Road Trip Pt. 05

In a quieter voice I said, "I forgot we'd be on TV. Your words just caught me by surprise. How many will be watching?"

Tina said, "If it's like the last couple of Cowboy games and like most Sunday Night Football, somewhere in the vicinity of twenty million viewers."

I started to stammer and stutter again, " TWENTY Mo ... Ma ... Me ... Mil ... Million!"

Tina caught on to my anxiety about that time. She tried to calm me, "Jim, you won't even know it's happening. The camera guys are barely noticeable as they move around you. Just focus on ... on Crystal! Sing to her, not to the stadium or the cameras. The rest will take care of itself."

I became glum for a few minutes and grumbled around the inside of the tour bus while Crystal had her face put on. I thought she had looked good before. I got the treatment too, even eye makeup. A hair stylist worked on my unruly locks for twenty minutes, most of which would be under a western hat part of the time. A very naked Heather had done my last haircut only a few days earlier; I took some solace in that fact.

A caterer brought a dozen trays of small sandwiches and hors d'oeuvres to the bus. We spread them around inside, and I migrated from tray to tray sampling all the goodies. Eating made me feel better - comfort food. On the bus' TV, we all watched the kickoff for the game. New England had won the toss and opted to kickoff.

At the end of the first quarter, Alan Roswell, the man in charge of the halftime show for the Cowboys, banged on the door and entered the bus. He looked happy but serious. "Alright everyone, we're all set for the best halftime show ever! Now, Jim and Crystal I need you on your motorcycle. There's an escort outside the bus and they will take you to a holding point. You'll wait there until the cue to start riding into the stadium; just follow the escort right to the bottom of the stage stairs, dismount, park your motorcycle, walk up the stairs, and you're ready to sing. Your wireless mics and headsets will be handed to you at the bottom of the stairs; you can put them on as you climb to the stage."

Crystal asked, "What about timing with the stage crew?"

Alan answered, "We've timed the trip from the holding point. The police escorts you're with know the details. The blimp overhead will cover your journey, and we'll project that on the stadium screens to build excitement. You should arrive just as the stage is completed and everyone else - the band and stage crews - is ready to start. This is a great idea, because it puts the focus on your arrival instead of the crew setting up the stage. As you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you should hear the lead in to 'Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl.' After your show, just reverse everything and exit behind your escort."

Crystal and I stepped down out of the van. Four motorcycle cops were waiting for us along with a crowd of fans. We waved to everyone, and introduced ourselves to the motorcycle officers. I heard a thousand cameras start to snap as we shook hands with them. To one side of the crowd, I caught sight of Bart Kenesis again, but things were too hectic to do anything about him.

We mounted up and fell in line behind two of the motorcycles. Crystal held the hats we'd wear while we sang. The other two patrolmen followed us. They had all their warning lights blinking, and occasionally would turn on the sirens to clear a path for us. The crowd parted, and we slowly rode away from the stadium.

The police phalanx led us about a half-mile from the stadium onto a residential road. Four more motorcycle policemen met us there. We were organized by a senior officer into a two-two-one-two-two formation, where Crystal and I were the 'one.' With all the lights blinking we were unmistakably important people. Crystal pointed up at the blimp. I could also hear the chatter on their police radios about the estimated time to the start of our short trip to the stadium.

At eight-thirty, we got the "Go" command. We started up our bikes, and I followed the four motorcycles in front of us as we wove out of the treed neighborhood onto some of the streets and parking lanes that led to the stadium. We maintained a nice even pace, maybe about ten miles an hour. Every light on any motorcycle in our entourage had been turned on; our formation blinked wildly with red and blue emergency lights as we approached the gated tunnel that led onto the field. The blimp circled us overhead. I could hear the crowd noise over the sounds of the cycles.

We were waved through the tunnel by several private security guards. Our entire formation rode into the stadium with sirens and all the lights blinking. The crowd went wild. Even over the noise of the nine Harley's, we could hear the screams, whistles, and shouts. We rode two-thirds of the way around the perimeter of the playing field on a path that had been cleared for us.

