(eng) Nancy A. Collins by Wild Blood

Author:Wild Blood [Blood, Wild]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

A few minutes later there came a knock on the door of the minivan. Skinner slid it open to find Rend standing with a bundle of mismatched clothes and a pair of Chucks. “I dug up something for you to wear. Hope they fit.”

“Thanks,” Skinner said gratefully as he dressed himself in the badly wrinkled ironic t-shirt and skinny jeans, but decided to ditch the scarf. There weren’t an exact fit, but at least he wouldn’t be bare-ass naked. Just as he finished tying his Chucks, the rest of the group showed up, lugging instruments and sound equipment. Skinner got out and stood beside Rend, watching cautiously as they loaded the microbus parked next to the minivan.

“Who’s the meat?” asked the teenager with a shaved head as he muscled a set of drums into the rear of the microbus.

“He’s not meat, Ripper,” Rend announced. “He’s one of us.”

“Not yet he ain’t,” grunted the giant with the bicycle-spoke Mohawk who was carrying an amplifier under one arm like it was a loaf of bread. “Ain’t that so, Sunder?”

The other roadie flipped his bone-white forelock out of his face with a bob of his head. “Think fast, low-dog!” he laughed as he tossed the fifty-pound bass amp he was carrying like it was a beach ball. Skinner instinctively stepped forward and caught the heavy piece of sound equipment before it could hit the ground. To his surprise it seemed impossibly light, as if made of papier-mâché. “Good doggy!” Sunder said with a grin, clapping Skinner on the shoulder. “You passed the test!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, assing around like that?” Jag snapped as he stormed out of the stage door, his guitar case slung over one shoulder. “What if somebody saw you pull that little stunt, numb nuts? We can’t eat every fucking witness!”

“Yeah, but we could try,” Ripper grinned, only to have Jag smack the side of his shaved head.

“I’m not joking! Can you get that through your thick skull?”

Ripper rubbed his skull, regarding Jag with the eyes of a chronically abused child. “I got it, Jag. You didn’t have t’cuff me.”

Jag ignored the drummer’s compliant and instead thrust an angry finger at Rend. “It’s your job to ride herd on these idiots while I collect from the promoter! You know better than to let them pull stunts like that!”

“You’re right, Jag,” Rend replied, lowering his head in deference.

“You better fuckin’ believe I’m right! Now let’s blow this stinking town before your new pet brings the heat down on us.”

As Skinner turned to re-enter the minivan, Jag blocked his way with his guitar case. “Where do you think you’re goin’, lowdog?”

Skinner looked inside the minivan and saw Jez lounging in the front passenger seat, filing her nails. She looked up and flashed him a smile that made him break out in a cold sweat.

“I was, uh, just going to ride with … uh …”

Rend quickly grabbed Skinner’s upper arm, steering him toward the microbus. “The minivan’s for the members of Vargr,” he explained.

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