Parts 4, 5

“Elliott, there’s really not much to tell. He’s just really, really nice. We ate, we talked, I drove him back to his hotel, I came home. I had a good time.” Clare held the phone clamped between her ear and shoulder, talking as she performed routine Saturday maintenance on the pool.

“If there isn’t much to tell, then please explain why you weren’t home until after four, missy?” Elliott inquired. When she’d gotten in the night before, there had been six messages on her machine. Three had been from Elliott, two from Fiona, and one from her brother Mitch. Mitch had merely been calling to double-check the date of her launch, as he was trying to plan a vacation. Fi and Elliott, of course, were waiting to pounce on her to get the story on her date.

“We got back late because we left late. Simple enough math there, and it was Dailey’s. Not like eating at McDonald’s, exactly. Hang on.” She set the phone down and banged the filter basket against the fence, replaced it, and picked the receiver up again. “Okay. So, yeah, he’s. . .nice,” she told Elliott. “Easy to talk to, it was fun.”

“So are you going out again?” Elliott knew better than to ask for any kind of intimate detail.

Clare was trying to figure out an answer that would satisfy Ell without giving too much away. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention he’s Rush’s drummer and in fact I’m going to the concert tonight” wouldn’t do for a variety of reasons. Fortunately call waiting buzzed just then.

“Ells, let me see who’s on the other line.”

“Get rid of them and come back. It’s probably Fi anyway. I know you’re withholding information. . .”

She ignored Elliott’s last remark and transferred her attention to the caller on the other line. “Hello?”

“Hello yourself. Please tell me I didn’t wake you.” Neil sounded as if he’d not long been awake himself, but Clare could tell he was smiling. So was she.

“No, I’ve been up for a bit. Cleaning the pool, in fact.” She took a seat on one of the deck chairs.

“Aren’t you the industrious one?” he teased. “Anyway, I don’t know if you had anything specific in mind as far as getting together; I need several gallons of coffee myself to start off, but after that I can be ready whenever you are. That is, if you’re still up for it.”

Clare actually did have something in mind, but she needed help to make it work, and had not quite figured out how to manage that. “I am,” she told Neil, “ and I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure how workable it is. Trust me. Backup plan, we can go to Galveston Island, hang on the beach, see a few cool things, get back here in time for you to go to work. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Better than okay. You want me to come out there again, or another plan?”

“How about I pick you up? By then I’ll have the plan scripted. Give me about an hour and a half; I’m coated in pool slime and chemicals and need a shower.”

She heard a click. Oops, Elliott. She bade Neil a hasty goodbye, called Elliott back and apologized. “E, I’m sorry. That was Neil. No excuse, but I kinda forgot you were there.”

“Ah hah, so it’s Neil, huh? So the mystery guy has a name.” Elliott was clearly pleased with himself for having extracted this information from Clare. “And I’m guessing he just now called to make plans with you again?”

Clare didn’t answer immediately; she was thinking hard about how to make her original plan for the day work. Decision time; Elliott could be of assistance.

“Yes, he did. Now, Elliott, shut up and let me talk. I need your help here, but you have GOT to keep this quiet. . .”

She told him everything, minus the details of their initial meeting. “So there you have it, the story so far,” she concluded. “And now, I really, really need you to help me out here. Please, Elliott.”

“Quit begging, missy. It’s very not you. And I’ll make a couple calls, sure, don’t see there being any kind of an issue. During the week, possibly, especially if you wanted to keep it low-key. But now, on a Saturday? For Neil Peart? I’m not promising anything, but let me get back to you. The only problem I can foresee is that they’re possibly having to push the launch back because of the cooling system issue, “ Elliott told her. “But that generally doesn’t affect training.”

“Wait,” Clare was confused. “How did you know what I was going to ask you?”

“It’s my awesome powers of inferential reasoning. That, and the fact that I can read you like a book. You do know that this has the potential to cause a little excitement? That Rush are kind of a subcult at work? I myself can take them or leave them, but I’m in the minority.”

Clare sighed. “I gathered as much. So it goes without saying I don’t want everyone finding out and descending like flies. If you can think of a way to prevent that. . .oh, hell, I probably ought to just scrap it and take him to Galveston for the day.”

