Read Online Red Hot Blues by Rachel Dunning - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Dunning
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tell
you about here, because the dude did just that—he screwed off.
Maybe he saw the devil in my eyes, or the truth of what I was
saying. So he fucked off, quick, and left me with his hat.
I felt bad, so I left the hat on a garbage
can before I rode off. Maybe he’d get it back later.
Do I regret my temper getting the better of
me?
Do I regret keeping him away from this Ginger
girl?
Not a chance. I know his type—the Jed and
Bobby type. Assholes.
I don’t see anything romantic happening with
me and her. It would hurt her too much to be with an asshole like
me. I’m a loose cannon. Volatile. I’m not a relationship guy, and
she doesn’t look like a one-night girl.
But I would like to talk to her. You can tell
the depth of someone’s soul by the way they make music. Aaron has
one of the deepest souls I’ve ever seen.
Sure, there was some attraction there for
her. I just need to keep my bad boy in check. I can’t go for her. I
can’t.
I won’t !
But those eyes—I can’t stop thinking about
them. And that smile—I can’t stop dreaming about it. And that
perfumed scent—I can’t stop wondering about it. And that voice
that cleared my mind...
And those lips—I can’t stop fantasizing about
them.
Or imagining what they taste like...
~ GIN ~
-24-
I was flustered, completely flustered. Layna
and I stayed out talking after the bar closed at two a.m. and she
wouldn’t stop asking me about details. I told her he eye-fucked me
(or so I thought) and she rolled her eyes in a way that said, Then what the F are you still doing here!?
She sat on my right, at the end of one of the
tiny round tables outside the Blues Bar, just under the glass case
with posters for the acts every day of the week.
She lit up a smoke, made me jealous by
crossing her long and sexy legs. She was wearing red cowboy boots,
and pretty much nothing else. She exhaled. “Fuck, that’s hot ,” she said.
Whatever. I didn’t wanna get into it. I
didn’t want to think about him. I didn’t want to hope or consider
that something was there when it wasn’t. I was just dreaming.
Dreaming is cool. Thinking the dream is reality is definitely not cool.
Because it hurts bad when you realize it
isn’t.
“Next Tuesday?” she asked.
I looked at her, panic roiling in my mind. I
nodded.
“Is that like...a date ?” She took
another drag of her smoke, kicked her leg up and down so that the
boot looked like a red hyperactive cat on the edge of her foot.
“No! It’s not a date!”
“So what is it?”
I shrugged, and felt the dress scrape against
my breasts. My large breasts. My “generous” breasts. Oh, god, I
really couldn’t let this go to my head. It would hurt. It would so hurt if I let it go to my head...
I felt a sheen of nervous sweat break out on
my skin. The sweat that had been on it before had been from the
heat, this was from anxiety.
And loneliness. Bone-gnawing loneliness.
“I’d rather not talk about it, Lay.”
She stared at me. My eyes were to the ground
but I could still see her. Her smoke stopped an inch from her lips.
She chewed her gum loudly. Then she said, “You know you’re really
sexy, don’t you?”
I shook my head. She shouldn’t go there. I
was gonna start crying if she went there.
“I’m not kidding, Gin. You’re really sexy.
You’re the only one who doesn’t know it.”
I felt the tears hemorrhage behind my eyes,
felt my glands swell up and ache under my jaw. I couldn’t speak. I
hated when she told me this. She tells me it often. And I hate it.
Because it’s not true. But I want it to be true. I so want
it to be true.
But it’s not.
It’s not.
And that hurts. That hurts a lot. Because I
can’t change it.
“Come here,” she said.
I didn’t.
She stood up, extended her arms out to me,
and that sent the first pricks of tears to my eyes. I saw one tear
drop onto my dress. She grabbed me by the shoulders, lifted me and
held me. And I shattered in her arms. I cried, and cried,
you about here, because the dude did just that—he screwed off.
Maybe he saw the devil in my eyes, or the truth of what I was
saying. So he fucked off, quick, and left me with his hat.
I felt bad, so I left the hat on a garbage
can before I rode off. Maybe he’d get it back later.
Do I regret my temper getting the better of
me?
Do I regret keeping him away from this Ginger
girl?
Not a chance. I know his type—the Jed and
Bobby type. Assholes.
I don’t see anything romantic happening with
me and her. It would hurt her too much to be with an asshole like
me. I’m a loose cannon. Volatile. I’m not a relationship guy, and
she doesn’t look like a one-night girl.
But I would like to talk to her. You can tell
the depth of someone’s soul by the way they make music. Aaron has
one of the deepest souls I’ve ever seen.
Sure, there was some attraction there for
her. I just need to keep my bad boy in check. I can’t go for her. I
can’t.
I won’t !
But those eyes—I can’t stop thinking about
them. And that smile—I can’t stop dreaming about it. And that
perfumed scent—I can’t stop wondering about it. And that voice
that cleared my mind...
And those lips—I can’t stop fantasizing about
them.
Or imagining what they taste like...
~ GIN ~
-24-
I was flustered, completely flustered. Layna
and I stayed out talking after the bar closed at two a.m. and she
wouldn’t stop asking me about details. I told her he eye-fucked me
(or so I thought) and she rolled her eyes in a way that said, Then what the F are you still doing here!?
She sat on my right, at the end of one of the
tiny round tables outside the Blues Bar, just under the glass case
with posters for the acts every day of the week.
She lit up a smoke, made me jealous by
crossing her long and sexy legs. She was wearing red cowboy boots,
and pretty much nothing else. She exhaled. “Fuck, that’s hot ,” she said.
Whatever. I didn’t wanna get into it. I
didn’t want to think about him. I didn’t want to hope or consider
that something was there when it wasn’t. I was just dreaming.
Dreaming is cool. Thinking the dream is reality is definitely not cool.
Because it hurts bad when you realize it
isn’t.
“Next Tuesday?” she asked.
I looked at her, panic roiling in my mind. I
nodded.
“Is that like...a date ?” She took
another drag of her smoke, kicked her leg up and down so that the
boot looked like a red hyperactive cat on the edge of her foot.
“No! It’s not a date!”
“So what is it?”
I shrugged, and felt the dress scrape against
my breasts. My large breasts. My “generous” breasts. Oh, god, I
really couldn’t let this go to my head. It would hurt. It would so hurt if I let it go to my head...
I felt a sheen of nervous sweat break out on
my skin. The sweat that had been on it before had been from the
heat, this was from anxiety.
And loneliness. Bone-gnawing loneliness.
“I’d rather not talk about it, Lay.”
She stared at me. My eyes were to the ground
but I could still see her. Her smoke stopped an inch from her lips.
She chewed her gum loudly. Then she said, “You know you’re really
sexy, don’t you?”
I shook my head. She shouldn’t go there. I
was gonna start crying if she went there.
“I’m not kidding, Gin. You’re really sexy.
You’re the only one who doesn’t know it.”
I felt the tears hemorrhage behind my eyes,
felt my glands swell up and ache under my jaw. I couldn’t speak. I
hated when she told me this. She tells me it often. And I hate it.
Because it’s not true. But I want it to be true. I so want
it to be true.
But it’s not.
It’s not.
And that hurts. That hurts a lot. Because I
can’t change it.
“Come here,” she said.
I didn’t.
She stood up, extended her arms out to me,
and that sent the first pricks of tears to my eyes. I saw one tear
drop onto my dress. She grabbed me by the shoulders, lifted me and
held me. And I shattered in her arms. I cried, and cried,
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