“First night of the tour, Treyjan and I had a little fun against the back of your tour bus.” Naomi looks over her shoulder at Turner and smiles wickedly. “I almost forgot about it because I was piss ass drunk, and I'm pretty sure he's avoiding me. But I was trying to figure out why he seemed so … ” Naomi licks her lower lip. “Familiar.” Wish I could explain the look on Turner's face. I definitely don't envy Trey their next interaction.
A knock at the door breaks us all out of the conversation. Glances are exchanged.
“I'll get it,” Turner says, moving to the door with a frozen burrito clutched in his hand. I open my mouth to tell him to check the damn peephole, but of course, he doesn't. He wrenches the door open, and I expect we'll see cops or Milo or one of the guys. Nope. Instead, standing at the door with watering eyes and shaking hands is Lola fucking Saints.
My first instinct is to cross the room and take her in my arms. That feeling alone is enough to knock me flat with shock. I sit down hard on the bed and watch as she steps into the room. Turner closes the door behind her and immediately, she falls against it and rests there with her eyes shut tight.
“Are you okay?” Naomi asks, adjusting herself on the bed, so she's facing Lola. “Did something happen to you?” I wonder if she's thinking about Cohen. I know I am. Lola opens her eyes and the blast of emotion in them makes my hands tremble. They're so blue it's unreal, like she's wearing contacts or something. I get the strongest urge to sit her on my lap and watch her play the drums. Just the thought makes me hard as a rock, my cock straining against the fabric of my jeans like it's possessed. Down boy. Even I can see that now is not the appropriate time. Something's wrong; I can tell.
Lola's still wearing the same clothes from last night, minus the jacket and the shoes. She's got on flats and a frown that could crush mountains. She takes several deep breaths before speaking.
“Are we alone in here?” is her first question. Never a good precursor. She looks down at the floor and her dark hair falls across her face, shielding her eyes.
“As far the fuck as I know,” Turner says, putting his hands on his hips and taking a step back from her. I don't blame him. Neither he or Naomi really knows Lola. Fuck, I don't even know her. But it feels like I do, like we've known each other forever. Asuka, tell me this is okay, that these feelings don't make me a bad person. That I can love you forever, but still find someone else to bring into my heart, someone to fill that hole inside of me and take away the pain.
“Put some music on,” she says quietly, removing her hand from the jacket and bringing out a knife. Immediately Turner goes for her, but Lola just drops it onto the floor by his feet. “Please?” Turner pauses and looks at Naomi then over at me. I nod at him and he tosses his phone onto the table, pulling up our playlist and starting 'Breaking Pretty'. That's how Lola looks to me right now. A broken pretty, a shattered beautiful, something that could cut a person up and leave them in pieces, something that they'd go crawling back to, bloody and begging for more.
“What's going on?” Naomi asks, her voice hard and dark, full of suspicion and unspoken threats. I watch Lola carefully and wait with my heart pounding in my chest. I fucking trust her even though I know that's irrational, that I'm being blinded by a pretty face and big tits. But then, that's not true, is it? I've had plenty of pretty girls, but none that grabbed me like this, held me so tight I could barely breathe. And from a single look, too.
Lola looks up and grabs me with her eyes, holding me in place like I've been chained. I can't look away. Something changes in the air, like it's suddenly stale and full of rotting secrets. Turner's always believed secrets kill, and now, here, without even knowing what Lola's going to say, I'd have to agree. Something isn't right. Something here is ugly. Real ugly. And totally and completely fucked.
And that's just my initial impression.
“I have to tell you something,” Lola says, her beautiful accent caressing the gray matter between my ears, seducing my soul and promising sweet things in dark places. I run my hands up and down my arms to keep myself from standing up and going over to her. “You're not gonna like it. And it's going to – ” Lola scoffs and shakes her head like she can't believe she's doing this. “Fuck me. I knew I should've gotten fried before coming over.” Lola rubs at her eyes for a moment and crosses her arms under her breasts. I focus my gaze on her tattoos, on the drum kit on her belly, the colorful birds up her arms. She's a piece of artwork, one I'd like to study the hell out of.
