Page 12 of Deadly Sins: Envy
“Yeah, hope so.”
We drove into the festival’s main entrance and entered the parking lot where the bands’ tour buses were lined up.
“We have no idea which of these is Willow’s,” I said.
“I do,” Coop said. “She took Dale’s motorhome on tour.”
We started down the first row and a couple of lanky, college-aged guys stepped onto the gravel road, blocking us from going any farther.
Coop gripped the steering wheel. “What the hell is this crap?”
He put his window down, glared at the guy wearing a Metallica tank top, and said, “Move. We need to get by.”
“This area is for bands only, sir,” the guy said. “You need to turn around.”
The use of the word “sir” made me stifle a laugh. I doubted they worked for the venue. They didn’t look the part, and their bloodshot eyes and skunk-like odor gave away their recent extracurricular activities.
I leaned over and said, “We’re with one of the bands. Where can we find The Wild Honeybees?”
“Who’s asking?” Metallica Shirt Guy said.
“I’masking,” I said. “Which bus is theirs?”
The guys exchanged glances. Metallica Shirt Guy looked at the first tour bus in the lineup and said, “Hey, Bender, these two are asking about The Wild Honeybees.”
A man with a shaved head and multiple body piercings stepped out of the tour bus wearing a kilt, combat boots, and no shirt. He slapped a hand against the bat he was holding and eyed Coop like he wanted to give his car a makeover.
Coop yawned, unfazed.
Bender approached the car and said, “What do you want with the Bees?”
“To talk,” Coop said.
“About what?”
“I’m Willow Cooper’s uncle.”
He raised a brow. “You are, eh? Got any ID to prove it?”
“Excuse me?”
“You hard of hearing? I asked, do ... you ... got ... ID?”
I resisted the urge to correct Bender’s grammar and remained silent, allowing Coop to deal with him. Coop sighed and reached into his pocket.
A woman with long, blond pigtails, wearing a crop top and bell-bottom jeans poked her head out of a larger bus and squinted at Coop. Her eyes widened when she saw the bat in Bender’s hand, and she sprinted toward the car.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said. “Put the bat down, Bender. I know this guy.”
“Says he’s Willow’s uncle,” Bender said. “That right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “He hung out with us last night at the bar. He is who he says he is, okay? Let me deal with him.”
Bender backed off. “I just wanted to be sure, Gina.”
Gina placed a hand on Bender’s shoulder. “I know. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Bender handed the bat off to Metallica Shirt Guy and stepped up to the car. He smiled at Coop and said, “Well, hey man. Good to meet you. Any family of Willow’s is family to us.”