Catfish and the Bottlemen Imagines

Under My Skin - 8 - Bondy

We stood in the underground car park, gaping at the van, its weathered white broad side before us.

Last year Miriam had bought kids' window markers to help keep us occupied, and after months on the road the windows gleamed like they were made of stained glass, our brightly-colored drawings and goofy sayings covering every inch of their insides.

But now they were streaked with cracks, crossing the glass like nasty spiderwebs in a basement wall. The sliding door below them was even worse, its white paint barely visible over the smeared rust and dirt from the impact. The gaping hole where whoever the fuck did this had let their vehicle crash at top speed into ours, before they'd driven away like a coward.

The worst was the bonnet. I couldn't even tell where the headlight was supposed to go among the gnarled wreckage. The metal looked frail, like a crumpled paper napkin. The smell of oil filled the air as a consistent drip from the undercarriage added to the pool of it on the concrete floor.

"Fuck this. Who the hell did this?!"

Cassie said what we were all thinking -- she and I, Artemis, Miriam, our tour and crew managers, and Johnny and Van. We stood shivering in the November cold, bundled in our coats and scarves, frozen with cold and shock.

"Must have been drunk, or high, or...full of venomous rage?"

Van tried to lighten the situation but succeeded only in earning a further glare from Cassie. His face fell into a sympathetic frown, and he put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing soothingly. Her eyes dropped closed as she took a deep breath.

"Right," I said, my voice hoarse. "What do we do, Dan?"

I turned to our crew manager, the only one who seemed to have kept a level head. He'd been on his phone, talking in quick speech a few meters away, but now he returned, banged his hand in mock amusement on the sliver remaining of intact hood.

"Well, luckily you're fully insured, and the company thinks it will be fully covered. But who knows when we'll get a replacement - gonna be at least a few days."

I felt a hand on my bicep, a squeeze. Artemis. She was so selfless, always worried about my comfort and that of the other girls, instead of her own. I put my gloved hand over hers and grasped it in thanks.

"...And of course the equipment's all safe," Dan was saying as he tipped his chin at the pickup and trailer across the garage -- "so we just need to figure out talent transportation."

Someone was behind the van, a crew member, probably. They'd been knocking at the vehicle's sides, inspecting the damage while Dan spoke. Now they emerged from behind it, and my brow furrowed. It was Artemis, shaking her head in silent fury.

Wait, then who--

"You can just ride with us."

Johnny's voice was startlingly close to my ear, and I whirled in shock. It had been his hand on my arm, warming me, soothing me with his touch; his hand I'd grasped in mine. I jumped away from him, feeling the blood flow to my cheeks.

But he gave me only a quick glance, then looked to Van.

"We've plenty of room. Bus isn't fancy, but it's spacious. And we're going to the same place, like."

He shrugged and pulled out his cigarettes. Then his eyes slid over the oil-slicked floor and gnarled vehicle, and he thought better of it, replacing them with a chuckle in his pocket.

"Yeah, of course, just ride with us!" Van smiled at Cassie, taking her hand and swinging it like a five-year-old on a playground. "It'll be class, we'll let you have all the least-stained seats, yeah?"