Read Online Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots) by C.M. Stunich - Free Book Online
Authors: C.M. Stunich
Tags: Romance
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She nibbles at 'em for a moment and then nods her head.
“I knew something was different about you,” she says, standing up and walking towards me with this sway that's just about Goddamn mesmerizing. Her hand comes up and brushes against the skin on my face. My head spins and then I'm stumbling back, struggling not to reach out and grab her, smash her breasts against my chest and kiss her fucking face off.
“How'd you get in here?” I ask again. I might be a soggy ass loser, but I pay attention to things. It's how I know everything there is to know about this tour. Except, apparently, Lola's face. Maybe it was because she was always wearing those butt ass ugly sunglasses.
Lola's face shivers for a second, and she spins away, pretending to be interested in the animal cutouts that litter the floor. I know that face. She's hiding something, something that's eating her up from the inside out. I recognize the slow fade of the spirit. It's right there in the set of her cheeks and the tight skin across her forehead.
She pouts her lips, flicking her tongue across the red-purple lipstick she's wearing. I watch as she circles the paper animals and comes back around, taking a peek inside the bathroom. When she sees the syringe on the floor, she raises her rounded brows.
“Well, shit on a songbird, didn't realize I was interrupting some quality time with the needle. I honestly thought you were dropping a deuce. Would've been more dignified that way, you know?” I raise an eyebrow as she bends down and picks it up, holding it delicately on her outstretched palm like it's a butterfly or some shit. “Should I come back later then?”
“How did you get in my room?” I ask her again, thinking she's going to hand the needle over to me. Instead, she spins it around, presses the plunger to release the air and sticks it into her arm, just like that. She pulls it back up to make sure she's got a hit. “You're freaking me out a little,” I admit as she lets her eyelids flutter closed for a moment. Lola's hot as I've ever seen, but I'm in a state right now. I've got a new kid to take care of, one with a dead mother. Paranoia doesn't even begin to describe the feelings I'm having right now.
“Your friend, the one with the bright blue pants let me in.” Lola pauses and wets her lips. She looks up at my face like she expects me to stop her. I'm far beyond that point in my life where I can tell anyone what to do or help them out in any way. If she wants the hit, it's hers. “Didn't know you'd be getting fried.” I raise an eyebrow.
“I'm hardly high, doll face,” I tell her, wondering if Jesse's doing alright with Lydia. Probably better than I'd do anyway. Lola gives me a look that says she doesn't believe me. Don't blame 'er. This is the most sober I've been in ten friggin' years. I watch hungrily as she pushes the plunger down and try to convince myself that I don't want it. That I don't need it. I can feel sweat pooling in my armpits and dripping down my forehead. Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. And fuck again. Just, fuck.
“Then what were you doin' in there? Playing with your salami?”
“You're the most vulgar woman I've ever met, and strangely, I'm intrigued.” I get out a cigarette and watch Lola's ass as she moves into the bathroom, puts the cap back on the syringe and tosses it in the trash. As an afterthought, she grabs the rubbing alcohol off the floor and cleans her arm. I should be calling my other baby mamas. Or showering. Or going downstairs to find Lydia. Instead, I'm standing here wondering if I can get laid. How fucked up is that? I barely deserve a bullet to the back of the head.
Lola pauses and leans against the sink, bending forward and letting her hair fall around her face.
“I just came up to check on you and your kid.” She looks up and smiles. “She's cute by the way. Bloody fucking precious. Did everything go alright last night?” I pause and sigh, closing my eyes for a moment to gather
“I knew something was different about you,” she says, standing up and walking towards me with this sway that's just about Goddamn mesmerizing. Her hand comes up and brushes against the skin on my face. My head spins and then I'm stumbling back, struggling not to reach out and grab her, smash her breasts against my chest and kiss her fucking face off.
“How'd you get in here?” I ask again. I might be a soggy ass loser, but I pay attention to things. It's how I know everything there is to know about this tour. Except, apparently, Lola's face. Maybe it was because she was always wearing those butt ass ugly sunglasses.
Lola's face shivers for a second, and she spins away, pretending to be interested in the animal cutouts that litter the floor. I know that face. She's hiding something, something that's eating her up from the inside out. I recognize the slow fade of the spirit. It's right there in the set of her cheeks and the tight skin across her forehead.
She pouts her lips, flicking her tongue across the red-purple lipstick she's wearing. I watch as she circles the paper animals and comes back around, taking a peek inside the bathroom. When she sees the syringe on the floor, she raises her rounded brows.
“Well, shit on a songbird, didn't realize I was interrupting some quality time with the needle. I honestly thought you were dropping a deuce. Would've been more dignified that way, you know?” I raise an eyebrow as she bends down and picks it up, holding it delicately on her outstretched palm like it's a butterfly or some shit. “Should I come back later then?”
“How did you get in my room?” I ask her again, thinking she's going to hand the needle over to me. Instead, she spins it around, presses the plunger to release the air and sticks it into her arm, just like that. She pulls it back up to make sure she's got a hit. “You're freaking me out a little,” I admit as she lets her eyelids flutter closed for a moment. Lola's hot as I've ever seen, but I'm in a state right now. I've got a new kid to take care of, one with a dead mother. Paranoia doesn't even begin to describe the feelings I'm having right now.
“Your friend, the one with the bright blue pants let me in.” Lola pauses and wets her lips. She looks up at my face like she expects me to stop her. I'm far beyond that point in my life where I can tell anyone what to do or help them out in any way. If she wants the hit, it's hers. “Didn't know you'd be getting fried.” I raise an eyebrow.
“I'm hardly high, doll face,” I tell her, wondering if Jesse's doing alright with Lydia. Probably better than I'd do anyway. Lola gives me a look that says she doesn't believe me. Don't blame 'er. This is the most sober I've been in ten friggin' years. I watch hungrily as she pushes the plunger down and try to convince myself that I don't want it. That I don't need it. I can feel sweat pooling in my armpits and dripping down my forehead. Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. And fuck again. Just, fuck.
“Then what were you doin' in there? Playing with your salami?”
“You're the most vulgar woman I've ever met, and strangely, I'm intrigued.” I get out a cigarette and watch Lola's ass as she moves into the bathroom, puts the cap back on the syringe and tosses it in the trash. As an afterthought, she grabs the rubbing alcohol off the floor and cleans her arm. I should be calling my other baby mamas. Or showering. Or going downstairs to find Lydia. Instead, I'm standing here wondering if I can get laid. How fucked up is that? I barely deserve a bullet to the back of the head.
Lola pauses and leans against the sink, bending forward and letting her hair fall around her face.
“I just came up to check on you and your kid.” She looks up and smiles. “She's cute by the way. Bloody fucking precious. Did everything go alright last night?” I pause and sigh, closing my eyes for a moment to gather
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