“Great show, man,” Gabe called to Jasper. Just to get his attention.
In truth, he’d just arrived about five minutes ago.
Jasper froze.
“Oh, shit,” he said sincerely, by way of greeting.
“That’s right,” Gabe agreed.
They stared at each other.
Townes had a towel draped around his neck and his idiosyncratic hair was glued back from his face with sweat. He looked quite weary but still lit from within. It probably was a pretty transcendent show. No one could say the guy didn’t work for his money.
“How did you get back here, Principal Gabe? Rappel down the stadium wall like G.I. Joe?”
“As it so happens, I served with the head of your security team in Afghanistan. He was happy to let me have a backstage pass. He knew me as Lieutenant Caldera back then.”
He’d made that phone call about the backstage pass on the way to the stadium, and he’d condensed the long drive into about an hour, too.
Gabe knew the shortcuts.
And all the state troopers on the way, if it came to that.
Jasper gave a short, unamused laugh. “Did Eden put a hit out on me? Did they teach you to do the Vulcan pinch in the SEALs? If you saw my show, you know I’m a great screamer. I don’t have time for whatever this is, Caldera. It’s on to the next town, as usual.”
He shot a desperate look at his tour bus.
Gabe stood between him and it.
“Eden doesn’t know I’m here at all. But I think you know why I’m here. It’s about an auditorium full of people who now think Annelise Harwood totally made you up. She only cried a little.”
Jasper closed his eyes. He heaved a huge sigh. He opened his eyes again. He looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Gabe waited.
Jasper pressed his lips together. “Like I said, I was just getting ready to pack up—”
“You don’t have a second to talk to a veteran?” Gabe raised his voice sonorously in hurt surprise.
A person with a press pass stopped so comically short his shoes made a screeching sound on the concrete.
Jasper sighed. “Oh, for fuck’s... come with me.” He strode over to the bus and yanked open the door. “Hey, everyone, can you clear out for a second? I want to have a chat with... an old friend.”
A gaggle of women and men, all woolly head hair, exposed midriffs and tattoos, emerged on great plumes of weed-scented smoke and dutifully filed off.
The bus was luxurious, but not ostentatious. It smelled like pot and sweaty people.
“Want a beer?” Jasper yanked open a mini fridge.
“Sure.”
Jasper flipped the beer out backward like he was pitching a fastball.
Gabe caught it with one hand.
Coors Light. Pretty funny choice. He hefted it, bemused.
“I grew up drinking these,” Jasper explained. He took a seat on a plump padded sofa. Gabe sat opposite him on its twin.