Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
She huffed. “You’re so ungrateful. I put a roof over your head, didn’t I?
You think I have savings? You think I have anything?
My kids took it all from me. And for what?
To be treated like I’m the monster? Oh yeah, I’m a horrible mother.
A horrible mother who gave you a home and kept food in the fridge. ”
“I didn’t fucking ask to be born!” Remi screamed into his phone. “If you didn’t want us, you shouldn’t have gotten knocked up.”
She was crying now, sobbing, and it almost made Remi feel bad for yelling—almost—but he remembered this was what she did. She made everyone feel sorry for her. “You’re so cruel to your mother. What did I do to deserve such a hateful child?”
“You were a shitty mom,” Remi said. “Don’t call me again. I’m cutting you out of my life. Don’t text me asking for money. Don’t message me on social media. I’m done. I’m fucking done with you.”
“Remington! You’ll regret—”
He hung up the phone, scrolled to his contact list, and blocked her phone number. He went to all of his social media accounts and blocked his mom from every single one of them.
A huge breath whooshed out of his lungs when he was done.
He should have done this years ago, but he’d held on to some fucked-up sense of duty to Emerson.
Like if he just took her calls, listened to her complaints, withstood her verbal attacks, maybe that would atone for how he acted growing up.
Like maybe then he’d finally know what Emerson would have told him if he’d made it to the cabin the day he died.
Remi sat on the bed and sighed. A chill skated down his back as he looked around the room.
“I’m sorry, Em,” he said. “I really don’t know if you’d be disappointed or proud.
Don’t know if you’d be yelling at me right now.
Don’t know if this is the right decision.
” He exhaled, and some tension released from his body.
“But I can’t do it anymore. I should have stood up to her and cut her out of my life while you were still alive.
We should have escaped that fucking house together. I’m sorry we didn’t.”
He released another breath, and something lifted from his shoulders. Maybe Emerson was there with him. Or maybe, like when West had hallucinated him while on acid, Remi just wanted him there so much he convinced himself he felt him.
But either way, it didn’t matter. Emerson was gone, and Remi was still here. And he wasn’t going to let anyone treat him or his true family—his bandmates—like shit anymore.
Remi walked out of the back room, feeling lighter. Rebellious energy bubbled through him.
Liam was on the couch, tapping out a beat on his thighs. His hairy legs were shown off in his plaid skirt, and he’d switched out the laces of his combat boots to bright pink.
West’s shoulder-length hair was pulled up high in a ponytail, and he had long, dangly earrings in both of his ears. The bedazzled crop top showed off his belly button piercing.
Skye was painting Ollie’s nails a bright neon blue at the table. Ollie still wore his usual beanie, but Skye must have bought him a new one since this one was lilac purple with a big butterfly in the middle, matching the purple in his plaid skirt.
“Hey,” West said as he cracked open a soda. “You good? I heard some yelling back there.”
Remi nodded. “Just getting rid of some baggage.”
West grabbed his shoulder, shaking it lightly, and smiled. “About time, dude. She was fucking awful to you. To you both.”
Remi chewed his lip, but nodded. “Yeah, she really fucking was. I’m not putting up with that kind of bullshit anymore.”
“Good,” West said.
Remi took a step back and appraised his bandmates. “God,” he said. “We’re some pretty motherfuckers.”
They all laughed.
Skye’s gaze found his, and her smile faded as her eyes slowly trailed down his body. She blinked once, averted her gaze, and turned back to Ollie’s nails. Wariness and confusion churned in his stomach, but before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door.
“That’s security to escort you guys out,” Skye said.
The band made their way to the door, but Remi hung back and grabbed Skye’s arm as she started to leave. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Skye said, texting on her phone. “I’ll film everything since we don’t have a new publicist yet, and—”
“Why are you barely looking at me?”
She bit her lip and slipped her phone away.
One of her fingers looped into the waistband of his skirt and tugged him close.
He could feel the heat of her breath on his neck as she whispered, “Cause if I look too long, I might not let you off this bus.” She nipped at his earlobe, and desire zipped through his body.
