellie asked.
“Oh, will you just shut UP?”
Kellie laughed and kicked her feet playfully. Sometimes she seemed younger than the two up front, but that was okay. We ragged on each other unmercifully all the time. Chris answered almost immediately.
“No women!” I said, mugging at Kellie.
“What?”
“Never mind, Honey, Kellie just said something nasty.”
Between the drone of the wall tv in the background and Kellie’s teasing it was hard to carry on a conversation. What was I doing? Watching one of my favorite movies. The tub scene was on. Yes, our version of it had been much better. Kellie wanted to tell him hi. And ask him how he’d been able to answer the phone so quickly. What had he done with his girlfriend? I was to tell her his only girlfriend other than me was her. We weren’t making much sense, but then that wasn’t the point. I just wanted to hear his voice and feel like the miles between us didn’t really matter. What did I hear playing in the background? It sounded familiar. Good old YouTube.
“He’s singing to me,” I announced.
“What?” Kellie said.
“I said he’s singing to me.”
“I heard, what’s he singing?” she said, giggling uncontrollably.