“I can’t wait,” Cooper says, grinning all crazy-like.
I turn away, wishing there were at least one girl with me at this moment. Being around so much testosterone is sometimes like bashing my head against a wall, especially when the younger ones are all about women and not a lot else.
“Are you okay, Texas?” Dad asks. “You’ve gone quiet. It’s unlike you.”
“Oh, ha-ha. I’m fine. The guys are grossing me out—as usual.”
“Am I doing the right thing, bringing you?”
“And the award for the dumbest question goes to…”
“I’m serious, Texas.”
“So am I! I love it here, and you know it. The last place on earth I want to be stuck is at Jennifer’s, so stop stressing. Sometimes, I just need a little break from the who’s-sleeping-with-how-many talk.”
Dad laughs. “We all need a break from Milo and Cooper from time to time.”
“Kitt, too. And Jimmy. Actually, you’re all pretty gross. Except you. You gave all that up when you impregnated Jennifer.”
Milo laughs. “Right, so that woman leaving your hotel room before Christmas was a figment of my imagination, was she?”
Ew. No. I turn my nose up and hold my iffy belly. I so don’t want to think about my dad with a woman, or I’ll puke.
“Let’s please not talk about it. Also, Dad, remember to be careful.”
Dad shakes his head, discouraged, but he really has no room at all to say anything. We don’t want another mistake landing on his doorstep.
“She was a hottie, too, Mark. High five,” Milo says, holding his hand up.
Dad reaches out and high-fives him, and I’ve suddenly changed my mind about being here.
“Old man’s still got it,” Kitt adds for my benefit.
I glare at him. Arsehole.
“Yeah, I’ll be in my room,” I say, leaving them to it.
Of course I know my dad has sex, but I don’t ever need to hear it. As long as he wraps it up and keeps them away from me, we’re cool. Not that he would ever parade his conquests in front of me. I’ve only met one woman in my whole nineteen years, and that was by accident.
“Oh, Texy, come back,” Cooper says.
“Not a chance in hell!” I shout back, rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
That’s not a conversation I’d ever hang around for. I would rather drink acid.
My room is tiny. It just fits a single bed, small wardrobe, and minuscule dressing table. But it’s mine, and it’s somewhere I can escape to when needed. This is absolutely one of those times. I grab my bag and pull out my iPad. We have Wi-Fi on the bus, but it’s temperamental. I hope it’s good enough for me to get through a couple of episodes of The Walking Dead on Netflix because I need a distraction.
Plus, I can pretend the zombies are the idiots out there, drinking and talking about my father having sex.
KITT
TUESDAY, MAY 5
DOVER, ENGLAND
We’ve just entered Dover, and we will soon be at the port.
The fucking bets have started to come in. So far, the first one to catch an object—preferably underwear—will get a grand from the others, and the first one to puke from drinking has to do the windmill at an after-party.
I guarantee both will be Coop.
We’re sitting around the table on the lower deck, drinking yet more beer. I was buzzing before the beer, and now, I’m half-cut. It’s stupidly early— 4:03 a.m.—but I’m not at all tired. No one besides the second driver has been to sleep yet, so it’s only a matter of time before we crash hard.
Right now, we’re hyped up on pre-tour excitement and booze.
Coop punches his arm in the air. “Right. Three grand to the first person to do two in one night.”
Obviously, he’s referring to having sex with women. It’s a game we’ve played since the start. None of us have any trouble getting laid, but since the band formed, it’s been ridiculous. And I mean that in a good way. No matter when I want sex, someone is always more than willing to give me what I need.
I’m living the fucking dream.
“Why three grand?” I ask.
We usually stick to an even thousand.
“Does it fucking matter? You’re too much of a pussy to join in.”
Lying back against the seat, I give him the middle finger. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”
Coop’s pale eyes darken, and he barks out, “Fuck that! You’re in. We’ll see who pisses over who.”
“You’re all disgusting,” Texas says before taking a sip of my beer while Mark’s in the bathroom.
At nineteen, Tex has been legal to drink for over a year, but Mark seems to get stricter with her, the older she gets. And that has everything to do with the fact that she’s now the same age Jennifer was when they had her. And Tex is touring with three guys around the age Mark was when he knocked Jennifer up.
“Help yourself?” I mutter, taking the bottle out of her hand.