“No, quit wigging out, missy,” Elliott told her. “Give me a few, I told you. Go ahead and get ready, and I’ll have it all worked out by the time you’re finished shaving your legs. Just chill.”

“All right,” Clare told him doubtfully. “I trust you.”

“You’d better. Now go. Call me in, oh, say, a half hour. I’ll have an answer for you.”

Clare picked Neil up at the same door where she’d dropped him the previous night. “Hey there, pretty lass,” he greeted her. He kissed her, then settled back in the passenger seat . “Do I get to find out where we’re going?”

“That would be negative, sir,” Clare replied. “I have complete and utter faith that you’ll enjoy yourself, though.” She gave him her mysterious look, eliciting a laugh, then reversed the car and zipped back to the freeway.

Ten minutes later Neil spotted the entrance sign for Johnson Space Center. “You’re. . .we’re. . .are we?”

Clare shifted gears, then inclined her head towards him. “Yup. I wasn’t sure if this was kosher on short notice, since there is a mission crew in training right now and their launch status is in question because of a cooling system issue. And I don’t know the CDR well enough to ask if it would be a bother.”

“CDR?”

“Commander, sorry. And you’ll hear the pilot referred to as the PLT, even though “pilot” has fewer syllables, and the mission specialists are just MS’s most of the time. Anyway, I don’t know Mike except in passing, but my friend Elliott writes a lot of the training programming. He’s also a simulation supervisor. Also known as SIMSUP. He set it up for us; the crew is fine with it. I can also show you around the space station simulator and some other trainers in here.”

Neil was nearly speechless with delight. “This is amazing,” he finally managed. “I have to say, it didn’t cross my mind that this is what you might be planning.”

“So you’re sure you wouldn’t rather just go to Galveston? It’s not too late, I can always turn around,” Clare teased. She turned down Avenue C into the mostly empty lot behind the Garn Training Facility and parked the car.

“Don’t you dare!” Neil looked like a kid who’d just been told he was going to Disney World.

“Well, then, welcome to geek gadget heaven,” Clare slammed the car door and gave a dramatic sweep with one arm. “Elliott’s going to meet us up front, let’s go.”

Elliott was waiting just inside the door. Clare was about to make introductions but her friend beat her to it, extending a hand in Neil’s direction. “I’m Elliott Gatewood, nice to meet you.” Neil shook his hand firmly. “Neil Peart, and I want to thank you now for coming out here to set this up.” If Neil was at all uncomfortable, Clare thought, he was doing a good job of hiding it.

“It was no trouble at all,” Clare’s best friend replied, leading the way. “I might as well warn you, you are expected. I talked it over with missy here, and we agreed it probably was best we didn’t surprise everyone. They’re adults, or they’re supposed to be, but I kind of figured they’d be a little less starstruck, so to speak, with some time to get used to the idea. It’s been kept quiet, just me and the folks who are already here working. And Missy of course.” Indicating Clare.

“I appreciate the advance notice, and it’s fine,” Neil assured Elliott. “You were right, up front is the better choice has been my experience. This is something I’ve been wanting to see for a while, but it isn’t on the regular-guy tour, so I’m still kind of dumbfounded that this is happening. Did Clare happen to tell you how she met me?”

Elliott swiped a plastic card through a reader on the doorjamb and waited for the buzz. “She told me you snuck away from your tour group and sort of got lost, yes.” He opened the door and ushered Neil through first, then held the door for Clare. As she passed, he nudged her arm. “He’s HOT! Nice ass,” he mouthed. Clare flushed and stifled a giggle, then threw a sharp elbow into Elliott’s ribs.

“Ow! You little bitch.”

“Shut up, dick munch! You asked for it,” Clare hissed at him, then hurried to catch up to Neil, who had stopped a few paces ahead. She couldn’t help noticing that Elliott was right. Neil did indeed have a very nice rear end.

She touched his back lightly. “Ignore Elliott. He’s never grown up.”

But Neil wasn’t paying attention; instead, he was staring wide-eyed at the variety of scale training modules and simulators in front of him. “This,” he declared, “is like an amusement park for grownups.”

“No shit,” Elliott agreed. “I’ve been here six years and I’m still impressed. Let me tell the guys we’re here.”

There was no need to announce their arrival, though; heads were already peeking out of the simulator and it was obvious that Neil’s visit had generated a considerable amount of excitement. Mike Chavez, the Commander, was the first to make the approach, hand extended.

