No, no, no.
“Phoebe, Phoebe,” Libby whisper-shouted. “Put Penny or your uncle on the phone.”
“What?” the child called as a brass band played in the background.
A brass band? Where the heck were they?
She tried again. “Phoebe, honey, get Penny. I’m in the back of a police car,” she whispered, curling her body into the back of the seat to keep the officers from catching wind of what she was doing.
“You’re driving a pickle car? Wow! I want Uncle Row to get a hot dog car. They make ’em. I saw one on the internet.”
“Not a pickle car. A police car,” she murmured, burying her head beneath her arm.
“I can’t hear you anymore, so bye, Libby. See you soon in your pickle car,” the child sang out before the line went dead and her phone went black.
She moaned. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”
“You can get out of the car,” the female officer said.
Libby froze. Tucked into a vertical fetal position, she hadn’t felt the vehicle stop. “The car’s not moving, is it?” she asked, not daring to look at the officers.
“We’ve stopped, and I hope you don’t mind, but we had a little fun with you,” the male officer said.
Libby lifted her head and stared out the open car door. “This isn’t the police station.”
“No, it’s not,” the female officer answered. “We were asked to bring you here as a favor.”
“Why?” she asked, unfolding her body and scooting out of the cruiser.
“That’s not for us to say, but be sure to call down to the station and let us know when and where we can start taking Pun-chi yoga classes.”
“You know that I’m the Pun-chi yoga lady?” she asked.
“Yes, and we know that you won the Ass-in-Nine race while representing Denver’s first responders. Good work! Women get the job done,” the female officer said, offering her a fist bump for a little girl power.
“I can’t wait to try Pun-chi yoga,” the male officer added. “That one-handed handstand you and Erasmus Cress can do is impressive.”
“When did you see Erasmus do a one-handed handstand?” she pressed. She figured he’d never try that move.
“Have you been under a rock, lady?”
Why did people keep asking her that?
“So, I’m not under arrest?” she asked, trying to get her bearings.
The officers grinned at her.
“We’re friends of George and Joey. Your original arresting officers,” the policeman answered.
“That’s a quasi-unsettling statement, but yes, I do remember George and Joey from the night I was…”
“Arrested for disturbing the peace and throwing vibrators at Erasmus Cress,” the policewoman supplied.
“Am I free to go?” she asked, needing to nip this convo in the bud.
“Yes, ma’am, you sure are free to go, and good luck. We’re pulling for you two,” the policewoman answered with a wink—a wink.
She surveyed the area, taking in the festive atmosphere. There was an event going on with music, tents, and a stage in the center of a park. She looked on as a reporter stood in front of a camera.
“And that’s where we are, folks,” the reporter chimed. “Erasmus Cress’s team says that today he’s fighting for love. The question is, will we see him in the ring tonight? The answer? No one seems to know.”
No one seems to know?
What did that mean?
She barely had a second to ponder the reporter’s baffling words when two men came barreling toward her. “Anders, Alec! What are you doing here? When did you get here?” she cried as joy radiated through her body. The boys were so tall she had to jump to wrap her arms around her giant baby brothers.
“We got into town a few hours ago,” Alec answered.
This was unreal!
“Do you know what’s going on?” she asked, scanning the crowded park, then caught the twins sharing a knowing look.
From the cops to her brothers, these knowing looks were starting to get on her nerves.
Anders pointed to a banner with CFF printed in bold lettering.
What did CFF stand for?
“It’s a fundraising event and a volunteer sign-up,” Alec explained.
“That’s terrific,” she answered, feeling like she’d stepped into an alternate universe. “I’m for both, but I still don’t understand why two policemen pretended to arrest me, then brought me here. And what’s going on with Raz? I overheard a reporter say he wasn’t sure if he would be fighting tonight,” she said when the shrill bang of a gong vibrated through the air.
“Sorry, sis, it’s Chicken Dance time. They must have got another thousand donations,” Alec said to his brother as a marching band marched through the crowd, belting out the freaking “Chicken Dance” song.
All at once, like a bunch of possessed zombies at an outdoor wedding, every single person, except for her, busted out the moves.
Clap, clap, clap, clap.
Flap, flap, flap, flap.
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.
Libby stared at a giant jumbo television screen fixed above a stage. People floated inside a spacecraft that looked slightly familiar. “Is that a movie?” she asked a woman busting out the wiggle, wiggle, wiggle part as weightless astronauts did the Chicken Dance along with the people on Earth.
“No, those are the astronauts on the International Space Station. It’s a live feed,” the lady replied.
Libby cocked her head to the side. “Oh yeah, that is them,” she said, wondering if the crow had slipped her some psychedelics when it took her stone. Maybe she had some crazy crow flu because wherever she was, it was pretty trippy.
“What in Buddha’s name is going on?” she bellowed, raising her voice a frenzied octave at the very instant the band stopped.
For what felt like a million years, several hundred pairs of eyes focused on her.
“It’s for you, plum.”
Her heart leaped into her throat at the sound of that voice—Raz’s voice. She turned to find not only Erasmus but her father, too.
Was this happening?
She blinked, expecting to see a padded cell, but the men were still there, smiling at her like it was normal to hang out in a park doing the Chicken Dance to a brass band with astronauts.
She shook her head to clear the cosmic cobwebs. “Dad, I thought you had to get to the airport? Doesn’t your job start tomorrow?”
“It does. But Erasmus offered me the use of his jet to get to Kansas City so I could be here.”
“What’s going on, Dad?” she asked, still not even sure where she was or what the hell was going on.
“Don’t be too upset with your father, Libby. He was doing me a favor,” Raz said, looking at her like she was the answer to all his prayers.
And sweet swooning Buddha, that earnest boyish grin sent tingles straight to her lady parts, which was super weird with her father two feet away. Still, it wasn’t her fault her body wanted to ride Erasmus Cress into the sunset.
Get it together.
She needed answers, and she needed them now.
There were two ways to go about this. One way employed love and light, the other, not so much.