Page 4 of Composed at Randy's
I suppose that happens to people who accidentally glue their own balls to the floor. Yes, that really happened to me. No, I don't want to talk about it.
Ball gluing aside, I think I'm a pretty great person. My fans tell me this constantly.
I humor Travis because I'm a nice guy and ignore his comment. “You should really get one of these sandwiches. They’re fucking amazing.”
I'd seen the way he'd been eyeing Miss Kitty. He wants one, I just know it. But Travis isn't as comfortable with his masculinity as I am, so he’s going to need some time before he takes the plunge.
“No way. If you think I'm eating that shit, you're insane.” Travis's eyes linger on the wrapper I threw at him. “I bet it tastes like perfume anyway.”
“Whatever, man. Have fun starving.” You can stick a horse in water, but you can't, umm, you can't… dammit. I don't know how that saying goes, okay? I just know that I can't make Travis's stupid ass eat something if he doesn't want to.
Travis swears, then flings open the door of our limo and storms across the street. Then he flips me off and stomps inside Randy’s diner like a cute little brat. Travis likes to think he's this macho guy when really, he's just a bottom who needs a spanking.
It ain't gonna be me. That's not my style at all.
What is my style, you ask? I'm still working on it. All I know is that Travis doesn’t do it for me.
I laugh as I watch Travis’s little performance through the open door of the limo. Yes, he left the door wide open. Dude really needs that spanking, right?
I immediately forget all about Travis because my attention jumps and lands on a little guy stumbling towards Randy’s. He really doesn't look good.
I consider going over to him to ask if he needs help. Maybe I can call someone he knows to come and get him. Like, he really looks like he needs help.
Some people call me pushy. I call me helpful. There are a ton of people out there who need help but don't ask for it. That's where I come in.
The little guy stops stumbling and starts falling onto his face. That's when I stop considering helping him and realize I'm already running across the street. That's probably the only reason why I manage to catch him before he plants his face into a puddle. That would have been a shitty way to wake up. Nobody wants a face full of mysterious city street water.
He's distressingly light, and it takes zero effort to scoop him into my arms. I juggle him a little so I can tap his face to try and wake him up.
His eyes flutter open for a second, giving me a chance to see a set of pretty brown eyes, but they close again and he goes completely limp, causing a sweep of blond hair to cover his face.
When I tap his face again, there’s no reaction. Not even a flinch.
Poor little guy. Something bad must have happened to him to make him drop like that. I take in the rest of his body to see if he's injured and notice his ragged, wrinkled clothes and lack of shoes. His clothes are streaked with something black and I realize his face is too. I think it's dirt or something.
You know what? I think he might be homeless. He looks half-starved, so I bet he passed out from lack of food.
I should take him to a doctor.
Wait.
You're not supposed to take random strangers to the hospital. I remember what it was like being poor before my band became insanely famous. You only go to the doctor if it's the end of the world.
What if this guy has no money?
A brilliant idea occurs to me. The band has our own private doctor, so I can take this little guy to her. I'm so fucking smart it shocks me sometimes.
I'm already carrying him to the limo because it's such an excellent idea that I know I don't need to stop and think about it. Travis can find his own way back to the hotel.
Chapter 3
Wren
Iwake up confused and dizzy. What the hell happened?
The ceiling I'm staring at is completely unfamiliar and the room smells weird and sterile. I can hear hushed voices outside the room, and they don't sound remotely familiar.
Shit. I think I'm in a hospital.
