Get Bent (21 page)

We get there pretty quick, even with the dragging entourage of buses and RVs. Naomi spends the rest of the drive scribbling in that notebook, pressing the pen to the page so hard I'm afraid it's going to break and splatter black across that beautiful fucking face of hers. She probably doesn't realize it, but when she's bent over like that, golden hair falling over her shoulder and kissing the page, she's that kind of breaking pretty, the one that men war over. Just looking at her is driving me friggin' nuts.

Soon as we come to a stop, I stand up and watch as her eyes follow me.

“I'll have Ronnie come keep you company while I hunt down Dax.” Naomi stares at me, dressed in my T-shirt and not a whole lot else. If I don't get out of this room, I'm going to go insane. I glance at her notebook page and grab glimpses of gravestones and broken hearts, knives and pistols, books with torn pages, angel wings. There are words there, too, but they're so small and cramped that I can't read any of them.

“Be careful,” she says, and that's it. She goes back to her writing.

I unlock the door and end up running chest to chest into Trey. Without a moment's hesitation, I shove him in the chest and knock him back. He stares at me with wide eyes and doesn't bother to keep his voice down when he speaks.

“I knew it. I knew it was true. You're keeping a woman in there, you sick son of a bitch.”
God fucking damn it.
“I know you're missing Naomi, but shit, man. You took a girl from the concert?” I don't know what to say to that. How do I correct him without giving anything away? Milo, Jesse, and Josh are starting to stare. Our driver turns up her music. “Was she willing?”

“Oh for shit's sake, Trey. Fuck you. What kind of question is that?” My friend holds up his hands and then drops one to his hair, so he can rake his fingers through it like a neurotic nut bag. “You ever ask me something like that again, and I'll deck you.” I see Milo coming down the hall towards us. Great. Just great. Now what?

“Turner,” he starts, adjusting the lapel on his suit and licking his lips nervously. “You brought a woman on the bus?” I lean against the wall with my arm up. I've got to deal with this shit right or it's going to fuck not only me but Naomi, too.

“You got a fucking problem with that? It's in my name, isn't it? If I want to bring a tagalong chick with me, what's the issue?” I raise my chin and give them both my most arrogant look.
See me, Turner fucking Campbell. I am God right now, so you better bow down before me.
This sort of shit's never been hard for me to pull off. I mean, I've never even had to try for it. It's just the way I was. Right now, it sort of feels like bullshit.

“She … is she over eighteen?” I roll my eyes and slump against the wall, keeping the door between my legs, one foot in, one out.

“Oh Christ, Milo,” I say, looking up at the ceiling. “Really? Since when have I ever gone after jailbait?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I blanch. Milo notices and looks closely at me. After a moment, he waves Trey away. My friend grumbles and cusses him out, but he listens, tossing me dirty looks as he goes. I'm never going to be able to explain this shit to him. He wouldn't understand.

Naomi was sixteen when we first fucked. God. What was I thinking? I am completely and utterly going to screw this shit up.

“Are you alright?” Milo asks me, looking concerned. I wish I could trust him, tell him everything and let him deal with it. That's what I've always done. But not this. I can't tell anybody else about this, especially not when Dax might be fucking with us.

“Everything's fine, Milo. She just doesn't want to be sensationalized. Don't worry about it. She's not a prisoner back here, are you, babe?” I look in at Naomi who's sitting there staring at me with wide, wide eyes. I have no clue what's going on inside them, but whatever it is, it's scaring the shit out of me.

“I'm doing fine, cupcake,” she trills, mimicking Skinny Bitch's voice. She's pretty good at it, too. “Just hanging ten with my honey bear.” I give her a look, but she's not really in the mood to patronize me. “We're in love. Everything's going to be just peachy.” I roll my eyes back to Milo who looks, admittedly, a little terrified.

“Is this another stalker?” he whispers, and I snort. I've actually had a few of those. You'd be surprised at what some of these chicks are capable of. I thought only dudes did that sort of shit. Not true.

