A swarm of fan girls had grown antsy waiting for Jay to slow-poke it on over to the Chevy Main Stage, and were throwing beer bottles into the air, pulling each other's hair, and fighting for proximity.
As Jay arrived at the designated parking spot, his two bodyguards leapt onto the platform, jumped to the sideboards, opened the doors mid-flight, and launched themselves protectively into Jay's monster truck.
Lucy, hearing a door thump before opening, rolled herself forwards underneath the front seat in the nick of time. Jay felt her head brush against his boots, glanced in the rear view mirror, and sighed with relief.
"We're taking it up," the bodyguards said, buckling their seatbelts.
"Up?!" Jay careened his neck forward to look at the giant display of Chevrolets hoisted at various and incredible heights above ground on a platform behind the stage.
He swallowed.
"That way," the bodyguards said, pointed precariously to the right, and dramatically up.
Jay felt Lucy's hands wrap around his left ankle, and he tucked it closer to her as she closed her eyes.
He secured his seatbelt, tipped his brow to the orange-vested safety worker flagging him up a just-lowered entry ramp, and put it back in drive.
Lucy's face, absurdly close to the bottom of Jay's boot, suddenly flexed.
Oh no.
Her nose twitched.
Please God.
Don't let me sneeze...
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