While Mike and Jamie placed their bagpipes in the cases, Will and Steven unplugged the equipment and amplifiers, taking them back and forth to the van Steven had driven. Dunk stumbled around several times before Steven finally told him to step aside and let Will take the percussion to the van.
As they walked outside, Mike slung his arm around Christina’s shoulders. “I can tell you’re tense, but Steven is just trying to take this band as far as it can go.”
Twisting her head up to look at him, she asked, “And are you along for the ride? All the way?”
He ducked his head and shrugged. “I’ve got to admit, the fame sounds intriguing, but I don’t know.” His voice trailed off, and she followed his line of sight to where Jamie was trying to pull Dunk along.
“He did nothing but drink all night,” she said.
“I used to think it was mostly an act, but I’m not sure anymore,” Mike admitted.
“Are we done so we can get out of here?” Steven asked.
“Who pissed in your beer?” Mike groused. “You’ve been barking orders all night.”
Deciding she'd had enough, Christina said, “Okay, look, everyone. We’re all tired and grumpy. Why don’t we just go home, have a couple of days to rest, and then get back together?”
“Best thing you said all night,” Steven quipped before turning and walking to the van.
Ready to get away, she was glad she’d driven her own car. Carefully placing her violin on the back seat, she left the driver’s door open as she sat with her legs sticking out of the automobile. Pulling off her tall, heeled boots, she wiggled her toes for a moment, wishing Clay was there to offer a foot massage. Reaching behind her, she grabbed her sneakers from the passenger seat and slid them on. The comfortable footwear made her the happiest she’d been all evening.
Just then, her phone vibrated, and she looked at the caller ID, seeing Clay’s name. “Oh, my God, you must’ve known I was thinking about you!”
“Are you all finished for the night, babe?” Clay asked.
“Yes! Finished for the night and finished for the week! I’m sick of these guys and ready for a break!”
“I’m actually not too far from your place. I know we didn’t settle anything for sure, but would you like some company tonight?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like better—”
“You can’t drive!” came a shout from nearby. Jerking her head up, she saw Will and Steven inside the van, but Mike was standing outside of Dunk’s truck, arguing. “You’re drunk! Unlock the door, and I’ll drive you home.”
Dunk laughed, wiggled his fingers, and shouted, “Fuck off, man!”
Clay’s voice came over the phone. “Are you still there?”
“Oh, Jesus! Dunk drank too much, and now he’s trying to drive out of the parking lot. Mike’s trying to get him to stop, but I don’t think he’s going to.”
“Babe, stay away from them. If Mike can’t get Dunk to stay put, then I don’t want you on the road with him driving around.”
She heard Dunk’s truck engine race, expecting him to peel out of the parking lot. Instead, he threw it into reverse instead of drive, and she watched in horror as his truck lurched backward, heading directly toward her. She barely had time to jerk her feet inside at the last second before the back of his truck slammed into the driver’s side of her car.
The sound of crunching metal filled her ears as her car scooted sideways, and her body was propelled backward. Screaming, her heart raced as she tried to scramble toward the passenger side, covered in shattered glass.
“Christina? Christina! What the hell happened? Are you okay?”
Her phone had been tossed to the floorboard, and all she could do was cry out, “He hit my car! He hit my car!” She reached for her phone as Jamie and Mike pulled open her passenger door.
“Shit, Tiny! You’re bleeding!” Mike exclaimed as the two men reached in, taking her arms and gently pulling her out of her car.
Her legs were shaky, threatening to give out from underneath her as they escorted her away from the vehicles. She looked to the side to see Steven and Will tugging Dunk from the driver seat of his truck. Jamie was on the phone calling 9-1-1, and she was barely aware that Mike took her phone from her hand.
“This is Mike. Who’s this?”
“You’ve got Clay. What the fuck is going on? Is Christina okay?” Clay barked so loudly that Christina heard him even though her phone was pressed to Mike’s ear.
“Yeah, yeah, man. She’s fine. There’s been a… a… accident. Fuck, but she’s okay—”
“I’m coming. Tell her I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
Mike looked down at Christina, and she plopped her bottom down to the pavement, no longer willing her legs to hold her up.
“That was Clay. He said that he’ll be here—"
“I heard,” she said, lifting her hand to wipe the moisture from her cheek. Glancing down, she saw the blood on her fingers. “Dunk… is he okay?”
“Unconscious, but I think he’s just drunk,” Jamie said, bending over, his face filled with concern. Squatting in front of her, he asked, “How are you?”
“Check on my violin. Please, get it out of the backseat of my car.”
With a shake of his head in a rueful grin, Mike looked at Jamie. “Beat to hell, and she’s worried about her violin. That’s our Tiny.”
The sounds of sirens were heard in the distance, and soon flashing lights filled the parking lot. An ambulance pulled close to her, paramedics immediately rushing over. She lifted her shaking hand. “I’m fine, honest I’m fine.”
“Let’s check you out, ma’am,” the paramedic said.
“But what about Dunk, the man who was in the truck—”
“Fuck him, Tiny,” Mike groused. “Don’t worry about him. The police are dealing with him.”
Before she had a chance to respond, the squeal of tires sounded nearby, and she looked up to see Clay stalking toward her. The image of an avenging angel swooping went through her mind, and she wondered if she’d hit her head. She had never seen Clay angry, but at that moment, rage poured from him and the air vibrated with his fury. When he reached her, he lifted his hand, and with a gentle touch, placed his finger on her cheek where the small bandage had been taped.
“I’m fine,” she said, wondering how many times she was going to say that phrase this evening even as she heard the shakiness in her voice.
“You’re going to be fine,” he amended. “But right now you’re not fine.” He turned to the paramedic. “How is she? Should she go to the hospital?”
The paramedic glanced toward her and asked, “Ma’am, is it okay for me to talk to him?”
She nodded, and the paramedic said, “Her blood pressure and heart rate are elevated, but that’s to be expected. She says she didn’t hit her head, and the cuts are superficial.”
She thanked him as they packed up their equipment but jolted as Clay’s voice barked to the others. “What the fuck happened?”
“It was an accident—” Steven said, walking over.