“It's fine,” I tell Milo, but I have a pretty good feeling he's not going to leave this alone without seeing her. I try to cook up something good, but he interrupts me.

“Turner,” he says softly, putting a hand on my arm. I tense, but I don't shove him away. He
knows
I hate being fucking touched, but he's willing to go for it. Why? “I've known you for a long time now, and I've only seen you this beat up once before, when I pulled you from that hotel room. Since then, this is the first time I've really
seen
you look at the world with a different set of eyes. Naomi was special to you, don't just jump on the first girl that comes along because you miss her. You can't stop hoping that she's still out there somewhere.” I just stand there and stare into Milo's blue eyes. There is no way in fuck I'm looking back at Naomi. There is so much wrong with what he just said that I don't even know where to begin.

“The hotel room?” I ask, but I already know. We all do. What. The. Fuck.

“I came and got you before … you know, things got bad.” Milo leans in close to me. “Please tell me this one isn't underage, too?” I almost throw up in my mouth, right then and there. “Stick with Naomi, with the hope of Naomi. She's the best choice you've ever made.”

“You pulled me from a hotel room?” I whisper. The bus is dead silent right now, ringing with revelations.
No.

“The girl was sixteen, Turner,” Milo says, and I'm hoping to hell he's really as innocent as he sounds, that he doesn't know anything beyond what he's saying. If so, he's a dead man. “You were devastated for weeks after that.” He leans back and gives me a strange look. “You don't remember?” I think back to that night, past all my recently recovered memories, and all I can come up with are weeks of drinking and slamming and smoking. Was I mourning the loss of a girl I didn't even remember? Jesus H. Christ. My heart slams in my chest and my head feels light and fuzzy.

“She's not underage, she's willing, and she's not going anywhere. Leave her the fuck alone, alright? I'm going out.”

I shove past Milo and slam the door behind me. They'll keep out or I'll kill them. They know it; I know it. I storm down the hall and out the door, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, not stopping until I'm swimming through the warm dark on my way to Terre Haute's bus. My pulse pounds in my head and my eyelids flutter closed as I bend over and put my hands on my knees.

And the plot thickens.

Fuck.

I put together a loose timeline for myself:
I see Naomi at the concert getting roughed up, I help her out, we have fun, get tats, go up to a hotel room. She blows me in the elevator, I fuck her good, she falls asleep. Milo shows up and 'rescues' me from getting my ass thrown in jail and slammed with a sex offender charge. I don't remember shit and I mourn a friggin' feeling, like some chick flick hero in a world of autumn. I fuck myself up and forget all about it. And now here I am, getting rammed up the ass with revelations. Great. Just fucking fantastic.

“Hey.”

I snap to attention and see Dax standing a few feet in front of me, arms bare, ghost tattoos bright under the moonlight. He's wiped off most of his makeup, so for the first time ever, I can actually read what's tattooed on the backs of his eyelids. The silver light from above makes the two words pop straight out at me when he blinks.
Born Wrong.
One word on the right eye, one on the left.

“What the fuck, man?” I ask, taking my anger and my frustration out on him. Either he's an enemy, a lying, backstabbing cock sucker, or he's a rival in love. So yeah, I get pissy with him, and I don't feel bad about it. “Where the fuck have you been? Running off to that trailer with Hayden to scope out the crime scene? Try and figure out how to keep Naomi from escaping next time?”

Dax just stands there and watches me rant. After a minute, I get pissed and shove him hard in the chest. He stumbles back and grits his teeth, but that's about it.

“Hayden was showing me where she was kept while she was held captive. She said the trailer was where Naomi was being held, tried to get me to come up with a plan to get her out.”

“Bullshit.” I point at him with an accusatory finger. “You're fucking in on this, aren't you?” Dax wrinkles his nose in anger and scowls.

