“You suck.” Kit grumbled.
“Just name the time and place.”
Kit groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes; whatever else he was going to say was lost when the ride started, carrying us on a slow uphill climb, ending in a dramatic pause before the coaster plunged downward, spiraling into the first twist.
“Oh. My. GODDDDDD!” Kit bellowed. “Holy Shit!!!!”
Two more spirals followed, then a curve and a double loop before another climb. Three times around, four, I’d noticed them giving us a longer time on each of the rides since there were no lines to contend with.
I doubted Kit appreciated that much with the way he was screaming and threatening Rebel.
“And the winner and grand champion of theholy shitcontest of the night is Kit,” Rebel declared when the ride came to an end. “You just shattered the record Steel set earlier tonight.”
“I hate you so hard right now,” Kit moaned as he shoved at the restraint the moment it released.
“Hard is a state I can work with,” Rebel replied, chuckling as he followed him off the ride.
I couldn’t hold back my chuckles, especially when Kit flipped him off. With my bulldog tucked in the pocket of my duster, I followed them into the night, ready for the next leg of this adventure.
Chapter 24
(Kit)
“Why am I the only one who has to wear a blindfold?" I asked, eyeing the purple bandana Johnny held out to me.
“Because my esteemed band brothers and I have cooked up a surprise to officially welcome you to Blissfully Immune,” Johnny declared. “So, put it on so you can be surprised.”
“I swear if you guys are dragging my ass on one of those survivor adventure things or some shit likeFear Factor, you will find out just how fast I’m willing to tap out if it involves ziplines or bugs,” I declared as I reluctantly accepted the blindfold and wrapped it around my head.
“You can’t see anything, can you?” Johnny asked, fiddling with it while Rebel tied it in place.
“Not even a sliver of light,” I grumbled.
“Good, don’t mess with it,” Johnny said as he made a final adjustment.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered and slumped against the back of the couch.
“Don’t worry, you’re gonna love this,” Rebel said, his voice rumbling in my ear as he sat beside me.
“I bet you say that to all the boys,” I scoffed.
Snorts, chuckles, and Johnny commentinghe does,made me feel a bit better about this whole blindfolded thing. I trusted my bandmates, but I’d heard horror stories about bands hazing their new members and hoped I wasn’t about to be part of those statistics.
“I do not,” Rebel protested. “I only say it to the ones I plan to call back.”
“Gotta get their numbers first,” Ozzy said.
“Damn, I knew I was forgetting something,” Rebel shot back.
Their voices were distinctive enough that I could easily follow the conversation, especially when Rebel spoke. I could almost picture the look he was giving Ozzy, all wide-eyed innocence that we all knew was fake. If Rebel were an emoji, he’d be the one with devil’s horns and a battered halo hanging from the tip.
The image made me yearn for the notebook I carried everywhere these days, thanks to Rebel. Fucker had gotten it for me himself, along with a pack of regular pens and the most obnoxious, googly-eyed troll pen with hair that stood up at least three inches. I’d treasure it long past when it ran out of ink, not just because he’d given it to me, but because with it, I’d written the first song that I was truly proud to share with the band.
Thank you twisty roller coaster ride and forty-five seconds of regretting my life choices, which was what the song ended up being about. And not just my life choices, when the band started adding bits in, like Rebel’s line about screaming tires in the night and a brother’s sacrifice that he could never pay back, it became a testament to the mistakes that still haunted us.
The way they worked to shape it, diving in even when I hemmed, hawed, and hedged about what I’d been going for, showed me what Rebel had tried to explain to me when I’d told him my songwriting was too rough to share with them yet. I couldn’t have asked for more patient or knowledgeable teachers. No one had given me shit about my word choices or the way some of the lines had lacked punch. I’d bristled when they’d dissected the song, until I saw them fill in the gaps, building offthe lines where I’d bared my soul, adding their own pain to the narrative.
“How long did Draven say he had us booked at the lodge for?” Dash asked.