The tour bus idled at the curb like a sleeping beast, its engine rumbling low beneath the steady roar of airport traffic. Luggage had been stacked on the sidewalk in chaotic clusters—guitar cases, rolling duffels, lighting crates, and one suspiciously oversized pelican case that everyone had agreed not to ask Mark about.
Diesel leaned against the open bus door, arms folded, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. The man hadn’t said much all morning, but the tightness in his jaw and the unusually long sip of black coffee betrayed more than his usual stoicism.
“This it?” he asked flatly.
Gabriel, bouncing on his paws like a kid on Christmas, grinned. “This is it. Europe, baby.”
The instant the pack stepped out fully onto the curb, the terminal erupted.
Fans — dozens of them — seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Some had been lurking, phones ready. Others had tracked flights and hotel clues from online breadcrumbs. Within seconds, a growing swarm of shrieking voices, waving signs, and flailing selfie sticks had descended like a coordinated flash mob of enthusiasm.
Cassie ducked behind Rico to avoid a flying T-shirt. Maya caught it mid-air and tossed it back with a smirk. Jonah managed a perfect photo pose with three fans before security even noticed the growing storm.
Emily clung to her backpack and beamed like someone living inside a dream. She turned to Thane, who had shouldered his laptop bag like a battle-hardened general. “My mom said to tell you thank you again. And to keep me away from suspicious cheese in foreign countries.”
Thane chuckled. “No promises.”
Mark — stoic as ever — held the door as airport security arrived in a panic to begin funneling the band through VIP entry lanes. Flashbulbs popped. Screams echoed. A kid held up a handmade sign that said TAKE ME WITH YOU TO LONDON, I’LL BE QUIET, I SWEAR.
Gabriel stopped, took a selfie with him, and slipped the kid a signed guitar pick before security herded him forward.
Diesel didn’t move until Thane approached.
“We’ll be back in a few weeks,” Thane said, gripping Diesel’s hand in a firm shake. “Keep her warm for us.”
Diesel gave a short nod. “I’ll babysit the beast.”
“You sure you don’t want a souvenir?” Gabriel called, bounding back to hug the old driver around the shoulders.
Diesel grunted. “If it’s not whiskey or peace and quiet, I don’t want it.”
“We’ll bring both,” Rico promised, already being dragged toward the check-in counter by a wave of fans and staff.
Thane turned back one last time as they passed into the terminal.
Diesel was still standing there, arms crossed, watching the chaos disappear through the sliding doors like it was the end of a very loud, very strange chapter.
Then he climbed back on the bus, muttering to himself.
“Idiots.”
With affection.