Why the hell was the sun shining so warmly? It should’ve been raining cats and dogs, so he wouldn’t have to see anything beyond their venue for the night, but right now the town was like many other places in the Midwest, with ranch-style houses scattered on both sides of the road and forested hills in the background.
It seemed so normal.
Like a trap.
Sid shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. The gig is at a bar attached to a motel, so we get a free place to stay as well. Win-win if you ask me. Next week we’re out of Ohio anyway.”
Zane stretched, thinking back to his last, rather stormy phone call with Dad and he touched his wallet through denim pants. There wasn’t very much in it at the moment, and that needed to change, and fast. “By the way, I know you guys wanted to invest in that new bass, but I really need to send my parents some cash soon. Let’s open up the bank and divide what we’ve earned.”
Sid and Callum shared a look, and Callum glanced back, his mouth orangey from the spicy oil covering the chicken leg. “That’s not what we agreed to.”
Zane fucking hated the fact that his new money-focused lifestyle forced him into depending on others, but what else was he to do about the massive debt to his parents? He hadn’t expected them to reach out with help when he was at his lowest, and he’d pay them back if it killed him.
“Look, I know Sid’s bass is a bit shit, and it affects the way we sound, but I didn’t ask you to pitch in for my guitar. I’ve been thinking about it, Sid, and it seems fair that you use your share to pay for your instrument. How much do we have?”
“Close to a thousand,” Callum said quickly, and Sid rolled his eyes as they drove past the entryway to a trailer park.
“Fine. Ten percent stays in the bank, and we each get thirty. Callum, give him his hundred and fifty,” Sid decided, and his brother hurried to open a little pouch where they gathered the cash earned on gigs.
Zane stiffened. A hundred and fifty didn’t sound like much, but if they all got equal share, then what reason did he have to question that amount? How much was ten percent anyway, and how was it different from thirty? He wanted to challenge Sid, tell him to say it like a normal person or draw the chunks of cash on paper, as adding visuals typically made maths a little less incomprehensible. But then Sid and Callum would know that he was a sucker who couldn’t count and would surely use that knowledge against him. He’d be safe for as long as he pretended to understand it all.
Zane pocketed the cash and looked out of the window again, but any and all thoughts rotted and turned into a muddy goo that had him holding his breath as a metal sign sped straight at him on the side of the road. Covered with rust that made some of the paint peel, the salivating hyena at the top was still visible, its muscles tensed under spotted fur, just like Zane’s did beneath his clothes.
Rabid Hyenas Motorcycle Club.
Clubhouse and Bar.
Open to Public Friday and Saturday.
He was at the edge of the cliff and couldn’t move even though claws were already scratching against the rock wall below. Cold breath tickled the back of Zane’s neck when he spotted the charred walls beyond the trees. The space where patrons used to park their cars had been reclaimed by nature, but colorful tags of graffiti were still visible where the facade hadn’t turned black.
Zane tapped his feet against the floor, sucked back into the car when Callum repeated his name loudly, as if it was the second or third time he’d attempted to draw Zane’s attention.
His chest relaxed, letting him breathe.
“What?”
“You wanna get some food before the gig?”
Zane had no idea how Callum remained such a twig, because the guy ate for three. Maybe he was pregnant with twins.
“I’m not hungry,” Zane snapped and pulled his guitar case closer, cradling it to his chest.
He wouldn’t be hungry again until they left this goddamn town.
Callum turned his head to Zane and wiggled his eyebrows. “Want me to suck your dick?”
Sid groaned. “Can I please have one day without being forced to see my brother’s naked ass? Is that so much to ask?”
Zane pushed his hair back and rolled down to lie along the back seat as the car shook on the uneven road. He’d been experiencing weird little aches since morning, and as he’d dressed, he’d spotted bruises he couldn’t remember getting. Maybe he was about to be hit by a bad cold? He sure hoped his voice wouldn’t get too hoarse for singing tonight, because a warm bed would really be a godsend in this situation.