Confessions of a Bad Boy by J. D. Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

a little time off, is all. Maybe evaluate where your life is at.”
    I smile and look up at Nate.
    “You’ve been talking to Kyle, right? You sound just like him.”
    Nate looks forward through the windshield, avoiding my eyes. “Is he wrong?”
    “Probably not. But it’s a little rich for my brother to be lecturing me about overworking. I don’t think he’s slept since last October. Besides, even though it drives me crazy sometimes, I love what I do.” It’s only half a lie – I do love what I do, I just don’t love the show where I’m doing it. If only I’d gotten that movie job.
    Nate shrugs, finally turning the key in the ignition and driving us out into the L.A. traffic. I let my eyes lose focus as Nate revs the car, the store fronts and parking lots flying by in a blur. Soon I’ll be back at work, grinding my hopes and dreams into dust as I try to squeeze out a living long enough to get that big break that only seems to get further away.
    “You wanna grab something to eat?” Nate asks. “It’s past lunch. And it sounds like you could use an Oreo milkshake.”
    I grin, pleased for some reason that Nate still remembers my favorite treat. “Sure.”
    In a few minutes we’re at a drive-thru, picking up our orders. Nate finds a spot, kills the engine, and we tear open the paper bags with child-like glee.
    “So how’s the glamorously sleazy world of ego-management these day?” I ask, after a couple of bites.
    “Same as always,” Nate says, sipping loudly from his milkshake. “The egos get bigger, and then the money does, too. Your burger’s leaking.”
    I look down to see the extra mayo I ordered seeping out of the bottom of the bun, some of it already on my jeans.
    “Shit! Gimme more napkins!”
    Nate quickly fishes around in the bags while I slam open his glove compartment. Eventually he hands them to me and I manage to stop the flow before spattering my jeans so much they look like a nineties fashion statement.
    “Um…Nate?” I say slowly.
    “Mm?” he mumbles, his mouth full.
    “I think there’s a pair of women’s lingerie in your glovebox.”
    Nate swallows, smiles, and leans over. He picks them out and throws them in the paper bag with the dirty napkins. I raise an eyebrow, and look back at the glovebox.
    “What the fuck? Are you selling condoms as a side-business? Why are there so many in here?”
    “Because I’m too young to be paying multiple child support.”
    I laugh like it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in awhile, which it is, but when I recover I just stare at him, open-mouthed, while he takes another gigantic bite of his quarter-pounder.
    “Are you really getting that much action?” I ask, equal parts awed and repulsed.
    Nate thinks as he chews, swallows slowly, and carries on thinking for a few more seconds.
    “I get enough.”
    “Wow. And you’re still nowhere near getting serious with anyone?” I’m suddenly more fascinated than disgusted. I can’t imagine playing the field forever like Nate does, but there’s something undeniably attractive about the idea of never having a broken heart again.
    “I’m not getting thrown into jail for any of them soon, no.”
    I punch him playfully.
    “That’s awful.”
    “Why is that awful?”
    “It just is. I thought you’d grown out of all that.”
    Nate looks at me with a furrowed brow, as if I just told him the most offensive joke he’s ever heard.
    “‘Grown out of it’? What do you mean?”
    “That whole ‘alpha-male, swinging-dick’ thing. Seducing all of those girls. ‘One-night stands.’” My voice trails off as I force myself to not-remember the one we had a few years ago. Never happened, Jessie . “Don’t you think it’s kind of…I dunno…asshole-ish?”
    “No,” Nate says, and I can see how much difficulty he has in even understanding me. “Asshole-ish is your ex-boyfriend making you think you were his only girl when he was seeing someone else. Asshole-ish is telling a girl you love her