Real Ugly(44)

One little secret has changed everything.

This is exactly why I hate them so much. Nothing good ever comes from keeping one. If Naomi had told me she was pregnant, I would've … What, Turner? Married her? Swept her off her feet? I spit at the floor. Fuck. I probably would've told her to do exactly what it was that she'd done.

I wish my brain wasn't so scrambled, and in that moment, I know I'll do anything to feel like myself. Coke will help. I know it will. A few bumps and I'll be me again – strong, prepared, ready for fucking anything. I've worked too hard to let something like this bring me down, and hell, why should it? Why should I give a shit at all? Fuck Naomi Knox.

I hit the bus and fly up the steps, storming into the back where we keep the good shit, stuffed into a locked drawer, so our fucking roadies don't skim off of us. As I'm digging around, pulling out an obscene amount of cocaine, in walks the woman of the hour, Miss Naomi fucking Knox.

I turn around with an eight ball in hand expecting to see Jesse or Treyjan or Ronnie.

My heart starts to pump furiously at the sight of her and my cock gets rock hard. I squeeze the bag of cocaine so hard that I can feel the plastic bulging beneath my fingers, getting ready to burst open and spill white powder across the floor.

Naomi is standing there in her white button up and short skirt, eyes narrowed on me and hands shaking. We're no more than eight feet apart, and the air between us is red hot. My jeans feel tight, and my lower back is drenched with sweat. Fuck. Naomi is pretty, but I've been with lots of pretty girls. It's not just that, but I have no clue what the fuck it is. I take a tentative step forward.

“What do you want?” I ask her, and I can see her lip curling, can tell she wants to tell me to fuck off and leave her alone, but she's the one that came here, so I'm going to ask the questions. “And how the fuck did you get in here?” Naomi pauses in the doorway and the pin that's holding her shirt together comes loose, gaping open and flashing me the bra that was peeking out from beneath, giving me a nice, long, uninterrupted view of a smooth belly and the silver skull piercing that's stuck through her bellybutton.

“Your bouncer likes me better than you apparently,” she says, and although I can tell she's trying to come across as snarky and apathetic, it isn't working. There's a quaver there, like she isn't a hundred percent sure of herself. Naomi bites her lip hard and closes her eyes, shaking her head and taking a small step back. “I … don't know why I even came here. I … ” Naomi lets her eyes flick open and cuts me into pieces with her stare.

I want nothing more than to charge through the space between us and grab her hard, possess her, change the looks she gives me from disgusted to admiring. But she's like a frightened kitty cat, standing there, ready to run away and never look back. I move carefully, ignoring the pain in my bandaged arm for the moment. If I think about it, I'll just get pissed again.

I walk forward, forcing myself to take my eyes from hers and focus on something else, something inanimate, something that won't judge me with every blink of its long, dark eyelashes. I grab my wallet from the drawer in the kitchen and sit down at the table, using my credit card to lay out four perfect lines – two for me and two for her.

“Sit,” I tell her, noticing as I do that my hands are shaking already. What the fuck? I should've just gone out and found a nice girl from the audience to make me feel better. That would've taken my mind off things for sure. Maybe I'm so screwed up because I haven't fucked in days? Jesus. Since losing my virginity at age thirteen, this is the longest I've ever gone without sex. All this holding out for Naomi is going to drive me nuts.

I pull a twenty from my wallet and roll it into a tube, leaning over the table and pressing one end to my nose, the other to the line of white on the granite surface below. Holding one nostril closed with my finger, I sniff up the bump and snort hard, absorbing the drug into my system while Naomi watches from the doorway.

“I didn't come here to do coke with you, Turner.” Naomi pauses and tucks some hair behind her ear. Her eyes are conspicuously dry today, like a dust storm's just come through and coated them with a fine layer of dirt. I wonder what would happen if I wet them a little? After all, can't complain about a wet girl on my bus, not even if it's Naomi Knox. “I came here to warn you.”

“Warn me?” I ask as I snort the other line and gather the rest of the powder together with my credit card, sniffing up the last remnants, making sure I get every last spec. “About what? You? You gonna come at me with a knife again?” God, dude, you are a fucking dick. I realize that, but I don't do a thing to change it. When I thought I had a kid, even for that brief period, I was going to. I had a reason. Now? Not really. Things were good before Naomi; they can be again. Sure, she's intriguing, but I can't let her consume me like this. I saw what obsession did to Ronnie, and he's fucked up good. I should feel blessed that there's no kid.