“I’m probably going to try to get up your skirt tonight after the show. Just so you know.”
His dick started stirring at the sound of that, but the skirt would do very little in the way of hiding a boner, so he forced himself to step back.
Skye gave him a wicked grin and winked, before turning and practically skipping off the bus.
Remi took a few deep breaths to cool himself down, and then followed her out.
The security team escorted them through the venue and out the doors toward the line of fans. The bigoted shouts from the protesters were drowned out by the fans cheering and screaming as they saw Tilted Haze walking toward them.
Liam, Ollie, West, and Remi spent about an hour, taking pictures, standing next to homemade signs, and signing anything and everything that was thrust into their faces.
Remi was overwhelmed by the intensity of the fan’s fervor.
Girls, boys, enbies—everyone in line had a story and was excited to tell them how much their music meant to them, how it saved them, how it changed them.
He tried to sear it all into his memory, all of their faces and the feeling of community that they gave him.
This was what he wanted the fans to feel every night he was on stage.
This was what he wanted to create in his life.
It’d been here all along. He was just looking for proof of it on social media and in comment sections, but it’d been right there in front of him. In the connection with the crowd every night that he sang.
Skye tapped his shoulder when time was up. They had to get backstage to prepare for the show. But there was one last thing they needed to do.
Liam bent down, and Remi climbed onto his shoulders. Skye handed him a megaphone.
“Hey there,” Remi said, his voice booming down the line of people.
Fans yelled a greeting back at him as the protesters continued their screaming behind him.
“Just wanted to thank everyone for coming out to the Tilted Haze show tonight,” he said.
Rousing applause cascaded through the area.
“We wanted to say a special thank you to the lovely people in line for showing their support. It means the world to us, and it also really fucking pisses these guys off”—he threw a thumb toward the protesters, who, as if coordinated, yelled and shouted their anger louder—“so good fucking job, ya’ll!
But we were wondering if you’d mind if Liam, Ollie, West, and I did something that would piss them off even more? ”
People applauded, stomped, and thundered their approval. A chorus of “Do it! Do it!” started.
Remi shrugged, extra exaggerated. “Okay,” he said into the megaphone. “Well, we gotta give the fans what they want, guys.”
Remi handed Skye the megaphone and climbed off Liam’s back. Skye angled the phone camera toward them as they took off sprinting to the front doors of the venue, where the protesters were congregated.
Remi loved putting on a performance for adoring fans, but the deviant in him would always get a special kick out of giving a show to appalled people who had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
Side by side with his bandmates, Remi would make sure this was a night that no one would ever forget.
Ollie, Liam, West, and Remi stood in a straight line, flipped their skirts up, pulled their underwear down, and flashed their bare asses to the protesters.
Cheers erupted from the fans as the protesters screamed in indignation.
Tilted Haze turned around, gave the protesters their middle fingers, and screamed, “Fuck you!” before running back inside the venue entrance just before the fans broke the line and swarmed the doors.
Remi’s heart pounded loud in his ears, and he was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.
It was a better feeling than every rebellious prank he ever pulled, better than every revenge fantasy he ever had.
He was soaring. Freedom and rebellion and joy fizzed through his body.
It was a high better than any drug. Pissing people off.
Showing up how he wanted to. Dressing how he wanted to.
Being a part of something bigger than himself.
Remi put his arms around West and Ollie. West’s eyes twinkled with the same pleasure, and Ollie’s entire body looked like it was buzzing. Liam beelined to Skye, trying to grab her phone.
“How’d my butt look? Come on. Come on! I wanna see!” Liam said.
Skye laughed.
Remi, West, and Ollie took off sprinting after her with the same question. Remi grabbed her around the thighs and picked her up as she laughed at them.
“Yeah, come on, Skye,” Remi said. “How’d my butt look?”
Liam stole her phone, and Skye planted her hands on either side of Remi’s face and kissed him. “Pretty cute actually.”