As promised, our escort led us right to base of the stairway leading up to the stage. We got off, the bike, got our mics and headsets, donned our hats, and ran up the stairs onto the stage. The segue music for 'Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl'had started and a huge spotlight lit up Crystal. I faded to the background and tried to look useful by cavorting with the lead guitarist. The motorcycles had all been turned off and darkened. The focus and spotlight were on Crystal.

As Crystal sang her song, I peeked up at the rows and rows of people in the stadium. I couldn't see an empty seat in the place. I thought, "So, this is what eighty-thousand people look like." I found the scene scary on the one hand, and empowering on the other. I chose to dwell on the latter emotion. If I'd remained a computer geek, would I have ever found myself in such a situation and in front of so many people?

About three minutes passed, and I heard the band start the musical bridge into 'Texas Dawn.' Crystal turned to me, and I moved up beside her into the main spotlight. We gave each other a little kiss before we started. The crowd went wild with cheers, and a thousand more cameras flashed.

We sang the opening line to 'Texas Dawn'- 'Texas dawns come early, when you've been awake all night' - and the crowd noise rose in a huge crescendo, so loud I could barely think. We were singing about Texas to a Texas crowd, and they loved it. They quieted slightly as we got into the song. After that, I gave a brief introduction to 'Lone Wolf Mountain'and we sang that. I couldn't tell whether it had been well received or not. Lots of people were screaming anyway, so it was hard for me to tell appreciation from general exuberance. As we sang, I watched six guys dressed like Ninja's with wireless television cameras sneaking around us on the stage and below the stage on the playing field. We segued into our medley that ended with a jived up version of 'Dallas' that bought the stands to their feet cheering. Tina had it right; she'd said, "Always play to the home team."

As we finished, we gave a wave to the stadium, ran down the stairs, took off our hats, handed off the wireless mics, and hopped back on the motorcycle. Our police escort had been waiting for us in the shadows of the stage with their engines and lights off. As we mounted the bike, all the blinking lights came back on and all the cycles started and revved their engines. We motored away from the stage, as the stadium crew started to dismantle the structure.

We completed the rest of the loop around the stadium and left the way we came in. As we cleared the stadium parking area, most of the motorcycle patrolmen waved and departed our group. Two patrolmen stayed with us, and led us back to the secure parking area and the tour bus. We stopped, thanked them, and shook hands. Crystal kissed each one on the cheek; they left us with big smiles on their faces.

* * * * *

In the tour bus, Ellen raced up to me and lavished several great kisses on me, several with lots of tongue - my kind of kiss. Terry hugged Crystal as Tina stood by. I got a 'knock your socks off' kiss from Tina too. Everyone had a lot of praise for our performance.

Tina said, "Great job everyone. Now, let's get these two ready for the Press Conference."

Crystal and I said simultaneously, "Press Conference?"

Tina explained, "Yes, about fifteen minutes after the end of the game, the Cowboys want you to spend a little time with some of the press. You can both promote your albums, and you'll field questions from the press - probably about twenty of them according to Alan Roswell."

I asked, "But, aren't the press more interested in the coaches and players."

Tina explained, "Yes, and they're having their own press conference in another room. You two are talking to the 'social' press - you know, the people that focus on rumor, gossip, and innuendo in the music and movie industry."

People in the bus started milling around, mostly watching the third quarter of the football game.

I pulled Crystal aside, "We better talk and get our stories straight." She nodded and came with me to the bedroom area; we left the door open, and sat on the bed in the tight quarters.

I told her, "There are two questions we've got to have 'pat' answers for. One might not get asked; the other is a sure thing."

She asked, "What's the sure thing - our relationship?"

"Exactly," I told her. "Are you two serious about each other? Are you still dating? Are you seeing others? Are you engaged or married? Are you exclusive? What are your intentions towards each other? The questions will sound something like that."

Crystal fixed me in her gaze, "And how would you answer them?"

I reached across the bed and took Crystal's hand, "Crystal, I think of heaven as being in the same room as you, let alone being able to hold you. I told you on the golf course that I love you, and I mean it. I want us to be serious."

She said somberly, "And, I know that now is not the time."

