“I felt like I was being picked up by one of those claw machines at the arcade,” Reed says as he grins at me. “That was awesome.”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Mads says, approaching me to bump my fist. “Glad to see you came prepared.”
I chuckle and exchange the friendly gesture. “I don’t know how to tell you all this, but I amactuallygood at my job,” I say, glancing Bonnie’s way.
Her ecstatic expression softens when our eyes meet, and as she cracks her knuckles, I suddenly forget that the rest of the band is talking to me. It isn’t until I see movement in my peripherals—their manager coming toward me— that I reluctantly peer away from her.
“Hey, fuck heads—Not you, you’re epic,” Avie says, gently touching my arm. “Well worth the money we’re spending on the little team you come with. Hey, shit bags,” he says as he finally gets the band’s attention. “Who’s my favorite fucking rockstars? I love you. I love you. And you. You’re all amazing. Reed, if you lose a finger in that crowd, don’t expect me to pay to have it sewn back on. Zeb, my guy, you always look like a serial killer. Bon, you’re perfection. I love you. Mads, go fuck yourself—”
Mads cackles and claps his hands together at the adoring sentiment.
“—I have to get back to the office before Don loses his shit on some new kids.” He presses the phone to his ear again and holds up a finger. “Yeah, I fucking hear you, Don. Can’t take a piss without hearing you—Hey, don’t do anything stupid this weekend,” he adds to the band. “And don’t make Stella want to quit. Or this one,” he says, pointing at me. “We like them. We want to keep them. We can’t afford better—Yes, shut the fuck up, Don, and let me talk to my—” Avie makes a gesture like he wants to throw the phone against the wall.
“Aren’t you supposed to be using countdowns for your anger?” Mads asks Avie.
Avie points a finger at him. “Again, go fuck yourself—Don, I’m hanging up. I’m hanging up. No I’m not fucking hanging upjust for you to call me back—” He sighs and lets his arm hang by his side. “You get two days off. Be back in the studio on Monday. Lockdown for the next two weeks after that. Then it’s Radio Eleven and headlining again at RagnaRock. I want a new song on that fucking stage. Make it epic.”
“You know we will,” Mads says.
“Always,” Reed agrees.
“Okay, I love you asshats. Gemma—” Avie sizes me up, then pats my arm like he’s scared of me. “I’m sorry for any bullshit they put you through the next few weeks. Please don’t leave.”
I huff amusedly. “I don’t plan on it.”
“Good—Yeah, fuck head, I’m leaving now.” He holds his hand on the speaker one more time. “Great fucking show, guys. See you in a couple of weeks.”
Avie disappears down the corridor, and I can still hear him yelling at the person on the phone as he practically pushes his way to the steps leading down into the grass.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to fuck my wife,” Reed says, gathering his things.
“Yeah, you do that,” Bonnie says as the rest of them begin loading up their own bags. “Do you think Andi got pictures of her face when Reed pulled her onstage to introduce Mrs. Kelly-Matthews to the world?” she teases.
“Probably,” Mads says. He hoists his bag over his shoulder and pulls his mask up. “I’ll send it to you. See you fuckers on the lawn tomorrow.”
He and Reed leave together, both of them nodding with “Goodnight,” as they pass.
“Hey.” Zeb nods to Bonnie. “What are you doing right now?”
“Ah…” Bonnie’s gaze drifts my way. “Probably just crashing. Party hard tomorrow night, right?”
“Fuck yeah,” he replies. “Foster texted me about hanging out. Didn’t know if you wanted to come with.”
“He’s actually hosting a meeting at lunch tomorrow behind the third stage,” Bonnie says, and I realize she means an AA meeting. “I’ll see him then. Tell those fuckers from New Dawn I said I didn’t hear them chanting my name like they were supposed to.”
Zeb smiles at her. “Yeah, okay.” He peers my way over his shoulder. “You walking her to her trailer, Amethyst?”
My eyes narrow at the name, and it clicks that he chose a gem as my nickname, which prompts me to peer Bonnie’s way. “Does it mean I’m accepted into the gang if the quiet one gives me a nickname?”
Bonnie laughs and pushes her bag on her shoulder. “Something like that.”
I move away from the door and allow her and Zeb into the night air. Zeb leans over, kisses the top of Bonnie’s head, then yanks on a strand of her hair before disappearing into the night.
Bonnie’s eyes meet mine, and suddenly I feel like a nervous teenager. I don’t entirely know what to do with my hands. It’s weird, being in front of her and not stalking in the shadows. I’m so used to her not knowing I’m there that standing before her feels like this is the mask, and the suit I wear in the dark is my true self.
I almost laugh at just how true that statement is.
The person lurking beneath the surface of this skinsuit is much more selfish and violent than the person without the mask could ever be.
