Page 52 of Electric Wounds
Enzo, leaning against the wall, still looks smug. "Calm down, Jax. It’s not the end of the world."
That’s it. I step toward him, fists clenched. "You think this is funny? We’re falling apart, and all you can do is stand there like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t give a damn about what fucking happens to us."
Enzo doesn’t flinch. "Maybe because I don’t," he fires back, his eyes cold.
Marcus steps between us before things escalate. "Enough. This isn’t helping anyone. We need to figure out our next move to get out of here."
Lily steps up next to Marcus, and it starts to feel like they’re all ganging up on me. She places a hand against my arm, but I yank it away, ignoring the flash of hurt on her face. “It’s going to be okay. Let me check with the desk and see if anyone left a message,” she says, turning away.
She returns a minute later, with the hotel manager in tow. The manager addresses us, her voice apologetic. "Excuse me, but the power outage has affected the entire block. No one stopped by the desk with a note, but I understand that you missed your carpool. We can arrange transportation if needed.”
“Yes, we would appreciate that,” Marcus responds, offering her a polite smile. “We can’t reach anyone now and we are running pretty late.”
The manager gives us a sympathetic smile and heads off to make arrangements. I turn back to the band, still fuming. "Did anyone leave anything upstairs? We leave as soon as our ride gets here."
Dylan and Lily exchange a look, then head upstairs to double check nothing was left behind in the room. The rest of us stand in tense silence. Everyone is holding their bag already, so I question if Lily just needed to escape the constant bickering. Then I try to convince myself that I don’t care.
Finally, a cab arrives, and we pile in. The cramped space only adds to the discomfort. As we settle into our seats, Lily leans over to me, her voice soft. "Can I charge my phone? I need to text Harris and the crew."
"Yeah," I grunt, handing her my charger. "USB port."
She plugs it in, her fingers flying over the screen as she types out frantic messages. The rest of us sit in silence, the hum of the car’s engine the only sound as we drive toward the next disaster waiting to unfold. When it rains, it pours.
THIRTY-FOUR
UNDER PRESSURE
Lily
I frantically type out messages to Harris, my fingers flying over the screen as I explain the power outage and our late departure. Each of his responses is short and sharp, his frustration evident through every word. My heart pounds harder with every message, the anxiety in my chest growing by the second.
How far away are you?Harris demands. I glance at the map on my phone, my stomach sinking—it’s going to be tight. If nothing changes, we will make it without about ten minutes to spare.
We’re en route, but there’s traffic. I reply, biting my lip as I hit send.
His response comes instantly.This is not good, Lily. If you miss the show...
I let out a heavy sigh and place my phone on my lap, leaning into Marcus beside me, seeking some comfort. His arm wraps around me, pulling me close.
“Trouble?” he asks, his voice a low murmur, his warm breath tickling my ear.
I shake my head, not saying anything, staring out at the unmoving line of cars ahead. We have been crawling forward, then stopping for about twenty minutes now. The air in the cab feels suffocating, thick with tension. No one is talking. Phones are plugged in, filling the air with constant pings as they come back to life, but the usual banter is absent. Even Dylan, who is typically the first to lighten the mood, seems on edge.
Up front, the cab driver clicks through his map, viewing alternate routes as he complains to himself about the traffic, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing in the back. The sun beats down on the cab, turning it into a sweltering box. Sweat trickles down my back, making my shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin. Marcus wipes his forehead, his messy blond hair sticking to his damp skin, and Dylan, sitting behind us, fans himself with a piece of crumpled paper.
"Looks like we’re in for a hot one," Dylan jokes, his voice weak, as if he’s trying to grasp at some semblance of humor. "Anyone up for a road trip sing-along?"
Enzo snorts from the back. " That’s exactly what we need right now. Why do you always want to fucking sing in the car anyway?”
Dylan shrugs in response.
Jax, sitting next to Enzo, is silent, his jaw clenched as he stares out the window. His dark hair hangs in his eyes, and it’s clear that he’s stewing in his own thoughts. The tension in the van is almost unbearable, each of us simmering in our own frustrations.
Suddenly, the car lurches to a stop, throwing us all forward in our seats.
"What the fuck?" Enzo barks, his irritation bubbling to the surface.
“Idiots,” the cab driver responds, gesturing out the windshield. I glance at the sea of brake lights ahead of us. Trafficis at a standstill, again, and with every minute that passes, our chances of making it on time slip further away.
