Born Wrong(25)

“I see. So you prefer the company of men?” I raise my hands up and look over my shoulder again. America's still giving me that look, the dinosaur one, so I turn back to the reporter and drop my arms to my lap. My fingers curl so tight against my jeans that they burn.

“I'm. Not. Gay.” Probably the thousandth time I've fucking said that in my life. Not that I think there's anything wrong with that; I'm just sick of people trying to force some label on me because they don't get me. I play drums, I like to watch horror movies, and I have tattoos on my eyelids. That doesn't mean I want dick in my ass. I'm just this way, and I'm sick of justifying myself to everyone.

“Bisexual?” Pearl asks me. I purse my lips.

“I enjoy moving my cock inside of a woman's vagina.” Not really sure how much clearer I can get than that. Pearl enjoys this, her overly made up face twisting into an expression of pure glee. This, this is why I always beg America not to schedule interviews. These people don't give a fuck about any of us. All they want is a story, and fuck, let's be honest. I'm not all that interesting to them. I'm just the drummer of the second rate band that's along for the ride. I'm not Turner Campbell; I don't have four babies from different mothers like Ronnie. I'm not a train wreck like Hayden, a kidnap victim returned from the depths of horror. No Naomi, risen from the dead and the first and only chick to ever tame the wild beast that is Indecency's lead singer. I'm useless to them. The only way my interview will be worth anything is if she pisses me off. And I'm letting her. I instantly hate myself for it. And then I realize I'm acting exactly like the emo bitch I always get accused of being. And then I just get pissed off.

“But also inside of a man?” Pearl prods. I think she's really enjoying herself here. Nobody is that fucking stupid. I move my grip to the arms of my chair and lean forward.

“Are you dumb, Pearl? Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a child?” This doesn't particularly faze her, but it does get America's attention. I can hear her heels clicking across the floor behind me. I have seconds, maybe, to save this interview. “Look, I'm not gay, okay? Please stop asking me that. Can't we talk about something else? The music maybe? That's why we're here isn't it?” Pearl doesn't look particularly interested in me anymore. She sighs and then yawns, glancing down at the clipboard in front of her.

“Any crushes we should know about?” she asks me, more like it's a required question and less like she actually gives a shit. Naomi's name immediately springs to mind and then dies on my lips. Yeah, that's the last thing I need. To tell the world how pathetic I am. We've all been watching Turner and Naomi's whirlwind romance. I scramble for something to say while Pearl looks on, getting more interested by the moment. She probably thinks I'm trying to comb through my hundred butt buddies. Fucking fuck. I mean, I don't really care what she thinks, but Jesus. I just want people to know me. That's it.

“Sydney Charell.” It pops right out of my mouth like it's been summoned. The words sit there in front of my face, letters swimming round and round in my blurring vision. Aw, shit. Shit. Man. Shit. “I … ” Have no idea what to say. Pearl looks confused for a moment, rustling her papers and then tossing them aside for her iPad. After a moment, understanding dawns on her face.

“So you're in love with Treyjan's sister? Interesting. That's interesting. So you might say, Trey's tragedy was your miracle?”

“Huh, what? No. No. I didn't say I was in love with her. I just … And my miracle? I'm sorry. I don't follow.” This isn't the live interview. This isn't the live interview. I just keep repeating that to myself. Somebody, probably Pearl, is going to write this shit up and post in on the Rockersbloodpills.com site. The TV interview comes later. I can't fucking wait.

“Trey getting shot was the best thing that ever happened to you. If he hadn't been shot, Sydney wouldn't have come to town. A stripper with a heart of gold waltzes into your life, takes you by the hand, and really redeems you as a man. Does that sound accurate?”

“That couldn't be further from the truth,” I start, but suddenly, there's a warm body spilling into my arms, a mouth on my mouth. My whole body goes numb, like it's in shock. When sensation starts back up in my limbs, it's with a vengeance. My skin gets tight, my cock gets hard, and my hands curl around the plump curves of a one, Miss fucking Sydney Charell. When her tongue hits mine, it's like an explosion goes off inside of me. I growl, and I never growl. I bite at her fucking face like an animal, eating at her sweet heat and tasting her like I've never tasted another woman before. Sydney smells like summer and wild things, like citrus and fruit groves, like the sea shimmering under the sun. I squeeze her hard, splaying my hands out against her supple flesh, pulling her as tightly against me as I can get. And Pearl? Yeah, uh, fuck Pearl.