by Henry, Max
“You sent the details to Toby two hours ago telling him to call you so he could direct you to the right terminal.”
Emery frowns, finally righting his shirt. “What?”
“He phoned but said you were so drunk you disconnected, and he couldn’t get you to answer again. So, he called Jasper thinking it would be quicker than coming himself, and now here I am.”
The moron tugs out his phone and checks the screen. I take it from the grunt my story has been confirmed.
“You got a few missed calls, huh?”
“And because Jasper’s bandmates hate me, he sends the fucking devil to do his dirty work.” With a tortured groan, Emery shoves off the pillar and rises to his feet.
I’m met with a waft of body odor that I could have quite frankly done without at this time of night. “Don’t flatter yourself. Jasper sent me because he’s currently two hours out of town.”
One booted foot after the other, Emery slowly ambles toward the check-in.
I take after him when he gains momentum, showing no sign of slowing. “What are you doing?”
“Buying another ticket.”
“Hey.” I jog in front of him, stalling his mission with a flat palm to his chest. “You need a shower first, I’m guessing something solid to eat, and probably some water.”
“Got to head home, Alice.” He attempts to move around me yet ends up in the exact same spot when he sways to steady his balance.
“Why do you need to get back so urgently? Kris said you guys aren’t in the studio for a few weeks yet.”
One-by-one, he peels my fingers off his pec. “Unlike you, I have somebody who wants me there.”
Ouch. “Still with that bitch, huh?” He steamrolls past, resuming his crusade to return to the ice queen. “Emery, stop.” I should not be even considering this. “We can give you a ride to our next stop, and you can jump on a plane there. It’ll give you time to freshen up before you get home.”
He laughs, reaching the end of the queue. “Yeah. Sure. Like there’s no catch to that offer.” The lady in front of him turns, gives him the once over, and promptly adds more space between them.
I had figured I could use the good deed as leverage when I try to weasel us something out of Dark Tide’s management for this, but … “No catch. I’m just aware they won’t let you on board like this, and I don’t feel right leaving you alone in this state.” I sweep a hand the length of him.
“So, I need a shower.” He shrugs. “What’s the big deal?”
“You’re clearly still drunk.”
He curls his lip and scoffs at me. “Am not.”
I close the space between us, set my hands on his shoulders, and turn him to face the sign that shows he lined up for a flight to Canada.
Still, he just shrugs. “Might be a nice break away.”
“You were gagging to get home a second ago,” I answer flatly. Emery allows me to turn him toward the exit. “Stop trying to be a hero and just come with me.”
“Nope. Don’t wanna.” His boots bite into the carpet.
Yep. The travelers couldn’t give two shits when he was damn near passed out against the pillar, but now that I’m here to take care of things, they’re all eyes.
“Got an issue with this?” I snarl at some middle-aged John with cufflinks that are probably worth more than my entire wardrobe.
Emery snickers.
I give him a shove. “Move.”
“You never used to be this bossy,” he remarks, allowing his feet to work.
“I never used to have a reason.”
“Aw, shucks, baby.”
“Keep your pet names to yourself.” I forgo using both hands on his shoulders and slide my left hand into his. Mostly so I can block my nose with my right elbow. “I left my Uber waiting in the taxi rank. Hopefully, they haven’t murdered her for being on their turf.”
Emery chuckles again, dutifully following along as I yank him toward the automatic glass doors.
To my relief, Polly, a middle-aged mother who drives at night while her husband is home to watch the kids, still waits where I left her. Hopefully, striking up a friendly interaction with her on the way here paid off now that I shove a smelly, obnoxious man into the back seat of her pratical Pacifica.
“Thank you.” I drop into the front. “I hope you didn’t get too much grief.”
“Not at all.” She throws me a sly wink. “Looking like such a sweet little woman gets you left alone, most of the time.” She promptly spins to face Emery. “You, sir, need to buckle up before I go anywhere.”
He straightens in the seat, eyes widening. “Yes, Ma’am.”
I stifle my giggle by biting my bottom lip, relishing the sound of his buckle snapping together.
“Back to where I picked you up?” Sally checks.
“Yes, please.” I slide a crumpled twenty from my pocket and set it in her center console. “Just a bit extra because I really appreciate this.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
Emery snorts.
“Got a problem back there?” I turn to glare at the fucker as Polly eases onto the ring-road.
“She wasn’t this nice to me,” he tells our driver. “Just so you know.”
“I’m sure you gave her a good reason if she’s here at this hour of the night to save you.”
I love Polly.
“I didn’t ask her to,” Emery argues. “I was just fine where I was.”
“Yeah, okay.” I stare out the windscreen. “Whatever.”
He sighs, mumbling in a tone so low I don’t think he expected me to hear, “Nobody fucking believes I can look after myself.”
No. They don’t. Not as long as he’s incapable of proving he can.
Still as irresponsible as he was at seventeen.
Still just as arrogant, too.
SEVEN
Emery
“Bad Girls Club” – Falling in Reverse
“You said you were going out to get fucking tampons!” Fria screams the second she spots me walk on board behind Alice.
“Don’t you chicks share that shit or something?” I lean against the front of the bus and fold my arms, aiming for nonchalant and arrogant.
