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Even Sierra and Kelly quiet down as he tries to merge into different lanes, swearing under his breath every now and then. When it doesn’t feel like we’re in a dangerous video game, traffic seems to be at a complete standstill.
Raindrops darken the windshield of the car, the wiper blades sweeping back and forth in a way that feels completely futile.
Dom sneaks a look at me as I rub my temple.
“I think there might be painkillers in the glovebox,” he says.
I look at him. “You think?”
He flashes me an apologetic smile. “This isn’t my car. Might be worth a look.”
I nod, but I don't reach out. I wince when he reaches across to open the glovebox. His rings flash and glimmer in front of me. There are a lot of them. I wonder how he can do this when he never takes his eyes off the road. He fishes around for a moment. I watch as he rustles papers, finally dropping an old bag of chips at my feet, a tiny bottle of water and a small pill bottle.
"Here you go," he says.
I read the label and catch his eye. I want to laugh--at how brusque he was, at how annoyed he seems at getting me medicine even though I didn't ask him for anything.
“Are you serious?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"Might help," he says again. He grimaces when he realizes that the contents of the glove box have fallen at my feet.
I reach down, grab the water, the bottle of pills and read the label. It's not a brand I'm familiar with, but my headache is getting worse, and at this point, I would try anything.
"Don't you have a spell you can use?" I ask him.
He smirks. "I see my reputation precedes me."
He hands it to me and I swallow two, dry. I’m not a big fan of pills but right now, I’ll take anything that will get me through this traffic.
A little green Mazda suddenly veers in front of us and Dom slams on the brakes. I find myself flung forward–but Dom’s arm is in front of me in a brief, protective gesture.
I don't know this man at all, but that's nice.
I notice he's about to lay on the horn but he hesitates as he side-eyes me. “Look at it this way, it’s better than taking a bus.”
I nod. I’d rather be in traffic than on an overcrowded bus. But I do wish that the airport didn't feel like it was hours away from our hotel.
I close my eyes and listen to the traffic around us. I try to fall asleep, but it’s impossible. There’s nothing quiet about this city–it feels like it’s roaring in my ears, keeping me awake even when I’m fighting hard against it.
I don’t know how long has passed when I turn to look over my shoulder. Sierra and Kelly are asleep, which is completely unfathomable to me. I turn to look at Dom, who looks more tired by the minute. I didn’t notice the bags under his eyes when I first looked at him, but now, in the dim light of traffic, it’s hard to miss them.
“How long until we’re there?” I ask him quietly, so I don’t wake them up.
“Half an hour, if we’re lucky,” he replies, just as quietly. “You can rest for a couple of days, then the tour starts.”
“I know,” I reply, smiling. I can see the brochure with our band’s name below Javi’s, the neon pink with the drop shadow looking amateurish under the clearly professional design. The words ‘Halloween Tour’ are displayed prominently below the dates, in what should be blank space between the last date and the end of the glossy paper.
“You’ll need all the rest you can get. The tour sounds grueling.”
I nod. “It does. And I don’t think I’m having a particularly strong start. This headache…and Trine.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Who’s Trine?”
“Bassist,” I say. “She’s the reason Misha hired you. She’s like, uh, special.”
He snickers. “Special, huh?”
I have no idea how much he knows, so I look at him, my eyes narrow. “What did Misha tell you?”
