Page 78 of No Funny Business

Back on the road with the sun bright overhead, gentler rock music on the radio, and the steady rhythm of the road, I pass out. Next thing I know, the Jeep comes to a stop and a hot, smoky breeze wafts over my face. And where there’s smoke, there’s Nick burning up his lungs. I drag in a deep, polluted breath and take in the city stoplight ahead.

“Are we in Dallas?” I ask, sliding my fingers behind my lenses, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

Nick extinguishes his cigarette and exhales what’s left out the window. “Yep, just a few blocks from the club. We have to stop by and get the condo keys from Bob.”

“Damn, I was really out,” I say, recognizing the soft melody on the radio—“The Flame” by Cheap Trick. “Was I snoring?”

Nick smirks. “What do you think?”

“I bet you’ll be glad to have your Jeep all to yourself again next week.”

“Eh, I kinda like having you around.” He takes his eyes off the road and smiles at me. My heart flutters and I can’t help but respond with my own dopey smile. It’ll be weird not to see him so much. Will our friendly Jerry-and-Elaine relationship continue in New York? Will we be more? Then again, he’s a road warrior and surely within a few weeks he’ll be traveling with a new feature. But, he did just say he likes when I’m around. So I ask, “Does that mean you want me on your next tour?”

His gaze returns to the highway. “Actually, I decided to take some time off the road for a while.”

“Really?” Not at all the answer I was expecting. I want to ask if that means he’s planning to hang out with me in the city. Does he like the idea of going to farmers’ markets together on Saturday mornings and playing Funnies on Saturday nights as much as I do? I might be brave enough to make a fool of myself onstage in front of strangers every night but I’m not quite brave enough to ask Nick if he feels the same about me.

“Oh, hey, it’s right up here.” Nick points ahead, turning the corner toward Classics Comedy Nightclub. “You’re gonna love this place. Bob is a class act. Super nice guy. He opened this place back in 1985, I think.”

“Wow, this place is older than I am. How many times have you performed here?”

“I think this is number six.”

“Damn, you drove all the way from New York to Dallas six times?” No wonder he wants some time off.

“Not exactly. I’ll usually fly out. Do some shows here, Houston, a couple in El Paso... Wait. What the hell!” Nick and I gawk at the scene from the Classics Comedy Nightclub parking lot.

I gasp. “Oh my god.”

Red-and-yellow flashing lights flicker atop fire trucks and other service vehicles. What I imagine was once a lone brick building is now charred around the edges. The melted marquee is hardly recognizable with the roof partially caved in. Wispy clouds of black smoke smolder out the openings like a poor man’s chimney. Our gig gone up in flames.

A total disaster.

So much for my reprieve.