I shook my head, "For me, it's too soon. I know other celebs marry the day after they meet, but I just can't. I feel that there would be a lot of negative publicity for us if we do anything other than say we're casually dating until after more time has passed. We can still be 'an item' this way too. I wish it were otherwise, but I don't want it to look as though you've captured some wounded bird, or that I bounced out of Karen's death in a cavalier manner."

Crystal stared at me a long time. I kissed her hand. Finally, she said, "You're right and thinking this way is part of why I love you. So what are we - for the press?"

I said, "One answer is 'We're best friends, dating, and learning about each other - more so everyday, and if things keep progressing the way they are, at some time in the future 'something interesting' might happen.'"

Crystal said, "What about your motorcycle trip?"

"Right. I've got to finish my road trip - it's a 'get over my late wife' and mid-life crisis 'right of passage' for me. What would you add?"

She said, "We're both at the start of our careers with new albums and for me lots of public appearances - you'll do more when you finish your trip. Oh, and we see each other when we can, which hasn't been that often since we met."

Crystal squirmed across the bed and kissed me. "We're so good at PR ... and I do love you with all my heart." We necked for a minute, and then she pulled away; "Hey, what's the other question?"

I grimaced and answered her, "Is it true you two were involved in some kind of sex orgy at Table Rock Lake in Branson, Missouri?" I also knew that Bart Kenesis would ask the question if he was allowed into the press conference.

* * * * *

The press conference started a half-hour after the end of the game; Crystal and I were both a little nervous, although we'd talked about the questions we might get asked. About twenty-five different members of the press filed into the large room as Crystal, Terry, Tina, and I took four chairs behind a long table at the front of the room. Alan Roswell, the Cowboys' halftime coordinator called the press conference to order and introduced us.

Before any questions got launched, Alan talked about the outstanding work the stadium crew had done in the set up and tear down of the halftime show. This was not what the various press people wanted to hear, however, they patiently waited for him to finish his spiel. He then opened up the floor for questions. About that time, I saw Bart Kenesis slip into the back of the room with his camera. He immediately took several shots of all of us lined up at the table. I smiled.

A woman in a tight black jump suit with a gold lamé shawl took the portable mic and said, "Diedre Rank, US magazine. There's been lots of speculation about the intensity and details of the relationship between Crystal and Jim. Could the two of you comment on what's really going on?"

Crystal jumped in and said a few words, almost word for word what we'd rehearsed. I improvised another sentence or two beyond that. A dozen follow-up questions came flying at us: 'Have you talked about marriage? Children? Have you met each other's parents? Do you have the same friends? How do you handle both being on the road in different cities? Will you buy a diamond engagement ring, and if so, when and how big? Where will you live when you settle down?' I admired the detailed thinking that went into the questions. Most of them we laughed at and explained that our relationship and thinking hadn't gotten anywhere near that far along. For the most part, the tabloids were disappointed.

As things slowed down, I saw the microphone get passed to our secret nemesis, Bart Kenesis. He said, "Brad Kenesis, Freelance Journalist. This question is for Jim Mellon; you were in Army Special Ops up until a decade ago; have you used any of those skills recently?"

I laughed dismissively at the question, guessing that he'd reasoned that I'd used those skills in Missouri to take the memory card from his camera - the card with the salacious pictures of our outdoor orgy. After my artificial laughter, I said, "I'm in my late thirties now, and to tell the truth getting a little pudgy here and there. About the only skills, I use today involve staying in shape. I try to run three to seven miles most days, occasionally putting in runs as long as twelve miles. I use a gym if there's one available, watch my diet, and ... I try to remain sharp enough to counter any threats to the people I love ... but, overall, no, I haven't had to use any of my old Army skills - well maybe a few camping skills though." I hoped he'd internalize the dig I'd made about protecting the people I loved.

Kenesis jumped in again before relinquishing the mic; "Could you comment on the sexual escapades you, Crystal, and another couple enjoyed in Branson, Missouri, about seven or eight weeks ago?" A buzz circulated among the other members of the press, and everyone leaned forward to hear my answer.

I answered nonchalantly yet seriously, and directly at Kenesis, "Well, that sounds like fun but I'm afraid you have the wrong group of people." I paused, frowned, and said, "If you posed a 'suggestive and loaded question' to impugn our reputations and start a rumor; I take your statement as a personal insult and consider you to be a promoter of yellow journalism at its worst, and probably libel and defamation of character if you persist. Your fellow members of the press in this room should castigate you ... although I'd prefer if they castrated you."

