You treat Mom like shit.You treat everyone like shit.You treated Skye like shit too.
Drink.
The guy to his left bumped his shoulder.“Sorry,” he mumbled.Remi only nodded and went back to ripping his napkin into tiny shreds.
You’re twenty-five years old and have no savings, no career, no college degree.When the band kicks you out, Tilted Haze won’t finish the tour, and the label won’t pay you out, leaving you and your friends even more poor than you started.
Drink.Drink.Drink.
“Doesn’t the metal on your mouth scare away the girls?”
Remi blinked and turned to the man.He wore a red flannel over a white shirt.He was probably only a little older than Remi, but his skin was weathered and wrinkly on his hands.Hairy knuckles rapped on the bar next to his drink.
“Hey, I asked you a question,” he said.
Maybe a hole-in-the-wall bar in Alabama hadn’t been the best idea.He almost felt nostalgic for the last time he’d been called out for his piercings and tattoos.Back when Skye was manipulating his life and getting him fired from his job.
Ah, good times.
“No,” Remi mumbled.“Never heard a complaint.”He swallowed the rest of his drink.
“No?”
“Maybe he doesn’t like girls,” his buddy said.He was wearing a matching flannel to his friend’s, just in blue.
Remi bit his tongue to keep from responding.God, he wished his nail polish hadn’t chipped off.That would’ve really given them something to get upset about.
“I’d think it’d scare away the boys too.You want to kiss that?”Red Flannel asked.
“Fuck off,” Blue Flannel said.“I’m not a homo.”
Remi’s grip tightened around his empty glass.
“Oh, no.I think we pissed him off,” one of the flanneled fuckers said.
The heat of indignation flared in Remi’s chest.He took a deep breath through his nose to try to cool down.“It’s 2018.I think the gay jokes can be retired, don’t you?I mean, same-sex marriage has been legal now for years.”
Remi caught the bartender’s eye and made a sign for the check, almost proud of himself for walking away instead of engaging in battle.Emerson would be proud too.He hated when Remi got into fights with his idiot football friends.
Why would I be proud of you for doing what you’re literally supposed to do?Emerson’s voice countered in his head.
Or not.
“Gay marriage ain’t legal ’round here,” Blue Flannel said.“That’s for sure.We ain’t letting homos get married.We voted to ban it.It’s in our state constitution that marriage is between a man and a woman.”
Remi gritted his teeth and handed the bartender his credit card.He used a calm, neutral voice to respond.“Actually, same-sex marriage is federally legal in all fifty states, whether or not your backward-ass state constitution banned it.That amendment, by the way, was ruled unconstitutional, so you might want to check up on your facts.”
“You calling me stupid, boy?”Blue Flannel asked.
Remi signed the check, stood, and put his credit card back in his wallet.He didn’t make eye contact with either of them, nor did he shout a resounding “Yes!”to Blue Flannel’s question.
Come on, Em.You gotta be proud of me forthat.
Remi turned to leave, but Red Flannel grabbed his shoulder.“Hey!We’re talking to you!”
Remi tried.He really tried to leave.He hadn’t risen to the bait—much, but these fuckers’ hands on him was the last straw.
Red Flannel shoved him, and Remi swung his fist and clocked him in the nose.He could have sworn he heard Emerson’s dramatic and disappointed sigh in his head as the Flannel Fuckers pummeled him to the ground.