“Mr. Peart, Mike Chavez. Nice to meet you. Might as well tell you I’m a fan, and it’s a privilege to have you visit here.”

“It’s Neil, and the privilege is mine. I really appreciate you letting me interrupt here.” Neil shook Mike’s hand, and the exchange emboldened the rest of the crew, who had been hanging back like shy middle-schoolers at their first school dance. They came forward and introduced themselves. Clare could see now that Neil felt a little awkward at being the center of attention, but she didn’t know how to ease the tension.

Elliott did. “Neil is under the impression that this is all very serious and precise and technical,” he explained. “So let’s see how quickly we can change that perception. For once there’s a VIP here who can’t cut our funding because he thinks we’re having too much fun.”

“Oh, that is NO problem,” Mike answered with a laugh. “Neil, Ell’s right; usually it’s senators and the like, and we have to really put on an act for those guys. So having you here is a welcome change of pace. Come on, let’s give you the look around. Meantime, Elliott will go load up some programs and you can get an idea of what the liftoffs and landings are like. We can reproduce everything here except, of course, the weightlessness. . .” Still talking, he motioned for Neil and the others to follow.

Clare turned to Elliott. “Thanks,” she whispered. “You always know how to bust right through the ice.”

“Some have it, some don’t,” he whispered back at her. “Now go keep up with your boyfriend there. Chavvie’s a good guy. I’ll be back here, doing my SIMSUP magic. And nice going. I like the guy.”

Clare turned to catch up with the crew and saw that Neil was already noticeably more relaxed; he was asking a question of Charlie Metfield, the shuttle pilot for this crew. “So do I, Elliott,” she mumbled as she walked away. “So do I.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Elliott, you look like a contortionist back there,” Neil observed, laughing, as he fastened his seat belt. “Don’t think I could manage that.” The three of them were on their way to The Outpost for a quick drink before Neil had to be at the venue for pre-show prep. He’d clearly enjoyed the entire experience and so had the crew; in fact, it was harder to tell who’d had more fun. Nobody had committed any embarrassing acts of “rock star worship” either, which was a relief. Within a half hour of being introduced, Neil had been laughing and joking with the astronauts as if he’d been coming to work there for years.

“Yeah, well, I can only just fit because Clare sits on the damn dashboard,” Elliott replied, knees nearly in his face. “On the one hand, I wish she wouldn’t, because it isn’t safe, as I’ve told her. But it’s like talking to a wall. Anyway, it is convenient on the odd occasion when I have to ride back here.”

“You do sit rather close,” Neil observed. “What if the airbag goes off?”

“What is this, an OSHA inspection? Because what isn’t safe is sitting too far away to reach the accelerator and brake, “ Clare pointed out. “Besides, I had the airbag disabled. I’m short, it’s a safety thing, backed up by solid government research, no less. And Neil, you need to know that Elliott, Mister Safety Expert here, drives a pickup for the sole reason that it excludes him from the mandatory seatbelt law.” The Jaguar’s wheels crunched into the gravelled lot of The Outpost.

“I can’t believe you pulled off a cleaner landing than I did.” Clare told Neil once they were seated with drinks in front of them. Then she glared at Elliott. “You had something to do with that, I know you did. You fiddled the program,” she accused.

“I did nothing of the sort. You brought down bad karma on yourself by laughing at Neil,” was Elliott’s response. As promised, Mike had walked Neil through shuttle liftoffs and landings in the simulator and then allowed him to try it himself. Predictably, Neil’s first couple of attempts had been complete simulated disasters, and Clare had nearly collapsed with laughter. After Neil’s third try, which by consensus had been acceptable if a bit turbulent, Mike had looked at Clare, then at Neil, and said, “Want to take a smartass MS down a few notches? Because I do.” Clare had reluctantly taken a seat at the controls and, while she hadn’t crashed, she’d had a pretty rough “landing”.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a pilot,” Clare defended herself.

“Neither am I,” Neil pointed out gleefully, and turned to Elliott. “Are you going to be at the show tonight with Clare?” He had thoughtfully extended the invitation, complete with backstage access, to everyone he’d met that day. “If you have any interest,” he’d added, worried that it might seem he was showing off. Clare could have told him to ditch the concern – they jumped at the offer.

