“Sweet droids!” Samantha spits out, rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth.
“Don’t worry, I got this.”
I grab the cleaning supplies as she hobbles to the kitchenette.
The smell is acrid, and it’s a struggle not to retch again, but I hold it in so that I don’t trigger another round from Samantha.
After the mess is gone, I grab Febreeze from the cabinet and soak the area, hoping to cover the putrid odor.
“I have to head out now,” I tell Samantha, but she’s buried in her work, giving only a slight nod.
Entering the backstage area, I’m greeted by the stone-cold gazes of Slay and Natasha. Deciding it would be better to clear the water from under the bridge before it gets too high, I approach.
“Hey, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry?—”
“How could you?” Natasha steps forward, poking a finger into my chest.
I take a step back because it looks like she’s about to murder me. “Pardon?”
“Do you even realize who she is? She’s Elliot’s sister!”
“So?” I confirm with a nod.
“This is going to hurt Bianca!”
“I get that seeing her might bring up feelings, but she’s not here because of Bianca.”
“Bullshit! Her family just wants Bianca back, so they sent her.”
“That’s not true.”
“You can’t tell me you actually believe that a woman like Samantha, who comes from money, has no other choice but to stay on the Hunks’ tour bus?”
“It’s a complicated situation.”
Red with rage, Natasha takes another step forward and cranes her head back to look me in the eye. “If you believe that Tox, you’re even stupider than you look, because Samantha is a snake. Pure-fucking-poison.”
NINETEEN
Samantha
Adjustingto the bus is like living on foreign soil. Everything is different. Their sleep schedule, their lingo, the way they interact with each other.
To make matters worse, Natasha hates me and makes no effort to hide her indignation. Because of her loathing, Vanessa won’t speak to me and most of the Hunks give me cold, scornful stares as I move around the bus.
Perhaps the most infuriating aspect of their distaste for me is that they think I’m lazy and hog the bathroom. What they don’t realize is that I’ve spent my entire day on the bus lining up sponsors and influential people to post about their show, and when I’m in the bathroom, it’s typically because I’m either puking, constipated, or both.
It’s easy to take their antipathy in stride, as I’m used to it, but seeing how they’re treating Toxic, who’s literally the nicest guy on the entire planet, makes me as angry as a hornet.
Despite his newfound hardship, Toxic has made it his mission to be present and in the moment, going so far as to share a bunk with me.
Before him, I’d never shared a bed with a man, but waking up wrapped in his embrace gave me a peace I’d never known before.
Toxic isn’t just a handsome himbo. He possesses qualities I didn’t know existed in men, and I can’t help but feel humbled by his kindness and sincerity.
Remembering Angela’s email, I dig into the documents she sent over and write up a general assessment. It’s unclear why she would seek my help, especially since these documents contain privileged communication, but I don’t ask questions.
SEND.
