Stuck In Lodi

"Maybe I should get married in black."

Trish carefully folded the opposite end of Amy's gown toward the center. "Do you think Matt's as alternative as Jeff?"

"I wish," Amy said, picking up her other suitcase and heaving that over her shoulder. Pausing for a moment, she asked, "Hey, you do have a ride to Santa Monica?"

"Victoria's taking me. She's paying for half the rental, and we'll be rooming together." Trish paused as she slipped the black gown back onto its coat hanger and helped Amy zip up the garment bag. "We're going to make a weekend of it, see some sites, go to the beach."

"Oh man, I wish I didn't have to do publicity with Glenn."

"Why? He seems to be a pretty nice guy."

"Oh, he is. He's just incredibly boring."

"So he likes military history and knows too much about Elvis Presley..."

"So? We have nothing in common! It's a two day trip by car from video store to video store, and we have to keep up the work the whole time!"

"Well, maybe you'll attract the attention of a producer. All of this storyline experience has got to nail you an Emmy at some point."

Amy laughed aloud, filling the cavernous, white-walled multi-purpose room with the crinkle of a garment bag being hoisted over a shoulder.


***

Five minutes after their rental car skidded to the shoulder, Amy realized that Glenn Jacobs was not just an exacting man, not just a punctual man, but an individual of supreme self-possession.

She hated him for it. Hated him for his calm, cool demeanor and his incessant talk of the Charge of the Light Brigade and his insistence on keeping the radio on NPR.

And she REALLY hated him for whatever he did that had attracted that police officer's attention a mile back.

He groped for his license, then checked the rear-view. A short, very young looking, sandy-haired man with a pot belly strode up to the car in confidence. Glenn smiled, his expression wry.

"If he takes me in, the stash is on YOU."

"Thanks."

Glenn rolled down his window, and the officer peered into the car. "License and registration please?"

He handed them over. The officer squinted at it, read the back, and said: "I'm gonna need you to step out of the car."

Amy smiled beatifically; tiny needlepoints of sweat appeared over Glenn's face. "What did I do wrong, officer?"

"You know very well what you did wrong! Forcin' this girl to marry you!"

Amy could see Glenn's brow raise in the overhead mirror.

"I don't know what you mean, Sir.."

"Get out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them."

Amy's eyes locked upon the policeman's holster. He was reaching for his gun.

She didn't need to tell Glenn to get out of the car. He almost stumbled over himself as he threw open the door and pressed the front of his body to the ground, bending himself in a submissive position.

It occurred to Amy that he had been arrested before.

"I'm gonna hold you for falsifying your identification! Thought you were gonna get away with it, huh?! Well, not under Deputy Charlie Cossaway's watch!"

Glenn winced as a pair of handcuffs were tightened around his wrists.

"You're free to go, Lita."

Startled by his use of her stage name, Amy managed a false smile.

"I said, you're free to go. Aren't you gonna go look for Matt Hardy?"

A look of glazed panic crossed Amy's features; there was no way for the Deputy to know that Matt was currently in the middle of a lake with Adam Copeland, trying to reel in a largemouth bass.

"I don't know where he is." She lied. "And KANE wouldn't let me use a phone."

"That's a dirty shame, ma'am. We have a phone at the station, if you wouldn't mind a ride with this scumbag."

"No, I wouldn't. Thank you." She watched the Deputy yank Glenn by the handcuffs over to his cruiser; half his weight and height, Glenn could have easily injured the officer in a fight. Only his respect for the law of the land kept him in submission.

As the deputy radioed in his arrest, Amy caught Glenn's eye. The self-deprecating smile returned, and he mouthed two words.

"Call Vince."



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