Elliott squirmed uncomfortably. “Well, it isn’t that I don’t like the music, or that I don’t appreciate the offer, but” –

Neil rescued him. “No offense taken. Tastes differ. Don’t worry about it,” he assured. “I was just hoping I could repay you somehow for dragging you to work on a Saturday.”

“It’s not the music, I can’t stand huge crowds of strangers,” was Elliott’s explanation. “Now, Fiona would be all over this like white on rice.”

“Well, tell her she’s welcome,” Neil suggested.

Fiona was already at the park, “just hanging around with other fans”, when Clare called her to extend Neil’s invitation. She didn’t believe a word of it.

“I’m calling bullshit,” she said firmly. “Yesterday you barely knew who Rush were. Now you have personal invitations from Neil Peart – including backstage, which everybody knows doesn’t happen. Sorry, I’m not buying it. Either you and Elliott are bored and are pulling my leg, in which case you're dead come Monday morning, or you’re getting duped. You wouldn’t know Neil Peart if he walked up to you and planted a big sloppy tongue kiss on you.”

“Ih , um, “ Clare was caught completely off-guard by the Fiona’s innocently accurate remark. “Fiona, just trust me. There’s nothing to lose. You already have a ticket, correct? So if I’m full of shit, or if I’ve been played, it’s not like you’re suddenly out of luck. But it’s your call.”

Silence from the other end of the connection, and for a second Clare thought the call had been dropped. “Lefty,” Fiona said slowly, a funny pitch to her voice, “I’m having a thought here. Is the guy from out of town, that you had the date with last night, is that Neil Peart? Is that why you’ve been so evasive about the subject? I am not believing it, necessarily, but this whole situation, that’s the only thing that would begin to make any sense. For starters, Rush do not give backstage passes. Ever. It’d be easier to get a tour of the pope's living quarters at the Vatican.”

She took Clare’s non-response in the affirmative. “Ho-lllyyyy shiiiit. Is he with you right now?”

“Yes,” Clare replied. “No, I’m not putting him on the phone. You’ll just have to believe me. And show up to meet us at the players’ entrance at six.” She looked helplessly at Elliott, then at Neil. “She’s figured it out,” she mouthed at Neil. He gave a slight nod, a look of amusement on his face.

“Okay. I’ll be there. Shit, Lefty, you HAVE to tell me how this all happened, and by the way I’m sitting with Fergie, I can’t just abandon him without telling him why, he bought the tickets?” Fiona’s tone of disbelief had changed to one of near-frenzied excitement. Clare hoped she’d be her usual composed, cool self by six o’clock.

“Hang on. . .” Clare held the phone away from her. “Neil, problem” –

“Tell her to bring her date, of course.” Neil seemed on the verge of laughter, but not in an unkind way. “I can hear everything she’s saying.”

“Fi, you can bring Ferg, “ Clare relayed. “Now look, this needs to be kept kind of quiet. Classified information only, and just pretend that NO ONE has that kind of clearance under their pay grade.”

“Yesnoproblemabsolutely. Top secret, classified.” She’s going to die from hyperventilation within a half-hour, Clare thought. But Fi managed to salvage a few threads of sanity, because she ended the call by saying, “And Lefty, if this is some kind of awful joke, if you’re just goofing off, you will pay. Understand that. You do not fuck around with me about anything Rush-related.”

“Never, Fiona. I promise. It’s all on the level. See you at six.” She hung up and slumped forward, banging her forehead on the wood table. “Oh Jesus, Neil. I’m sorry if this is getting out of hand,” she groaned. “ Fiona’s pretty normal, most of the time, I promise. And Fergie’s another astronaut, by the way, just a friend as far as I know, not her date. Also normal.”

Neil reached across the table and gave Clare’s braid an affectionate tug. “Ach, lass, don’t worry about it. Really, it’s not the same as having a bunch of random strangers mobbing the bus or the like, cornering me when I'm trying to buy toilet paper. That’s the kind of thing that makes me uncomfortable. Your friends went out of their way to entertain me this afternoon, and I wish I had a better way of showing my appreciation. As it is, this is the least I can do by way of recompense.”

“Oh, hell, Neil,” Elliott assured him, “they consider it more than an even trade.” He finished the last of his beer. “Another round, anyone?”

