I Can’t With Desi Pt. 6


Thursday morning. 7am. I’m in the car, waiting on Nova. I’ll see her to the first show today. After that she’s on her own. Suddenly, the red Ferrari roars up next to the towncar and blocks a lane of traffic in front of the hotel. Desi leaps out from the driver’s seat. I let my window down, very cool and casual. “Why didn’t you tell me??” he shouts. “Why didn’t you tell me that Nova is a man!!” I never stop scrolling through the messages on my phone. “What difference does it make to you?” I ask. But he’s been duped, he’s been played, and somehow it’s my fault. He reaches inside the window and slaps at my hands, knocking my phone away. “I don’t like getting a handful of cock when I reach between a woman’s legs! Okay??” 

It’s not the first time this crazy Spaniard has snapped on me. And of course he’ll apologize. He always does. But he should have never made moves on Nova. The son-of-a-bitch hurt my feelings. And this time only jewelry can make it better.

Winona is wearing Carolina Herrera

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