“I'm not going to lie,” Naomi says, checking Lydia to make sure she's still asleep. Thankfully, it looks like she's still out. “This is gettin' a little weird. I don't mean to be rude or anything, but we're going through a lot of tough shit right now. We don't have time for games.” Instead of getting angry or defensive, Lola just laughs.
“I know. That's why I'm here. I should've come a lot sooner. I … I guess I'm a bloody fucking coward. I … but I can't wait anymore. I have to do this before it's too late.” Lola sighs, but she keeps her focus on me. When she next speaks, her words are so quiet, almost drowned out by Turner's powerful vocals, rabbit-punching the shit out us, even though it's just a recording.
“And when you're gone, I'll still be left in pieces, scattered across the face of this motherfucking, godforsaken earth.”
“I know who killed that roadie, Marta.”
Fucking silence just shitting everywhere. Pure, unadulterated silence.
“I know because I … I did it.” Lola's chest starts heaving like she's having a panic attack. Tears bite at her eyes and stream down her cheeks. Oddly enough, she smiles. “Feels so damn good to say it!” she screams, running a hand through her hair. She keeps looking at me, straight at me. Frankly, I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing. “I mean, I don't know if I actually struck the killing blow, but I was there. It was me and my band. Every single member of Ice and Glass plus one, your brother, Eric.”
“Foster brother,” Naomi growls, but surprisingly, that's all she has to say. Turner's standing there with his lips in a dangerously neutral position, his fingers crawling across the table towards the cigarette.
“We were there and we did it, and we handed Naomi off to Eric.” Lola blows out a rush of air.
“Why?”
I don't realize I've spoken until Lola's eyes fill with tears again.
“I'm so sorry, Ronnie.” She looks over at my friends. “Turner, Naomi. I'm so fucking sorry. It eats me up every damn day.”
“Why?” Me again. I'm trying not to feel betrayed here, but as I think about it, the pieces start to fall into place.
“Because our sponsor told us to. His name's Tyler Rutledge. I don't know anything about him, where he's from, why he's doing this, but he wants every single member of Indecency and Amatory Riot to suffer, and then he wants you gone.”
“The fuck?” Turner growls, getting up in her face, putting a hand on her shoulder and shoving her back. I can't see Lola's expression, but my blood gets hot, and I find myself rising to my feet. “Why the fuck are you in here telling us this? What the hell is going on?” He flings a hand out towards Naomi who's doing her best to lay Phoebe carefully on the bed, putting a pillow on either side of her to make sure she doesn't roll off. “You could've gotten her killed, or worse!”
“I know, I know,” Lola says as I come up behind Turner and put my hand on his arm. He knocks me away and spins around, pulling his shades down to glare at me.
“I know you've got a hard-on for her dude, and I was happy for you. I saw something in your face that made me think it was possible, really fucking possible for you to find someone you liked as much as Asuka.” He says her name freely for what has got to be the first time in years, just throws it out there in my face. Instead of crippling pain and agony, I feel something else, a voice in my head. Everyone makes mistakes, Ronnie. Some of us just realize it sooner than others. The important thing is that when we do, we try to make amends for the hurt we've caused. That's all any human being can really ask of another.
Asuka.
“Turner, relax. Listen to what she has to say. She didn't have to come here or tell us any of this.” I look down at Lola, and I just can't help myself. My arms slide around her waist, and before I know it, she's tucked under my chin, curled against me like she was born to be there. I kiss her hair and breathe in her scent and I know, even though it's only been days, that this is who I was looking for. This is the person I've spent years wishing was by my side. I miss Asuka, and I'll love her until the day I die, but I can't get her back. One day, in the next life, in Hades, in Hell, in Heaven, where the fuck ever, I'll see her and she'll smile. But for now, for now, I've got Lola warm and comforting, tucked in my arms like a dream, and I'm not letting her go. Of course, maybe I should ask her out on a first date first, but that can come later. I always was a little unconventional. Wonder how long it'll take Lola to realize I'm hooked.
