Page 4 of Naughty Nelle

It doesn’t ring anything, including my balls. My attention is diverted by a stocky man bursting through the open door.

“Hey, my boy. You’re awake!” He strides up to me and pats me on my back.

I gaze up at him. Tanned, teeth perfect and pearly white. Hair bottle-brown and greased back. Expensive Italian twill suit and flashy gold jewelry. Forty. Maybe fifty? Yet another unfamiliar face.

“And who are you?”

He shoots Katrina a questioning look. His left eye twitches. “Is he fucking kidding?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

They hold each other’s gazes as if they’re silently communicating, and then the strange man casts his eyes back on me.

“I’m your manager. Scott Turner.”

I have a fiancée. And now I have a manager?

“What do you manage?”

“Jeez, Brand-man. Your career.”

“My career?” Reality to Brandon. Come in for fuck’s sake.

The woman named Katrina interjects. “He seriously doesn’t seem to remember a thing.”

My so-called manager furrows his dark brows. “He’s bullshitting us.”

Rage surges inside me. “I’m not bullshitting anyone. I don’t even know how I got here.”

With a smile, Katrina defends me. “Trust me, Scotty-Wotty, he’s not acting. He’s really lost his mind.”

Unconvinced, Scott twists his thin lips. “Does Kurt Kussler mean anything to you?”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s the character you play on TV. The number one rated show that’s made you Hollywood’s highest paid actor. And every woman’s wet dream.”

I’m an actor? A Hollywood heartthrob? All I know is right now I’m a nut job. “So, how did I get here?” My voice falters.

“You seriously don’t remember what happened?”

“Not a clue.”

Shifting, Katrina fiddles with her engagement ring. “Scott, I think it’d be better if he heard it from you.”

Scott’s expression darkens and then it relaxes. “You were struck by a car. It was a hit and run. You’re lucky I called it in. I saved your ass. You suffered a skull fracture, underwent surgery, and have been in a coma for two weeks. It’s been headline news. All over the Internet and TMZ. And don’t get me started on Twitter. You’ve got more followers than Justin Bieber.”

Justin Bieber? TMZ?Digesting his words, I stroke my jaw. A bristly beard scrapes my hand. I must look like a caveman.

Katrina cups my other hand, the one with all the IVs. “You had me so worried. I’ve been by your side praying you’d recover.” She plants a hot kiss on my cheek. It does nothing to arouse me. More worry washes over me as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“Darling, we’re going to have to get you cleaned up and into shape. You should be just fine by the time the wedding is televised.”

Impulsively, I yank my hand from hers. “What are you talking about?”

Her face lights up. “We’re getting married and the whole world is going to watch. On a special edition of my reality show, America’s It Girl. My ratings are going to go through the roof.”

A sinking feeling sets in. I don’t remember a goddamn thing. And you know what, maybe I don’t want to.

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