Read Get Bent for Free Online

the night before. I don't even think he's bothered to change his clothes.
    “But not her,” he continues, sniffling hard and taking a deep breath. “They found Naomi's blood on the bus, but it doesn't match the body. The girl in the morgue, it isn't her.”
    “Marta Yadley,” I say and he startles, glancing up at me with a wary expression. He's got stubble all over his jaw, and the skin on his cheeks looks sallow. The Little Drummer Boy is not faring well in all this shit. Guess I'm made of tougher stuff. I try to thank my momma in the back of my mind, praise her for beating the shit out of me all those years. It was enough to prepare me for this. But then, fuck the bitch. I'm not thanking her metaphorically or otherwise.
    “How do you know that?” I resist the urge to go for the joint in my pocket and glance around. There are bags everywhere, guitar cases, empty beer bottles. Looks like shacking up together hasn't been kind to either band.
    “Good gumshoe work,” I say which is sort of a smart ass thing to do. Looking at Dax's bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, I decide to add, “I went through all the missing roadies and found a girl that matched Naomi's description.” I shrug, but inside, I'm shaking, too.
    It isn't her. It isn't her. It isn't her.
    The mantra plays through my head on repeat and brings the first real smile to my face that I've had in days.
    “But they don't know where she is?” I figure that Dax wouldn't be bawling his eyes out if they did, but it never hurts to ask.
    “The police don't know shit,” he tells me which isn't surprising. I don't expect them to help out much. Dax sighs deeply and lowers his chin to his chest. “Or if they do, they haven't told us. That's all I know. They found her blood. A lot of it they said. There's a pretty good chance she's dead based on the amount.” I don't respond to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Dax is lost in his own world, mourning the loss of his love. I'm determined to find mine.
    “That's why I came here to talk to you,” I tell him, looking up at the ceiling. This bus isn't nearly as nice as ours. The appliances are black, not silver, and the floor is covered in linoleum, not hardwood. Maybe if Rook Geary spent a little more time on his music and a little less fucking groupies, he'd have a better rig. “But I guess the point's moot now.”
    “Don't dig into this, Turner,” Dax tells me, voice so low it's almost a whisper, lost in the patter of rain on the metal roof. “Let it go. Let the experts handle it.” I smile again, not a pretty one, but a bitter one. If Dax had lived the life I had, he'd know that the police don't always get it right.
    “See you onstage,” I say, and then I'm descending the steps and sprinting through the rain. When I hit the back door to the venue, the bouncer nearly tears my fucking head off and then apologizes profusely when he sees my face. That's when I know that something is changing inside of me, mutating, shifting, becoming something different. I would've fired that man before, beat the ever living crap out of him. Now though, I'm having a hard time justifying why. I've got a purpose now, and it feels damn good. Everything I do between now and the moment my lips meet Naomi's again, is focused wholly on that task. Nothing else matters.
    Inside, I search around until I find the girl with the dual colored hair. I have no friggin' clue what her name is, but the thing I'm looking for, if it's here, she'll have it. She's the only chick I ever saw Naomi hang around with.
    “Hey,” I say, and she spins around to face me, black and white polka dot dress swirling around her hips. She's pretty in an old school sort of a way. Had somebody introduced us a few weeks back, I might've fucked her. Not anymore. “You're Naomi's friend, right?” The girl looks down at my outstretched hand and then back up at me.
    “Blair Ashton,” she says and then shakes it. “What can I help you with, Turner