Page 50 of Revel
When the song’s finished, Red crawls to the couch where she resumes her place next to Hardin. “Looks like you have many talents.”
Red grins at him and raises her fists, balling them. “I have redheaded ninja skills. They’re called ginja, bitches.”
The guys laugh.
I don’t.
“Oh, I have another joke!” she squeals, slapping Hardin’s thigh. “How do you handle a red-head’s temper?”
Hardin smiles lazily. “What?”
“Gingerly.” She laughs again, the sound carrying whimsically through the bus.
Hardin whispers in Red’s ear, and my vision blurs. Something’s off about her eyes. They’re darker, alert, sure, but the black is swallowing the green. A waft of anger hits my chest, a spark, a kick-start of what’s to come.
I don’t know, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I thought I’d made it clear to Hardin that Red was not to be touched? Maybe I should have added don’t fucking talk to her either?
Making my annoyance known, I reach for the cigarettes, light one, then clear my throat. Hardin’s eyes find mine. He smiles.
Go ahead, motherfucker. I hope you like the taste of blood.
That’s when Hardin hands her a beer. Her hands shake when she reaches for it, a fit of laughter escaping her lips. And that’s when I lose my shit on my bandmate.
I flip the table over and send the beer in Red’s hand smashing against the side of the bus. It shatters, women scream, and Hardin locks eyes on me.
He knows.
“Cool it,” he mumbles, blitzed out of his mind. He’s moments away from passing out.
Cool it? I slide my eyes to Red. Blackness suffocates green. She looks at me, but she’s gone inside.
I can barely breathe, but you know what, I fucking smile at him. He’s not stupid. He sees the “fuck you” in my smile.
My body shakes, my blood growling in my ears. These guys, Hardin, Cruz, Deacon, they’re my boys. I have their back no matter what. I tolerate their shit, but this, this I won’t.
“What did you give her?”
With a heavy sigh, Hardin licks his lips, completely relaxed when he says, “Molly.”
I blink.
He can’t be serious.
I wait for thejust kidding, but it never comes. Hardin’s done a lot of fucked-up shit in the past to women, but this? He wouldn’t, would he?
I look to Red, her eyes, the slumped position of her body.
Molly? FuckingMolly? I guarantee you Red hasn’t even smoked a joint let alone played Russian roulette with ecstasy. I flip and kick up the dramatics. Be honest, you know he deserves it.
I reach for him, ready to kill him when suddenly I’m held back by Cruz, Deacon, and Patrick. “You motherfucker!” I scream back at him, everyone in our vicinity stone silent. “I should break your fucking neck, you piece of shit!”
Those around, they keep their distance because they know there’s no stopping me once I’ve turned. Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck. He gave that shit to Hensley all the time. But it’sher, and now, now I give a fuck. I’ve never had someone burn themselves into my mind like this girl so yeah, I care. Lazy-lidded and smirking, Hardin’s eyes drift to mine.
He says nothing, at first.
Nothing.
Until. . . .
