Chuck laughed. "Why sure. Find a few more groupies and send them back here. And make sure they bring some tequila." He grinned at Buck then shook free of his bandmate's grip. "Chip!" he shouted toward the front of the bus. "Little help, please." I didn't know who Chip was: the only one up front was Gabe. Before I could inquire, Chuck disappeared into the bedroom.
"Fucker," Buck muttered and flipped a finger in Chuck's direction. He stood with his back to me, facing the bedroom, seething. Jason had called this one, too. Anger and hatred poured from Buck, and it touched a sensitive spot in me. Just like Palmer, who easily got angry, Buck was disturbingly touchy. Sure, Chuck had just played a prank on him, but most guys I knew laughed off that sort of thing.
After a few seconds, Buck started to climb back into his cubicle. Then he noticed me and stopped. After staring for a second, he shot out a short laugh. "Welcome to hell." With a shake of his head, he finished climbing into his cubicle and closed the curtain.