“First of all, keep your voice down, you stupid fuck. Second, I would
never
do anything to hurt Naomi. I love her. More than you could ever understand. You say you do, but what do you know? You're a playboy partier with a bad attitude and too much money. You don't deserve her, Turner, and you've already won, do you know that? I'm no idiot. It's over for me. I knew that the second I heard her tell you about the abortion, but it's taken me this long to figure it out. There's not going to be a contest for me. I don't even get a
chance.
So shut your mouth and listen to me.” Dax takes a deep breath and I drop my hand to my side.
Shit.
“Hayden was a part of this, but she bargained her way out. She doesn't feel good about it, but she's not ready to crack yet. She doesn't know everything, but she knows at least one person who's involved.” He licks his lips.

“Is it Katie, Naomi's foster sister?” I ask, but Dax just shrugs.

“She won't say yet. She's still scared about something.” Dax glances over his shoulder and gets in close. “There's a picture,” he begins, and I interrupt him.

“Naomi has it.” Dax pauses, nods, sighs.

“Okay, good. Let me see if I can talk Hayden into telling me something. If I can't, I think your best bet is to bring Naomi out into the open.” I take a step forward, and he holds up his hands, which are actually bare for once, gives me a look. “Hear me out. If she's hidden, she can be captured again and nobody would know but us. I know she doesn't want to deal with the FBI or whatever, but sooner or later, they're going to figure it out, if they haven't already. She might be on their radar now for all the fuck we know. I mean, think about it, man. They're cops; we're musicians. They have the upper hand when it comes to this shit.”

I know that what Dax is saying makes sense, but I don't feel ready to share Naomi yet. I want to keep her all to myself. Is that fucked? Besides, I'm worried. Terrified maybe. Now that I've suffered through her dying once, I don't think I can handle it again. If something really were to happen to her, I would just flip shit and die. It's that bad. The love has sunk that deep into me and taken over. I am thoroughly and utterly poisoned, baby.

“Hayden will break,” Dax says with a contemplative note in his voice, like maybe he isn't sure he even wants her to. “Give her time to repent before you go after her, alright?” I get out a smoke and try not to imagine the conversation Naomi and I might be having when I get back to the bus.
The hotel. Milo. Fuck.
My hands shake as I light up.

“I could use a hit right now,” I tell Dax, but he doesn't respond to that. Pretty, little, emo drummer boy can play pussy face all day long, but I know he's full of shit. I saw him score acid off Jason, our roadie, not too long back. The dude wears a skirt, so he's not hard to miss. Doesn't exactly make him the world's most inconspicuous drug dealer.
Idiot.

There's a long, awkward silence while gray smoke drifts in the air between us.

“You into that chick?” I ask him.

“Her name is Hayden and no, I'm in love with Naomi.” I blow smoke in his face, but he doesn't react. “Just because I can't have her doesn't mean I'll stop, that my feelings will just go away. I'll do whatever I can for her, the same way I would if she were with me. Love's kind of fucked that way, isn't it?”

Dax turns and starts to walk away, and I have no clue what to say back to that. Maybe there's nothing to say at all? Guess, I should just turn and accept my supposed victory with grace. Thing is, it doesn't feel like a victory at all. If Naomi stays true to her roots, thick headed and stubborn as shit, nothing will ever come of this. I'll help her solve her mystery and she'll take the stage like the goddess she is. But I won't be by her side for it.

“Fuck.” I throw my cigarette down and crush the burning ember with my boot, hoping this whole thing with Milo doesn't do the same to the growing attraction between Naomi and me.
Time to be a man and deal with this shit once and for all. Talk it out. Get it over with.
I ascend the steps and move quickly through the bus before anyone can start asking me stupid questions.

I pause outside the door to collect my breath and push my way in, finding Naomi already asleep on the bench. Ronnie sits across from her, eyes droopy and face in a crooked half-smile.

“What?” I ask, feeling frustrated. When my friend looks up and over at me, his smile turns into a grin.

“You and this girl,” he says, rising to his feet with a groan and putting a hand on my shoulder. I brush it off irritably and listen to him chuckle. “You two have got a future together.”

And with that cryptic message, Ronnie turns and leaves me with nothing but my thoughts for company.