Page 9 of The Bitter Words

“You don’t what?” My uncle moseys into the common space.

“I need to get back to LA today and find Livianna.” I gesture to the front of the bus. “We’re on our way to the airport to pick her up right now.”

“If we’re picking her up, why do you need to go to LA and find her?” He nudges me to move over.

Bren pushes out of his seat. “Take my place, John. I’m gonna try to go back to sleep for a few hours. I’m beat.”

“Cool.” My uncle turns to the kitchen area where we cook and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Let me guess. Livianna saw the story we planted and assumed the worst. Now she’s not speaking to you.”

“Nailed it. Once I find her, everything will work out, but I’m not staying here with the band waiting for that to happen.”

He mixes some sugar and cream into his cup, comes over to the table, and sits. “Do whatever you need, but remember I warned you this was going to be the case. This result wasn’t caused by me.”

“I know. That’s why I sent her a message last night, telling her to call me.”

“Why not just tell her why you did it?”

I peg him with an annoyed stare. “You told me to keep any proof that we’re sabotaging this tour off my phone. Do you think it’s wise for me to spell it out in black and white so some hacker can get it and ruin us?”

“Right.” His sleepy eyes tell me he’s not awake enough to be thinking straight.

Since we’ve been on the road again, he’s gone back to drinking and drugging. He doesn’t do it as much as he used to and he vows never to touch meth again.

He better not. At least not around me or anywhere near Livianna. There would be big issues if that were to take place.

He stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “Well, do what you need to do. Just make sure you’re back for the show tomorrow night.”

“You’re not gonna give me shit for how much money it’s gonna cost?”

“Nah. Your ma picked up another job. We should be good for a few months once that paycheck hits. Plus, we’re getting some dough from the label.”

My jaw drops. “Ma took another modeling job? When and where?”

“She left LA last night and went to the Virgin Islands.”

“When is she scheduled to get back?”

“Next week.”

“Who’s gonna be there for her when she returns? You know how depressed she gets.”

He takes a sip of his coffee as he seemingly considers it. I bounce my knee up and down under the table as I glare at him, waiting for his response.

He places his mug down. “Cash, she’ll be fine.”

“How are you so sure?”

“She told me she’ll pick up some Z-bars from someone. Those should calm her down and help her get the rest she needs.”

“Great. She’ll go from uppers and coke to downers without anyone there to help manage her. Yeah, nothing could go wrong there.” Sarcasm drips from my lips.

“She’s an adult, Cash. She’s got it under control.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

He sends me a look of understanding. “She’s not like your pops. She wouldn’t do that.”

I rub the stiff muscles in my neck. No kid my age should have to worry about the kind of things I do.