The other members of the press chortled at my play on words.

I smiled in a strange way at the photographer, a dangerous way guaranteed to intimidate that I'd mastered as a Green Beret; I added as I gave him my most pernicious stare, "Anyone that would persist in such a rumor just might incur the wrath of my Special Ops alumni." I turned to the rest of the press, and laughingly added, "Those of you who know the capabilities of the Green Berets know that no one would ever want to incur their fury." I turned back to Kenesis, locked eyes with him so he'd know I'd just leveled a serious threat at him. I turned again and smiled at the rest of the press in the room to keep the mood light. As far as I could tell, people accepted that he'd been baiting us, and that there was no story there.

One woman wrenched the microphone away from Kenesis with a nasty look at him because he'd gotten away with asking more than one question. She fired a question at Tina in her role as Executive VP of Talent Development for Sony Entertainment. They had an animated discussion about our next albums and how sales of our current hits were going. Another reporter captured the microphone next. He said, "Roy Gallant, Dallas Morning News. Many of us want to know where you're headed next on your road trip? We've been following your journey across the country - plotted out by where you've been sighted, and it looks like a drunken chicken walked across the map. We hear about where you've been after you've left. So, my question is where are you going next?

I responded with a chuckle, "The next state I'm headed to is New Mexico, but there's a lot of Texas to cross to get there, and I'm not exactly sure about my route or stopovers. Texas has a lot to offer on the way. The weather determines most of that, particularly this time of year. And, yes, I'm ultimately heading for California." The reporter gave me a 'thank you' sign, and sat down. I looked at Crystal and added, "It'd be nice to have a riding companion for the next leg of my trip."

Crystal made reached over and took my hand to show she appreciated the offer. A few cameras flashed at her gesture.

Quick as a flash, another press member jumped to her feet: "Gail Redstone, Vancouver Sun. Jim, have you ever thought about a Trans-Canadian trip - we have ten beautiful provinces and three fascinating territories up north that I'm sure you'd enjoy." A ripple of laughter occurred.

Crystal jumped in and said with a big smile, "I love Canada. Maybe we'll honeymoon up there someday real soon." She laughed aloud as the entire room gasped, and their pencils started to scribble, and then they all simultaneously realized her second comment was more of a tease than a juicy piece of gossip. She laughed harder and waved her hand dismissively to indicate she'd been toying with them. The whole room laughed with us.

We got a couple of other questions about our albums, upcoming concerts, and willingness to experiment with other genres of music like rap. When we started to get repeat questions, Alan stepped in and ended the press conference. We'd been questioned for forty-five minutes. Crystal and I posed for a few pictures at the front of the room, some with members of the press, and then we started to head back to the tour bus.

As we left the room, Bart Kenesis blocked our passage in the hallway. Only a few other people were nearby. He said in voice dripping with venom, "You fuckers know what you did, and you stole property from me worth millions. I'll get even big time."

Crystal and I both feigned shock. So that others nearby could hear, I said, "Mr. Kessis is it? This is the second time tonight you have insulted my friends and me. We have done nothing to you to deserve your ire, and if you persist in making up stories about us I will take legal action to stop your attacks including a restraining order. I take it from your remarks that you saw something going on somewhere and think we had something to do with it. Make sure about what you saw before you make accusations." I'd purposely mispronounced his name.

Others started to gather around us as Kenesis started to speak again, but I held the floor. I poked my finger into his chest hard and said; "Tonight, Crystal identified you to me as someone who has been sneaking around her house, acting like a Peeping Tom, stalking her, and trespassing on private property." I lowered my voice to a near whisper only Kenesis could hear, even leaning in towards his right ear, "If I catch you in such an act, you will have not only the police to worry about - I will apply every special skill I ever learned ... and some of them can be deadly." I returned my voice to normal, "When she returns to Nashville, I've advised Miss Lee to get a restraining order against you. I consider you a bodily threat to her, and we will act accordingly. Please don't come near us again."