Chapter Twelve #3
“Yeah, but we’re the ones suffering. Don’t you see?” Remi asked. He raised his hands to the skies, shaking them as if he was some insane preacher who could exorcise this demon from his life. “She’s not breaking a sweat. She’s perfectly fine.”
“Remi,” Skye said. “I did not do this. That’s crazy. How would I have messed with the bus and made sure everything broke and the tire went all at once? How the hell would I have done that? I’m good at multitasking, but come on!”
“The same way you do everything! Magic!” Remi bellowed.
Skye just put her hand on her hip and gave him an incredulous look.
“Rem,” West said, his voice calm. “Skye didn’t do this.”
Remi shook his head. “Don’t you see? She’s turning everyone against me. This is fun for her. Destroying people’s lives. She’s evil and manipulative, and she’s doing this all. Everything bad that’s happened to us is all because of her!”
Skye shook her head.
The eerie whine of cicadas hummed around them.
The sun blazed, creating a wavy heat mirage on the road.
Sweat dripped down Remi’s face. His shirt had already dried from the water he’d spilled only a few minutes earlier.
His simmering rage ignited. He closed the distance between them, staring down at her, their faces inches apart.
“Tell the band, Skye,” he demanded in a low hiss. “Tell them how this is your fault.”
She raised her chin. A defiant, almost predatory glare sparked in her eyes.
And then it was gone.
She stepped back from him, and her bottom lip trembled. “He’s right,” she whispered, interlacing her fingers in front of her chest and staring at the ground. “It’s my fault.”
Surprise flickered through him, his eyebrows furrowing.
“It’s my fault,” she continued. “I chose this tour bus company. I thought I did all the research about the most reliable bus models, but”—she sniffed and shook her head, putting one hand in front of her mouth as the other arm wrapped around her torso—“I was wrong. I messed up. I’m so sorry.
” She turned her back to them and began sobbing.
“Skye!” Liam said. “No.” He pulled her into a hug. “This is not your fault,” he said, glaring at Remi over the top of her head.
“Yeah, Skye,” Ollie said. “There’s no way that you could have known about this. It’s just bad luck, right, Larry?”
Larry wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded from where he was still messing around under the rear panels. “Yeah. I’ve been driving bus for thirty years. I’ve never seen everything go like this at one time. It’s just real bad luck.”
Skye sobbed harder, her entire body shaking in Liam’s arms. Ollie went over and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Skye.”
“I just don’t want you guys to fire me,” she said. “I love this job. I promise I’ll do better.”
“We aren’t going to fire you,” Ollie said. “Right, West?”
Remi turned to his best friend. West’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and a contemplative crease was etched on his forehead as he stared at Skye with narrowed eyes.
West met Remi’s gaze as he said in a neutral voice. “Right.”
“Remi is just being a bigger asshole than usual cause it’s hot and his pretty face is going to melt,” Liam said.
Remi clenched his hands into fists.
“His hair product might spontaneously combust out here, ya know what I mean?” Ollie said.
The three of them laughed, and his rage boiled over. He yelled some guttural noise and punched the side of the tour bus. “Fuck!” As soon as his knuckles connected with the metal, he screamed again, “Fuck!”
Pain radiated up his arm. He held his wrist with the other hand as his knuckles started throbbing.
“Jesus, Remi,” West said, running over. “What the hell are you doing?” He grabbed Remi’s hand to inspect it. “Since when did you start punching walls? I swear, it’s like you’re turning into Emerson.”
Remi yanked his arm away and shoved West with his good hand. “Oh, and you would know, wouldn’t you?”
West shoved him back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The heat of anger cooled in an instant. Remi stared down at the ground. “Nothing,” he mumbled.
“Go see if we have any goddamn ice for your fucking hand,” West said.
Remi pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and slunk back onto the bus. He did as he was told and got some half-melted ice on his hand. Standing in front of the window, he stared out at everyone crowding around Skye, comforting her.
She threw herself into West’s arms, tucking her chin over his shoulder.
Her eyes locked on Remi, even though Remi knew from the outside you couldn’t see inside the bus. Or rather, humans couldn’t.
A tear-stained path was streaked down her face, and her bloodshot eyes were convincing, but she blinked once, and her faux sadness vanished.
She gave him a dead expression with just the slight lift of one of her eyebrows.
See what I can do to you?
He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands. “Fuck.” He winced as pain from his knuckles and wrist shot down his arm.
He hated her. Fucking hated her so much.
He was losing this war, and the tour had barely started. He wasn’t sure how much more damage to his hands, to his relationships, to his pride, he could take.