Real Ugly(8)

“Hey, if I touched your friend, it's because she wanted me to.” I snap my fingers and lean in close. “Oh yeah, and it's none of your damn business.” Hands come out quick and hit my chest, knocking me back a step. Mostly from surprise. She isn't as tough as she thinks.

“Next time you pass out on my bus, I take payment from you in the form of diseased body parts.” She waves her hand at my dick and then tries to turn away. My fingers on her shoulder spin her around and this time, she hits me right in the face.

“You fucking bitch,” I snarl as she stands her ground and stares me down. “I could have you kicked off the tour for that shit. Or thrown in jail. Who the hell do you think you are?” The woman raises her chin and takes a deep breath while the wind teases her dirty blonde hair around her soft face. She's acting fierce, but I can see right through her. This chick is vulnerable, half ready to crack. Wonder if I could help her along a little? Broken souls are my specialty.

“My name is Naomi Knox,” she says and then takes a step closer to me, so close that the toes of our shoes touch and her breasts brush up against my chest. Almost immediately, my cock springs to attention and gets hard as a fucking rock, expanding along the length of my thigh and pressing against the tight fabric of my jeans. Fuck that hurts. Guess this my penance for wearing girls' pants. “And I'm not afraid of you, Turner Campbell, so fuck off.”

She spins on her heel and smacks me across the cheek with her hair. As she moves away, I see something in her face. I don't know what it is, but her words trigger something else in me. I know I've met this girl before, and I'm not going to rest until I figure out where.





Shit.

Even sober, Turner Campbell still recognizes me. My face at least, if no longer my name. As hard as that is to believe. I saw it in his eyes. I knew taking that jacket over there was a mistake. I should've just thrown it away. Then why didn't you, Naomi? Did you actually want to see him? I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. Watching him onstage last night wasn't the smartest move to make. It almost made me forget, and I can never, ever let that happen.

“Thanks for last night,” Hayden says as I walk past. She's leaning against the side of the bus smoking a joint and wearing a purple jersey that does nothing to cover her small tits or her lacy panties. She doesn't even care that half the roadies have hard-ons, and the other half are trying to melt her with laser-eyed glares. I snatch it from her lips and throw it to the ground, pulling the door to the bus open and hopping up the steps. “Hey!” she shouts, way too slow on the uptake. She drops to her knees and digs around the shrubs for it.

“It's seven o'clock in the morning, Hayden.” She doesn't remember last night at all which is a fucking blessing. She'd either be furious about fucking Turner or ecstatic. Frankly, I'm not sure which and that scares me. Nobody bothers to fill her in.

I pause in the kitchen and stare at Kash and Wren slumped over bowls of cereal, milk dribbling from their chins as they scoop soggy bits into their mouths and focus on the wall with twin zombie stares. Looks like I'm the only one who didn't have a good time last night.

“Was he as pleasant this morning as he was last night?” Dax asks, scooting past me and diving into the cabinets above the stove. I stare at his shirtless back and try to focus on the words etched along his shoulder blades. Born to Bleed. I lean against the counter and close my eyes. I guess there's no sense in pretending, but I do it anyway.

“Who?” Dax snorts and slams the cabinets closed, taking a bag of pretzels along with him as he spins to face me.

“Turner. Who else? You know, I had no idea how easy it could be to hate someone. What a fucking entitled asshole. He thinks because he dropped a couple hundred thousand albums that he owns the world?” I shrug and pretend I'm not interested in this conversation. I can't be. I don't have time for this. I've got better shit to do. Like write new music. God knows I'm the only one that'll fucking do it.

I open my eyes and look up as Hayden stumbles onto the bus and glares at me, flipping me the bird before retreating into the back and collapsing onto her bunk. Hey, she can hate me all she wants, but I need her to sing tonight. And as long as I don't push her too far, our secret is safe. With a sigh, I push myself forward and head off in search of our manager. She's great at composing Tweets, starting threads, and blogging about us, but when it comes to real life shit like making sure we get to our next gig on time, eh. I could do a better job. I check the bunks in my search for her and come up empty-handed. All I end up finding is Blair jacking herself off which actually doesn't interest me much. She's a pretty girl and all, but I was born with this horrible affliction that leaves me attracted to men. Why haven't they invented a cure for that shit yet? Check the facts. It's the world's deadliest disease. I kid you not.