“Are you sure?” Cash insisted. “Because you’ve ignored me up until now.”
I glanced to the back of the bus and said, “I know.”
Cash let out an uncharacteristic growl. “You asked me to smack you the next time you got attached to anothermuse. And even though I’ve smacked you twice, a new muse is now traveling with us.”
“Roxie is different,” I argued, peeking over my shoulder to make sure the others couldn’t hear.
“Is she?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” I snapped. “I don’t know why you’re on my ass about this all of a sudden.”
Cash sighed and shook his head. “Because I know you, Riot. And I’m worried.” He glanced over for a second. “You’re like a brother to me. You know that, right?”
“You’re not my brother,” I hissed. “And you should mind your own fucking business and drive the bus.”
I pushed off the chair and stormed off, wishing I had somewhere else to go besides the back of the bus.
The reason his comment annoyed me so much was because Cash was right. But I wasn’t ready to admit that to him just yet.
Hell, I still wasn’t ready to admit it to myself.
“What were you two arguing about?” Roxie asked when I reached the bunks. She was stretched out in hers, one knee bent with a sketchpad resting against it.
“The bed,” I lied. “He’s mad that it’s my turn to sleep in it tonight.”
“The bunks aren’t so bad,” Roxie said with a smile.
Ugh. That smile cut straight to my core.
“You want it tonight?” I offered, nodding toward the larger bed. “I like the bunks more, and it would piss Cash off if I gave it to you.”
She chuckled but said, “I don’t want to mess with the rotation you guys have established. Besides, I’m not even in the band. Y’all are the ones who should get the bed.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. What are you working on?”
Roxie glanced at her sketchpad. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
I sat on the edge of the bunk. “Come on. I’m sure it’s more interesting than the song I’ve been trying to write for the past hour.”
She glanced at me, back at the sketchpad, then grinned. “Okay, don’t laugh. But it’s a gig I’m applying for. It’s a graphic novel set in a future dystopia where everyone is fighting over fresh water.”
“That sounds cool. You only have sketches so far?”
“I’ve done a few larger illustrations, but I haven’t shown anyone yet. They’re not very good.”
“Let me see!” I insisted. “I promise not to make fun of them.”
Roxie squinted at me for a few seconds, and I was certain she would say no. But then she folded her legs into a pretzel and made more room for me to squeeze into the bunk.
“I really like this one.” She flipped to a page in her sketchbook that was filled with shades of black and gray. “It’s a scene where the character in the graphic novel—named Artemis—has discovered an underground lake that is still pristine. It’s probably tough to tell, but the tone I was trying to go for—”
“Religious,” I said, pointing. “It’s like a Renaissance painting of Jesus and Mary. Except—”
“Artemis is Mary, and the water is Jesus!” she exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I was going for! The way she’s looking at the lake, full of love and adoration…”
“You’re very talented,” I said, and meant every word. “You were able to convey all of that in black and white. I can’t imagine what you can do with full color. I hope you get the gig.”
“Thanks. I submit my art tomorrow. I probably won’t get it… but for now, I’m feeling hopeful. This is a peaceful scene, but most of the graphic novel is violent.”