Truth is, if I don’t have something to prop me up, I’m liable to end up sprawled back down the steps. Alice may have been right: I’m still drunk. Enough, that Polly’s nippy driving almost had me staining her pristine interior.
“Do yourself a favor,” Alice snaps over her shoulder, “and keep your fucking mouth shut.”
Fria glares daggers from where she stands in the middle of the walkway as though she plans on stopping me from going any further.
“I couldn’t be assed with this”—Alice replies, waving her hand between the two girls—“before I left. So yeah, I lied. Sue me.”
“Ugh.” Fria storms off with a huff, damn near ripping the dividing curtain off its rail.
A head of bright red hair pops out of a bunk, staring after her. “What’s going on?” She swings her gaze our way, eyes widening. “Oh.”
“Emery.” Alice gestures to the redhead. “Meet Shanae.” She pins me with her dark-rimmed glare. “Don’t fuck her.”
Shanae laughs, loud and bubbly. I like her already. “As if you need to worry about that.” She gives me the once over before popping her head back in the bunk and calling out, “I can smell him from here.”
“Why the fuck does everyone have to keep mentioning my smell?” I push off the wall and regret it immediately.
Alice subtly sets her hand on the back of my arm, steadying me while she retorts. “Because, like I told you, you stink.” She gives me a shunt toward the narrow seat. “Wait there, and I’ll scavenge up a clean towel and some stuff you can use that won’t leave you smelling like a girl.”
“Such a good hostess,” I quip, taking the seat as ordered. Pretty sure I could be asleep again by the time she comes back.
Alice crams herself into the poky little bathroom behind the driver’s cubby, banging around while the said
chauffeur steps on board. The guy looks at least ninety in the shade, and thin enough that a stiff breeze would have him at the next town over before you could shout a word of warning.
“You girlies ready to go now?” He raises his travel mug my way, the fresh scent of burnt tobacco pouring off him.
My fingers itch on the knees of my jeans. I ran out of smokes about the time the Minute Suite politely asked me to leave. Would have got more, but the concession stands between where I was and where I gave up at the pillar were all closed for the night.
The sound of thundering feet precedes Fria tearing her way back into the main cabin. “He is not staying on between stops.”
“Give it a rest,” Alice calls from inside the cupboard that charades as a bathroom. “Take your wounded pride back to the rear where I can’t hear it.”
“My pride is not wounded,” Fria spits before flashing her rage-filled irises my way. “I just don’t like lying assholes.”
“When the fuck did I lie?”
“You never said you have a girlfriend.”
“Because you never asked,” I holler back.
“So, you lied by omission,” she snaps, hands to her hips.
I groan, rolling my eyes as I slide down the cushions. “Guess you lied too, then.”
“What?” Her face screws up tighter than a dog’s asshole.
“You never told me you’re a raging psycho, so …”
Fria lunges, yet Alice steps from the bathroom with perfect timing to cop the assault. “What the fuck?”
Her drummer backs up, hands raised, lips tight. “Sorry. I was after him.”
“You already had me,” I toss the nutter a wink around our intermediary.
The hot ones are always crazy.
“Let me set some ground rules,” Alice snaps. “While our wheels are rolling, everyone and I mean everyone”—She glares at Fria—“will get along.”
“Fine by me,” Shanae calls from her bunk.
“Are we leaving, then?” the old-timer asks, clarifying the mixed messages that are women in general.
“Yes,” Alice responds without turning to address him. “Thanks, Telly.”
Telly. Jesus. He sounds like he looks.
Fria storms back to her sanctuary with a huff, leaving me with Alice’s undivided attention. It’s frustrating and hot all at the same time. I can’t make sense of why.
“You need to call Toby,” she instructs. “But first.” The towel is hurled at my chest. “Shower.”
I toss a mock salute and then rise from the seat. She backs carefully away, sandwiching herself against the kitchenette counter opposite to keep our distance. I take one more step, just to fuck with her.
“Before you make me gag,” she adds.
I chuckle, relenting and heading into the glorified broom cupboard. “I got better ways to make you gag.”
“For fuck’s sake, Emery!”
***
I re-emerge after the water runs out, unsteady on my feet now that Telly navigates his way to the highway, with no more than the towel around my waist.
Alice lifts her head from where she’s engrossed in a book, slab of chocolate to her right, and raises an eyebrow.
“What?” I snap, searching the kitchenette for anything to alleviate the demolition crew that make a mess of my skull.
“You have no shame, do you?”
“Nope.” I pop the last two Advil in a packet and down them dry. “Should I be ashamed of my body?”
“I didn’t say that.” She sets the book aside. “I just don’t remember you being so brazen, is all.”
“I don’t think you remember much about me,” I bite, “because you were too preoccupied to see outside your own bullshit.”
Her face falls; only the snap of the chocolate as she breaks off another row fills the silence.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Avoiding the awkward shit that’s bound to ensue, I retreat back into the small bathroom and retrieve my dirty clothes.
They had a point: this shit stinks. Reason number one why I didn’t put any of it back on, not because I wanted them to see me as some cocky prick flaunting what he has.
