|
by Kellyanne Lynch 13 October 2000 (6:11 PM) - 4 November 2000 (3:34 AM) Disclaimer: The events in this story are fictitious, though the members of Matchbox Twenty are, in every sense of the word, real. This story is for the purpose of entertainment and possible recognition from the band, (hee! ; ) I have no connection with Matchbox Twenty or any corporation or entity connected to them… yet. Summary: Rob goes missing Rating: PG Please e-mail matchbox20orbusted@yahoo.com with questions, comments, theories, complaints, or words of wisdom. --------------------------------------------------- Matchbox One I drummed my fingers to the tune that had been stuck in my head all week. Phrases and melodies raced through my brain as a blank notebook page glared at me from the desk. I could hear loud voices in the hallway outside the hotel room. It had to be the guys. "You are SICK!" I recognised Adam's voice. "You ordered McDonald's food?!? There's better stuff here!" I leaned closer to the desk. Strands of my freshly dyed blond hair slipped over my eyes, and I brushed them aside. Then closed my eyes. I took in a lungful of air and relaxed my shoulders. "Life's melodramatic stage plays host to death's ironic drama," I whispered. I opened my eyes and recorded the line before it could slip away. Again, I closed my eyes. "And don't let me down!" Kyle's tenor resonated off the hotel walls. The door flew open. Kyle stepped in, clutching a full drink tray in one hand and McDonalds bags in the other. "Don't let me down!" He crossed the room in three strides and set the drink tray on the desk. "Whatcha doing, Pookie?" Covering the page, I mumbled my reply. "Nothing." Kyle shrugged and plopped down on the bed. Grabbing the clicker, he switched on the television. Adam whisked into the room and hit the power button as he passed the tube. "Bad Kyle!" Adam exclaimed. "This ain't TV time!" He turned to me. "Hey, Pookie, did you tell him it's playtime?" "I didn't tell him anything," I murmured. The words of the song that Kyle had been singing earlier were now stuck in my head, and it was tough to write anything else. I dropped my pen and sighed. Kyle lay back on the bed, his knees bent and pointing to the ceiling. The window beside the bed was open, allowing a cool breeze to whisper over him. Light trickled through the parting of the drapes; its beam left a stripe across Kyle's shirt. He sighed. Closing his eyes, he hummed to himself. "What? Now that you made Frank go through all that trouble, you're not even gonna eat?" Adam seated himself in another chair beside the desk. Kyle's eyelids fluttered open halfway. Furrowing his eyebrows, he said, "I'm waiting for the others." He shut his eyes again, with another sigh, and the muscles in his face relaxed. Adam stared at him for a few seconds before turning to me and mouthing the words, "Can you believe this guy?" He slid off the chair and crept over to the bed. He hovered over Kyle for a full minute, probably to make sure that he was asleep. Reaching for the pillow above Kyle's head, Adam raised an index finger to his lips. I smiled. I had to stifle a laugh too, once that psychopathic expression crossed his face. "Ahhh!!!" Adam lunged forward, slamming the pillow into Kyle's face. Kyle's arms and legs flailed about, and he jolted upright. THUD! Adam hit the floor. Rolling off the bed, Kyle fell on Adam and throttled him. I wish I had popcorn. Just then, Paul peered into the room and found me watching Adam and Kyle beat the crap out of each other. He didn't seem phased. "Hey, guys?" he called into the fray. Shrugging, he turned to me. "Have you seen Rob?" "Not lately," I shook my head. "He was raiding the vending machine a few hours ago though." Paul grimaced and turned back to the children. Adam now had Kyle in a chokehold and was laughing maniacally. "Guys!" he yelled. Realising that they were ignoring him, Paul sighed. He headed for the open door. "Wait!" Kyle rasped, tugging at the arm pressed into his neck. Paul turned as Adam released Kyle. Gesturing toward the desk, he said, "Dinner?" Paul raised a hand. "No thanks, Smooches! I ate!" "What'dya have?" Kyle asked as he and Adam stood up. "Just some seafood." "Ooh!" Adam sauntered over to Paul. "Fancy seafood or Capt'n Jack's Goldfish Grill-a-long?" Shrugging, Paul replied, "It was just fish, haddock or something." "Nice!" "Hey, listen," Paul must have remembered the real reason why he was here in the first place. "Have either of you seen Rob lately?" "Yeah," Adam replied. "I had a Rob siting about an hour ago. He was across from the hotel gym, doing his laundry." I stared at Adam. There had to be a punch line. "He was what?!?" "Doing his laundry. Yeah, I know it's strange. I asked him about it. He just said he really wanted to this one shirt clean for tonight, he needed to have it, and there was no time to get it dry cleaned." Paul raised an eyebrow. "Well, was it the one he wore last night?" Flinging his arms up in the air, Adam cried, "Hey, I'm not the man's fashion coordinator! I never remember what he wears!" He smiled at me. "But I do notice what Pookie wears!" his voice went up a few octaves. "'Cause he's just so fine!" I glanced over at Adam with a smile. " Do I make you horny, baby?" I asked in my best Austin Powers voice. Adam and Kyle burst into laughter, and I couldn't help but chuckle. My smile faded, however, when I saw the expression on Paul's face. Though tinted by pink sunglasses, the concern in his eyes still showed. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. "He was doing his laundry," Paul stated as he stared into space. |