Real Ugly(6)

“Must be nice having so much pussy onboard,” I say as I cup my hand around the cig and light up. The wind's starting to blow pretty hard out here. “So much cock on my bus that I wake up every morning choking on dick.” God, I wish I could get some blow. “Got any coke?” I ask real quick. Guy looks like he's about to burst the veins in his neck. The dude, whoever he is, snorts, but he doesn't leave. I think he wants to move past me, but knows better than to try. “Know anybody I could score some off of?”

“No.” Real short and sharp. This guy doesn't like me. I smile.

“What's your name?” I ask as I flick the butt of my cigarette to the ground and run my tongue over my lips.

“Dax.”

“No last name, Dax? You're a real rock star, aren't you?” I laugh and move away without waiting for him to answer. I don't really give a shit what he has to say. Some guy from a B-list band isn't my problem. These pretty boy drummers are a dime a dozen.

I wind my way through the trailers and buses, bracing myself by putting my hands up against the sides. The world is fuzzy around the edges and spinning like a fucking tilt-a-whatever. I just need to find my bus and climb into bed. Shouldn't be hard to find anyway. It's the biggest, nicest, one of them all.

Just as it should be.

“Turner!”

“Aw, fuck me,” I growl as I continue on and ignore the pound of footsteps behind me. I'm not in the frame of mind to deal with Milo's shit today. “Leave me alone.”

“Things aren't like they used to be, Turner. This isn't the eighties. Rock stars have to do more than just drink and fuck. You've got an image to maintain.”

“Yeah?” I pull my phone out of my pocket, snap an Instagram shot of my face and post it every-fucking-where. Status: Late night out, bitches. Enjoy. I reach into my pants, snap another shot and post that, too. From behind me, Milo groans.

“You're going to get banned for that,” he says as I grab the handle to the door and pull it open. I slam it in his face and lock it, not caring that he has nowhere else to go. He can hang out on his iPad and do PR work, fix the mess I just made. And then he can get me a cup of coffee in the morning. I'm sure he'll be just fine. Guys like Milo don't need sleep. They get all their energy from sucking the life out of others.

I kick beer cans and boxes aside, cursing as I stumble towards the back. All the bunks are full, including mine. At first I think it's Treyjan, and I get all pissy, but then I pull the covers back and find myself with a nice, little surprise.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” I say as I examine the half-naked girl curled up in my sheets. She raises her head and smiles at me.

“Your bandmates let me in. I hope … I hope that's okay.” I look the girl up and down again, and a grin curls the edges of my lips.

“Oh yeah, sexy,” I tell her as I kick off my boots and slip under the covers. “That's more than okay with me.”



Milo wakes me up in the morning by thrusting a cup of coffee under my nose. The smell of it makes me sick to my stomach.

“Get that out of my fucking face,” I snap as my eyes water, and I struggle to sit up without bumping my head on the top bunk. When I put my hand out to brace myself, I come up against a bit of soft, warm flesh. It's a girl, of course. It always is. I've got one in my bed every night, same as the fucking pillow under my head. Unfortunately for her, the pillow's the only one that gets to stay. The blonde smiles up at me, and I smile back.

“Good morning,” she whispers, snuggling closer to my arm.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I say as I lean down and lock lips with hers. All the while, I'm aware that Milo is standing there clutching my coffee in tight fingers and frowning. I consider fucking the girl again, just to screw with his head, but at second glance, she isn't so pretty in the morning light. I pull away and keep smiling.

“I don't mean to rush your good-byes, but we have to leave. We're on a tight schedule here, Turner. All unauthorized personnel need to get off the bus.” Both the girl and me ignore my manager's whining.

“I had a good time last night,” she says, nibbling her lower lip and running her fingers up my arm. When she reaches under the blankets, I stop her with a gentle grip around the wrist. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I kiss her knuckles softly and look out from under my lashes. Think it's a chick trick? Guess you've never fucking tried it. Women love long eyelashes.

“Me, too, babe,” I say as I press her hand against her chest and notch my smile up to a grin. “If I hook you up with a backstage page, you think maybe you can catch me at another show?” She nods vigorously and brushes some bleach blonde behind her ear. I tap her under the chin and wink, turning away before she can get another word out and slapping my feet on the gleaming wood floor of the bus.