Lola buries her face against my chest for a moment, and then turns around, still tucked in my arms, chin up and eyes proud. I rest my cheek against the back of her head and wait.
Naomi's up now, coming over to stand next to Turner, hands on her hips, eyes locked onto Lola's face. Turner's trembling with anger, and it's understandable. Those few days he thought Naomi might be dead were easily the worst of his life. If she had been gone, it'd have been a double homicide because he never would've survived it.
“My job was,” Lola begins. “Was – it's not anymore – to make Ronnie fall for me, and watch as he fell apart at the seams. I knew Shannon was going to die before she did. Chelsea, too. I could've stopped them, but I didn't. I cared more about my own well-being than I did theirs. Hate me for it if you want, but it's true.” She stiffens a little in my arms, but I don't let up. Why should I? Obviously, something about our interactions together changed her mind. She might've started off out to get me, but she's not right now, and that's all I give a shit about. “Everyone in my band has two targets. I was originally supposed to go after Hayden, too, but something about her caught Tyler's eye. Apparently, he's going to turn her into some sort of pop sensation.” Lola rolls her eyes, and Naomi's get huge.
“I knew it,” she snarls, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I fucking knew it. That little whore. She was in on it all along?” Lola nods her head slowly, looking exhausted. She's so small and fragile, it feels like she could break apart at any moment, morph into a flock of birds to match her tattoos and fly away. I hold on tighter.
“Well, mostly anyway. From right around Denver, I think. But I could be wrong. One day, she was the enemy. The next, a friend.” Lola pauses. “And I use the term loosely.” Naomi's face darkens considerably. There's a lot of history there, too much maybe. She and Hayden would probably be better off going their separate ways. After this, I don't see how they'll have much choice. “I was going to go to the cops with all this last night.” Lola reaches her hands up and curls her fingers around my arms, squeezing tight. “But some of them are dirty.” Naomi and Turner exchange a glance. “I don't know how many, but I couldn't risk trying to pick one out. And then I found out that … ” Her voice goes soft and comes back harder than before, full of rage and frustration, and desperation I can tell she doesn't feel like she deserves. “I found out that they have my sister, and they're not going to let her go until it's all over, until they get what they want.”
“And what's that exactly?” Turner asks, and Lola shakes her head again.
“I don't know what's in it for Tyler, but I can tell you why they're doing it – my bandmates. It's the same reason I started off doing it. Money, fame, popularity. Sounds pretty stupid now that I'm looking at it from this end, but who turns down a deal that promises to turn them into the Gods of Rock. We're supposed to capitalize on all of this fucking crap, these murders and kidnappings and bloody fuck all else. And then, after everyone's been served their slice of shit, we're supposed to finish it with a cherry on top, the ultimate act that'll seal our deal as the next best thing in rock 'n' roll.”
“Huh,” Turner snorts, unconvinced. “And how the hell are you supposed to do that?”
Lola looks him straight in the face when she says it.
“We're supposed to kill you.” Lola switches her attention to Naomi. “Both of you.”
After I spill my guts onto the floor of Ronnie's hotel room, I feel so different. It's hard to describe the change, but it's like I took that truck around my shoulders and went herculean on it, tossing it off into some ditch somewhere to rot. Thank God, because I barely made it down the hall from KK's room. The weight of the world is a heavy fucker to carry. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Might wish genital crabs on 'em maybe, but not that. Soon as those words leave my mouth though, I'm light as a fucking feather.
Ronnie lets me sleep on his bed, and I can vaguely make out voices around me. But it doesn't matter. I earned at least this, this little piece of rest.
“I stand by my philosophy. Secrets fucking kill.”
That's the last thing I hear before I black out completely, waking up to a mostly dark room. There's a single lamp on in the corner, and Naomi Knox is sitting in the chair with her phone in one hand and my knife in the other. When she hears me rustling around, she glances up.
“Sleep tight?” she asks, and I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. I drag myself up and prop some pillows against the headboard.
“Guess so,” I say, looking around the room. Ronnie's babies are gone and the dirty green dress is laying out on the other bed, so I'm guessing they already left for the airport. And I didn't even get to say goodbye, not that I really deserve any kind of relationship with those girls. “Honestly, might've been the best sleep I've had in a while.”