“No way,” Clare said. “I’m driving, remember? You guys go ahead.”

Neil declined a second scotch as well, saying he needed to think about “going to work”, as he put it. He insisted on picking up the tab, small though it was, and the three of them crammed back into Clare’s car. As Elliott was getting out, he gave Clare a discreet thumbs-up and nodded slightly. The Gatewood Official Stamp of Approval.

“Nice guy,” was Neil’s comment as soon as the door was closed and Elliott was safely in his truck. “I gather you two are pretty tight?” He asked the question casually enough, but Clare picked up on the unspoken query beneath.

The remark surprised Clare, not so much because of Neil’s tone, but because the idea of any romantic connection was so completely out of the question to anyone who knew Clare and Elliott. But then again, Neil barely knew either of them, so she explained.

“I’ve known Elliott literally since I was in utero. He’s two years older than me, but I skipped a couple of grades in school. And my mom died right after I was born, and Dad didn’t remarry until I was fourteen, so his mom practically raised me. She had no choice, come to think of it, since I was at their house night and day anyway. It’s thanks to her I didn’t turn into some spoiled brat juvenile delinquent. But yes, he’s my best friend. Also he’s gay. Am I taking you to the hotel or the park, by the way?”

“Sorry, the park,” Neil clarified, then put his hand over Clare’s on the gear shift. “Elliott’s gay? I thought being an astronaut was sort of like being in the military . That is to say, I was under the impression they wouldn’t exactly be searching out gay people to join the ranks.”

“It wasn’t easy for Ells at first,” Clare agreed. “There really wasn’t anything outward, as far as discrimination or homophobia or anything, but you could tell it ruffled some feathers. But after he’d been here a couple of years, people got to know him, and I like to think no one much gives it any thought anymore. He got assigned to a crew finally – just yesterday, in fact – so that’s a big step forward.”

“I’m glad it’s worked out for him.” Neil changed the subject. “I’m glad you’re going to be there tonight, but I must confess I’m a bit anxious about it. Women seem to either love us or hate us with a passion, for some reason. More the latter, I’m afraid.”

“I”- Clare had started to reassure Neil that she was looking forward to the concert, but instead she was ambushed by an enormous yawn.

“Uh-oh, not exactly the response I’d hoped for. Tired?”

Clare laughed. “No, I mean yes, a little. That took me by surprise. I guess I am a little sleep-deprived after last night. I meant no, don’t worry, I know I’ll have fun. I just need to wake my ass up.”

“Why don’t you just take my hotel room and grab a nap?” Neil suggested. It was such an unexpected reply that Clare nearly missed the exit to the park and had to swerve across two lanes.

“Seriously,” Neil went on. “No one else is there, you won’t be bothered, and it’ll save you time driving home and back. I can fix it so you can just use the same entrance and you won’t have a problem getting in. Unless you have some reason to go back home?”

They were at Minute Maid Park now, and Clare pulled around behind to the players’ entrance, navigating carefully around the fleet of eighteen wheelers and buses. “Well, I’d planned to change clothes, but no, I guess no pressing need.”

“Well, then, here’s the key.” Neil placed the Westin card on her dash. His voice grew softer. “You’re absolutely beautiful, lass, no need to change clothes. Besides, I confess to ulterior motives. I want you awake and alert AFTER the show. You can let me out here.” He unsnapped his seatbelt, then pulled her to him for a long, slow kiss. No hiding this time. Any one of the seemingly dozens of crew and staff milling about could have seen them. Clare dwelled on this briefly, but decided she didn’t care and kissed him back with equal fervor.

“Have a nice nap, lass. I’ll make sure no one gives you any grief, but on the remote chance there’s a problem, call. I’ll keep an eye on the phone.” Before getting out Neil reached over and pushed a few stray bangs out of her eyes, then leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose and gave her a wink. For some reason, this simple gesture made her knees go weak, and she was glad she was seated. “See you tonight,” she managed.

She glanced in the rearview mirror just before turning back to get on the freeway. Neil was still standing in the same spot, watching her drive off. She gave a wave, but he was too far away to see. Already she was anticipating seeing him again, and the feeling gave her a sort of elated thrill.

It also, she realized a few minutes later, scared the shit out of her.