Read Real Ugly for Free Online

me as he fishes out a joint and holds his hand out for a light. “Whatever it was I was after, is long gone now.” He breathes deep and sighs, slinging his arms up along the back of the sofa, resting his grungy boots up on the table. If Milo saw this, he'd have a friggin' fit. Don't know why he cares so much anyhow; it's my fucking bus. “So, what's this mystery chick's name?” Ronnie lets his shadowed lids flutter closed, and a smile teases the edges of his lips. “And why the hell are you so interested in her? Last time you were this into a woman, you were trying to get the manager of Heartstrings Records to book us.” A harsh laugh escapes my throat as I lean back against the door frame and pull a drag on my cig. “You must be crap in bed because as soon as she banged you, she was up and running like her life depended on it.” Ronnie chuckles and opens his brown eyes. His pupils are so big they look almost black and kind of creepy, surrounded by shots of red veins that seem to pulse in the changing light. Normally, I'd blame that on the drugs, but this time, I think it has more to do with his past than anything else. Poor bastard.
    “Hey, I showed her a good time that night. It was her fucking mistake to leave her phone on the nightstand. Her husband called, and I answered.” I shrug and brush off the past with a wave of my hand. I don't like to live in the what's been; I'd rather live in the now. The what's been wasn't all that great to me, and the now's been like some kind of fucked up fairytale. I sing; I sell records; I own the fucking world. The one thing I always wanted, I've got: respect.
    Except from that girl.
    Even thinking of her now is getting my blood hot and my fingers tight. I squeeze my cigarette hard and try not to let her get to me. It's hard though; I can still feel the sting of her palm against my cheek, see the disdain in her eyes. I grind the cherry of my cig into a glass ashtray and cross my arms over my chest.
    “Naomi Knox,” I say, and I watch as Ronnie's face registers the name. His mouth twitches and he scratches at the snake tattoos that crawl out of his shirt and around his neck.
    “Huh.” Just that one word. Now I'm even more intrigued. Ronnie's staring out the window with a wistful expression, letting his joint dangle from his lips while he thinks. His Terre Haute tee is stained with sweat, and I know it's just a matter of time before Milo bursts in here and starts shouting about appearances and image and all that crap. Me, I've already showered and done my hair, applied a slash eyeliner around my eyes, and slipped into a black tee with a bleeding heart on the front. I've got on a new pair of jeans and a custom pair of hi-tops in solid black with our band logo on the side. Ronnie might not have a problem going onstage looking like he just stepped out of his double wide, but I do. I already lived a major part of my life doing just that. I've got money now, and fame, and respect, and I want to look the part. “Yeah, I know a little about Naomi Knox.”
    “A little?” I ask, leaning forward a bit. I feel like a kid sitting around a fucking campfire, waiting for a ghost story or some shit. I get pissed off all over again and lean back with a scowl. Ronnie smirks at me.
    “Damn, Turner. You really are all wrapped up in this, huh? Something happen that I should know about it?”
    “Do you know something or not?” I snap at him, feeling these little lines of fire open up in my veins. My blood gets hot, and I have to squeeze my fists tight to keep from getting angry again. The more I think about it, the more pissed off I get, and the last thing I need to be doing right now is starting some kind of shit with another band.
    “Cool your jets, Turner. I said I know a little.” He pauses and smokes for a minute before continuing. “I'm guessing you already know the basics, so I'll skip right to the good stuff.” Ronnie smiles. “Naomi Knox is your typical disgruntled foster kid.