Naomi sets the knife down on the arm of the chair and switches off her phone. She tilts her head to the side and looks straight at me. Her eyes are the strangest color, an orange-brown that reminds me of the sand plains around Mount Conner. Not as dry though. There's a sheen to them that hints at a deeper person underneath the rock star persona and the media frenzy. I don't really know much about her other than what I've read. Strange isn't it, how you can spend so much time in such close quarters with someone and not know a fucking thing about 'em?
“You were there,” she says quietly, and I look down at the blankets. I should've known this was coming. What I talked about earlier was the only the tip of the iceberg. There are a lot of little details I'm going to have to explain. This whole concoction is like a spider's web. Every bit is connected to another. “On the bus. Before I got moved over to Eric's trailer.” I nod because I'm not sure what else to say to that. Yeah, I was there. I kidnapped you. I helped tie you up and keep you hidden for days. Days you were there, and I had the chance to stop it all then, but I didn't. “There was a moment, just one, when somebody tried to – ” I interrupt her.
“Cohen,” I say, wanting her to know everything. I can't keep any of this in anymore. It's just too much. “Cohen Rose.” She keeps staring at me, eyes calm and face neutral. I expected her to be a lot angrier than this.
“You stopped him from raping me. Thank you.” I shake my head and reach up to touch my hair. It's fucking disgusting. I think there might even be dried vomit crusted in it. I smell like a whore's unwashed arse hole, and there Naomi Knox sits, all cleaned up. She's got on a white tank with a red skull on the front, a pair of skintight jeans, and some hot ass boots that I'm itching to swipe. Perfect makeup, perfect hair, an arm full of silver bangles. Fuck you, you bush pig, I think at her as I struggle to get my feet on the ground. It's not often I let myself be seen without looking picture fucking perfect. I like shoes, preferably wrapped in velvet, and tops that show skin. I like to look good, and I like knowing that I look good. Right now, I'm about as attractive as a boar's hairy armpit.
“You don't owe me any thanks,” I say, scooting to the edge of the bed. Naomi nods her head, leaning back in the chair enough that her shirt rides up, and I can finally see the infamous tattoo everyone likes to talk about online. R
eal Ugly. Bunch of wannabe bitches got clones of it a few days back, but there'll only ever really be one. One Naomi Knox. One Rock Goddess. Not sure if she knows it or not, but there aren't many like her out there. The concert before the tornado hit was fucking intense for me. I really respect this bitch.
“No, you're right. I don't. In fact, I should be kicking your ass right now.” I stay seated and wait for her to continue. Obviously, we're not going to get into it. If we were, I'd have probably woken up with half my hair shaved off or a bloody tampon stuck in my nose. It's happened to me before. Poppet. Thinking of my sister's bitchy retaliations towards me just makes me all the more determined to get her out. Somebody with that much spunk shouldn't be trapped like a rat in a cage. Tyler Rutledge, you fuckface. You better watch your ass because next time I see you, I might just decide to go through with all those dark, dirty thoughts. You'll be lucky if the only thing I use on you is a kitchen knife. Naomi leans forward and lowers her voice. It's husky and rich and full of unused potential. I hope that one day, she takes over Amatory Riot and kicks Hayden's ass to the curb. One day soon I suppose. And to think, just a few days ago I was trying to help get rid of them. Funny how quick things can change when you realize your heart's not into it. To get through life, you have to have it. It's a fucking essential. “I have to admire you for coming forward. You're taking a big risk here.” I shake my head again.
“I was risking losing myself before. This here's the easy part.”
Naomi helps me back to my room to get some clothes. Somehow, I keep expecting everyone else to start acting differently just because I am. To them though, nothing's changed. For all they know, the only reason I went into that room was to have a foursome. Best I keep it that way until we can figure out our next move. We. It's not just me in this anymore. I like that.
I make the decision to shower back in Ronnie's room. When he gets back from the airport, I want to be there waiting. I want to see his face and know what he's thinking of me.
Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots) Page 16