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"Um," Adam said. It seemed to sum up the situation pretty well, the situation being his complete lack of any idea where they were, why, and what to do from here.
"Adam," Tommy said tightly.
"So this is weird. Ha ha," Adam added, attempting to break the tension.
Judging by his band's frozen stares, it wasn't really working. Adam felt a chill run through his spine. Although on second thought, that might have been caused by the three feet of snow they were wading in. And the snow on the trees. And the snow on the stones. And the snow on the wooden platform, which was apparently supposed to be their stage. Adam knew this because of the plank hammered to one of the corners that said: STAGE.
Monte cleared his throat. "I know I said this last time, but now I swear, Adam, I'm not letting your mom book us any more shows."
"In my defense," Adam said, "when she told me we'd have to go through a wardrobe, I thought she'd meant wardrobe adjustments."
Cam went prodding behind the stage, leaving a thick trail in the snow. "There's no place for me to plug in my keys."
Monte frowned and joined her. "Or my guitar," he confirmed.
Tommy hugged his bass closer and gave Adam a dark look.
Longineu shrugged and twirled a drumstick. "I'm still good to go."
"Okay, look, I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks," Adam said with forced cheer. It was time to take charge. "It's only one show, and we'll spend then night in the—"
His mom had booked them an inn, and while there did not seem to be one in the area – the stage was stationed in a snowy clearing in the middle of the woods – they could definitely, like, find a cave and cuddle for warmth. Definitely. And snow was good for preserving heat, everyone knew that.
"—we'll spend the night and be back home in the morning," he finished firmly, because confidence was eighty percent of making things happen.
His band were giving him skeptic looks.
"And we could go acoustic," he said, now with a tinge of desperation. "We've done acoustic before. We fucking rock at acoustic. Plus, look, they've already set up chairs. Clearly we're expected."
"Uh, Adam," Cam said. "I don't think those are chairs." She swallowed. "I think that's our audience."
As one, they all peered closer at the, okay, slightly lumpy oddly shaped stones that Adam had taken for seats, and instead suddenly looked more like… stones that used to be alive.
"And now we've gone from weird to fucking creepy," Adam said, "okay, maybe it's time to just pack up and—"
"Sons of Adam," came a voice from the trees, revealed after a moment to belong to a beautiful woman dressed in a long white gown that would have looked gorgeous on Brad.
That was Adam's first thought. His second was that there was something absolutely terrifying about her smile, and that he was never going to let his mom book them another gig ever.
"Just Adam, actually," he said nervously. "And these aren’t my sons."
"Especially not me," Cam pointed out, but Adam noticed she was trying to hide behind Tommy who was trying to hide behind her, so her confidence was probably at least partially a front. Adam didn't know whether or not that made him feel better.
The woman's eyed widened slightly. "Adam himself," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. Adam shivered. "This is... a most unexpected turn of events."
She whistled, something shrill and musical that sliced the midwinter air. A carriage pulled up to a halt almost instantaneously, bells still ringing and echoing in the forest when it stopped moving.
The woman climbed in gracefully. "Step inside," she said. It didn't feel like she was leaving too much room for argument. "We have much in store for you."
Adam exchanged a long look with his band. Monte was the first one to break, hoisting his guitar and climbing into the carriage.
"Adam," Tommy hissed, as he followed Adam inside.
"I know, I know." Adam leaned back and closed his eyes. Seriously this time. "I am not letting my mom near our tour schedule again."