might have something, but I need you to answer a question of mine first.” She opens her eyes and cuts me deep. “Where did you get that guitar? We all saw what Naomi did to hers. What the fuck are you trying to pull?” I wet my lips and tap my cigarette ash into a nearby tray. Honesty, my favorite fucking policy. Finally.
“It was left on my bus,” I say, and then I think about that hard for a minute. The guitar. A piece of Naomi, a symbol. Travis' hat. The same. What. The. Fuck. Is going on here? I get the idea that this whole thing goes beyond Naomi, that it's something bigger, something even more frightening than I thought before. Something that started a long, long time ago. My skin erupts in goose bumps and I find myself wrapping an arm across my chest.
Blair continues to stare at me, taking in the white Amatory Riot shirt with the black and red fist, the dark jeans, the boots. She isn't my biggest fan, but I know before she takes a step forward in her ridiculously high heels that she's going to take a chance on me.
“I found this on the bus, under Naomi's mattress. I found it before the show that night. I was going to ask her after, but … ” Blair stops talking and then thrusts the image at my chest. I take it in shaky fingers and unfold it.
Hayden Lee, covered in blood. What a surprise.
“What the fuck?” I ask as the worst friend, the best enemy, I've ever had slinks in and moves over to the side of the bed, dropping to her knees and hovering her hands over my body like she's casting a spell.
“I wish we didn't have so many secrets,” she whispers, sniffling and letting hot, salty tears fall from her eyes and slap the bare skin on my arms. “If we didn't, this might not be happening right now. I'm so sorry, Naomi. I never meant for anything bad to happen to you.”
“Hayden,” I say, trying to appeal to her soft side. Didn't know she had one until now, but shit, if her weeping face and trembling lips are any indication, she feels guilty. I have to play up on that, take advantage and get the fuck out of here. The way she's acting, how her eyes are shifting from side to side, I'm willing to bet that this isn't her trailer. She knows who it belongs to, and she's not supposed to be here. That much is obvious. “Hayden, whatever's happened, whatever you did or I did, it doesn't matter. Just get me out of here, and we'll figure it out. We always have, right? Right?” But she's not listening anymore. Her face is in her skinny hands and she's sobbing like I'm already dead, like this is my funeral and I'm as good as buried. I've always hated the bitch, but right now, I despise her. “Snap the fuck out of it, bitch!” I scream, and I'm proud to hear my voice actually come out properly. Instead of a wheezing gasp, I sound strong, ready, like I could take on anything. It's all a front, of course. Doubt I could hurt a friggin' fly, but it does draw her eyes upward.
“You've been mean to me, Naomi. Always calling me stupid, whispering cruel words behind my back.” Hayden's hand snakes out and grabs me by the hair, pulling tight, squeezing hard. “I should want you here, want you to suffer, but I guess it's just not in me.” She lets go and stands up, dashing away tears, glancing at the clock on the stove. She looks so clean and polished right now. Pisses me off. I feel so grubby and disgusting. I would kill for a fucking shower. Shit. “I have a show soon,” she tells me, confirming my earlier guess that I'm still on the tour. I'm not out in a bunker in the desert. Things are looking up. “ We have a show soon, and I'd be kidding myself I thought we'd survive without you for long.” Hayden turns and gives me a look over her shoulder, reaching up to pull the clip from her hair. Perfectly straight brunette tendrils drip down her back and swing as she whirls around to face me fully. Her nipples are erect and she looks a little too excited for the given situation. “Even with Turner … ” She
“It was left on my bus,” I say, and then I think about that hard for a minute. The guitar. A piece of Naomi, a symbol. Travis' hat. The same. What. The. Fuck. Is going on here? I get the idea that this whole thing goes beyond Naomi, that it's something bigger, something even more frightening than I thought before. Something that started a long, long time ago. My skin erupts in goose bumps and I find myself wrapping an arm across my chest.
Blair continues to stare at me, taking in the white Amatory Riot shirt with the black and red fist, the dark jeans, the boots. She isn't my biggest fan, but I know before she takes a step forward in her ridiculously high heels that she's going to take a chance on me.
“I found this on the bus, under Naomi's mattress. I found it before the show that night. I was going to ask her after, but … ” Blair stops talking and then thrusts the image at my chest. I take it in shaky fingers and unfold it.
Hayden Lee, covered in blood. What a surprise.
“What the fuck?” I ask as the worst friend, the best enemy, I've ever had slinks in and moves over to the side of the bed, dropping to her knees and hovering her hands over my body like she's casting a spell.
“I wish we didn't have so many secrets,” she whispers, sniffling and letting hot, salty tears fall from her eyes and slap the bare skin on my arms. “If we didn't, this might not be happening right now. I'm so sorry, Naomi. I never meant for anything bad to happen to you.”
“Hayden,” I say, trying to appeal to her soft side. Didn't know she had one until now, but shit, if her weeping face and trembling lips are any indication, she feels guilty. I have to play up on that, take advantage and get the fuck out of here. The way she's acting, how her eyes are shifting from side to side, I'm willing to bet that this isn't her trailer. She knows who it belongs to, and she's not supposed to be here. That much is obvious. “Hayden, whatever's happened, whatever you did or I did, it doesn't matter. Just get me out of here, and we'll figure it out. We always have, right? Right?” But she's not listening anymore. Her face is in her skinny hands and she's sobbing like I'm already dead, like this is my funeral and I'm as good as buried. I've always hated the bitch, but right now, I despise her. “Snap the fuck out of it, bitch!” I scream, and I'm proud to hear my voice actually come out properly. Instead of a wheezing gasp, I sound strong, ready, like I could take on anything. It's all a front, of course. Doubt I could hurt a friggin' fly, but it does draw her eyes upward.
“You've been mean to me, Naomi. Always calling me stupid, whispering cruel words behind my back.” Hayden's hand snakes out and grabs me by the hair, pulling tight, squeezing hard. “I should want you here, want you to suffer, but I guess it's just not in me.” She lets go and stands up, dashing away tears, glancing at the clock on the stove. She looks so clean and polished right now. Pisses me off. I feel so grubby and disgusting. I would kill for a fucking shower. Shit. “I have a show soon,” she tells me, confirming my earlier guess that I'm still on the tour. I'm not out in a bunker in the desert. Things are looking up. “ We have a show soon, and I'd be kidding myself I thought we'd survive without you for long.” Hayden turns and gives me a look over her shoulder, reaching up to pull the clip from her hair. Perfectly straight brunette tendrils drip down her back and swing as she whirls around to face me fully. Her nipples are erect and she looks a little too excited for the given situation. “Even with Turner … ” She
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