Not that I’ll tell them that. Hot tip: if you're going to survive the night in a bus full of girls, never admit they were right.
About anything.
I exit to find Alice waiting with a used shopping bag held open between her hands. “I’m sorry that I was blunt at the airport,” she states, avoiding eye contact while I dump my clothes inside. “How is Deanna?”
“Still a bitch,” I say honestly, pulling a small smile from Alice. “Not much has changed. You still shouldn’t like her.”
She knots the top of the bag, setting it aside. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I point to my quarantined clothes. “I can’t get around in just a towel the whole time.”
“I already asked Telly while you were showering if he can duck out at the next Walmart and pick up some civvies for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I need a laundromat, is all.”
She shrugs, taking a bite of her dark chocolate before answering with her mouth full. “Easier and quicker to spend twenty bucks on sweats than it is to be delayed even longer while we wait for a washer.”
She has a point.
Her thick blonde ponytail tickles my face when she turns around in the tight space to retrieve her book and remaining chocolate. I take the opportunity while her back is turned to check out the yoga pants and loose T-shirt she changed into, disgusted that I find something so simple fucking sexy on a woman like her.
I can’t even see the dip of her damn waist, but the way that the cloth hugs the top of her rounded peach butt … fuck.
“You can take the bottom bunk on the left, under Shanae.” Alice clutches the paperback to her chest. “It’s opposite me, and as far from Fria as you can get.”
“Thanks.”
Her mouth opens slightly as though to say something, but instead, she presses her lips tight and sighs.
She has no reason to be helpful after what an ass I was earlier, and as Alice ducks down into her bunk, I wonder.
What the fuck happened to the girl I used to know?
EIGHT
Alice
“Hard Act to Follow” - Grinspoon
The rocking motion of the bus as it comes to a stop, followed by the whoosh of the air-brakes underneath me, chase away whatever slim slumber I’d finally drifted into.
I can’t name the emotion that kept me awake long after I’d turned in for the night, but I can definitely describe the feeling: tension.
For whatever reason, having Emery softly snore his drunken headache away across from me grated at my skin like a damn jaunt along the asphalt. Our interactions were so much simpler, fun even, when they were happenstance meetings between our early gigs.
But now that he’s here, in my damn safe space. I feel violated.
Yeah. That’s what it is. I feel cheated of the small pleasures I should be allowed between shows.
I’ve never been an extrovert, as much as I love to perform. Evenings on the bus, or at our motel, are sacrosanct to me. And with one thrust of his meddling dick, he’s managed to fuck it up.
Thanks.
“Miss Alice,” Telly whispers from the walkway between the bunks. “Are you awake?”
I tug the curtain back and roll to my side to peer up at him. “Yeah.”
He thumbs toward the front of the bus. “I’m hopping off to get your friend the clothes we talked about. Do you know what size he is?”
“Large? Extra-large? I don’t know.” I gesture to the curtain opposite mine. “Ask him.”
Telly smiles tightly. “I tried, but I couldn’t rouse him.”
My heart skips a beat. Oh, fuck. I didn’t think to check if he was alright to sleep while intoxicated. I mean, he wasn’t that drunk anymore, but still.
My knee smacks the edge of the bunk in my haste to get out. “Ow, fuck.”
Telly b
acks up, giving me space to check on Emery. Except he frowns when I bend down to the bunk opposite mine.
“He’s on the sofa, miss.”
A sharp twinge jolts down the side of my neck with the speed I snap my head left. I should not get up this quick. I can’t tell what angers me more: that he’s clearly alive and breathing, or that I spent a sleepless night anxious about an empty bunk.
For fuck’s sake.
“Get extra-large. Better to be too big than too small.” I note the bills in Telly’s hand. “Did I give you enough?”
He lifts them between us in his clenched fist, smiling. “Should be fine.”
The guy is too good to us. He’s more an Alfred than a substitute grandfather, but we love him as though he were both. I wait until he’s left before pulling an empty Tupperware container from the overhead cabinet and filling it with water from the small sink.
Shanae drops out of her bunk with a soft thud, stretching her arms high. I check over my shoulder that Emery’s still asleep.
Yep. Perfect.
All I get from my bassist is a raised eyebrow while she ambles toward the coffee pot.
The chilly water hits Emery square in the face, soaking his bare chest and wetting half his messy hair. The douche jack-knifes, smacking his elbow on the sidewall of the bus in the process.
“What the hell?”
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”
Droplets fly everywhere when he shakes his head. “What’s with the fucking water?”
“You have a towel,” I point out.
“Coffee, Alice?” Shanae carries on as though nothing is amiss.
“Yes, thanks.” The girl is my spirit animal, I’m sure.
“You might as well pour me one,” Emery grumbles.
Shanae calmly takes two large swigs from her mug to make space, pours the last of the pot in, and then shows the empty vessel to Emery. “Oh, I’m sorry. There’s no more.”
With a glare that would make lesser women cower, Emery snatches up his phone and marches to the front of the bus. The towel unwinds, slips, and exposes his ass before he can catch it with his free hand.
“Motherfucker,” he growls, shoving the device under his chin so he can adjust his covering.
