Addiction

by Roberta Blablanski

  “It doesn’t matter who I’ll know, I’m not doing this. I haven’t had a Friday night off in forever, and you want me to basically spend it at work? I have plans that I can’t cancel.” He did not, in fact, have any plans, but Sammy didn’t need to know that. He wanted a free Friday night to himself, that was all. He shouldn’t have to explain or justify that to Sammy.

  Sammy tried for his best puppy dog eyes and pleaded with Owen. “Puh-leeeeeaaaaase? I need Gaymer Date Nights to be successful! I have big plans in the works to make this an ongoing thing for the gay community here. We need something better than the few places rampant with drugs and alcohol to meet other gay men looking for romance.” Sammy had grabbed onto Owen’s arm and was practically yanking on it. “Teetotalers want to find love, too!”

  Owen wrenched his arm out of Sammy’s grip and rubbed the spot where he had held on too roughly. “No. I’m standing my ground. You’re not going to convince me.” He punctuated his last sentence with an emphatic shake of his head. Sammy’s insistence bothered Owen. He had never pressured Owen into anything before. Sammy was one of the most easygoing, push-over people he knew, except when it came to being the assistant manager of the hotel.

  He got that this speed dating thing was important to Sammy, but Sammy had connections and other friends he could pester. Why did he need Owen?

  It took the rest of Owen’s shift shooting down Sammy’s attempts at enticing Owen to sign up before Sammy eventually abandoned his mission. The promise of a month’s worth of free Friday nights wasn’t enough to get Owen to give in.

  Then today happened. The day of Gaymer Date Nights. Sammy was more hyper than usual, running around taking care of last-minute details. Owen avoided Sammy as much as he could and tasked himself with wiping down the reception desk with disinfectant wipes when he wasn’t assisting guests. He paid special attention to all the little nooks and crannies, cleaning everything in sight including pens and the keycard machine whenever he spotted Sammy in the vicinity.

  Owen had just clocked out and was on his way to his locker to retrieve his car keys and cell phone when Sammy cornered him.

  “You’re off for the night?” The smile on his face was strained.

  Owen fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yep, and you know that. We’ve discussed this many times. Also, you make the schedule.”

  Sammy wrung his hands and forced out a tense laugh. “Right, right. Heading anywhere special?”

  Owen leaned against the lockers and put his hands on his hips. “What do you want, Sammy?” He was so close to escaping!

  “I know you’ve said no, but this is really, really important. One of the speed dating participants has the flu and can’t make it. Without that one person, the night will be a disaster! This only works when I have the same number of table people as date hoppers. Please, I’m begging you; be a table person for me!”

  There was no fake begging this time. Waves of tension rushed off of Sammy, and Owen could feel his mounting panic.

  “Sammy, I-” The heartbroken look on Sammy’s face had Owen snapping his jaw shut and ending his objections before they began. Owen reminded himself that he and Sammy were friends, not only coworkers. Friends helped each other out when they were in a bind. Just like Sammy helped him out when he needed certain nights off.

  “Please, Owen,” Sammy implored with a voice void of the teasing from earlier and full of desperation.

  With a heavy sigh, Owen acquiesced. “Fine, fine. I’ll do this for you, but don’t expect me to be happy about it. I’ll basically be a body in a chair and nothing more. And don’t you dare think about putting me on the spot during this thing. I want to get out as soon as it’s over.”

  There was no heat in Owen’s words. Sammy’s tortured expression morphed into relief, and he pulled Owen into a fierce hug.

  “Thank you, sweetie! You’re going to have fun; I just know it! I am going to make this memorable and amazing for everyone – including you – and people will ask for more Gaymer Date Nights events! This is going to be fantastic!”

  Owen disentangled himself from Sammy’s octopus-like arms and turned around to spin the combination to his locker. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t ever forget that I did this for you. Mostly against my will, it should be noted. Now, get out there and do your thing.”

  When Owen agreed to fill in the speed dating participant vacancy, he never would have imagined meeting someone who would grab his attention and interest as Dex had. Nor would he have guessed that the two of them would leave the event before it was over to sneak away for coffee.

  Dex squeezed his hand and aimed a sexy smile at Owen. “Meet you there?”

  Dex beat Owen to the coffee shop and was sitting in a cozy round booth just big enough for two people. Two large, white mugs were on the table in front of Dex. Owen scooted into the booth next to Dex and motioned at the mugs with a silent question.

  “I ordered us hot chocolates. I hope you don’t mind, but I figured it was too late for the caffeine in coffee. Next best thing is chocolate, right?”

  Who could resist a man with chocolate? Not Owen.

  Owen took a tentative sip of the hot beverage and moaned in appreciation. “I haven’t actually had one of these from here. I’m not usually a coffee drinker, and I might have been in here twice since it opened several years ago.”

  “You don’t like coffee?” Dex asked incredulously. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can date anyone who doesn’t appreciate coffee in all its greatness.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

  Owen froze for a split second at the word date. Was this a date? He supposed it was. After all, they did meet at a speeding date event. One could say they’d matched with each other. He’d have to tell Sammy his first Gaymer Date Nights event reaped results, at least when it came to Owen and the man closing his eyes in ecstasy as he slipped his hot chocolate.

  Dex’s large hands enveloped the mug, making the mug appear delicate and small. Owen studied his hands and long fingers. They were tan and strong, with a light smattering of dark hair on the tops. His nails were trimmed, the cuticles neat. This man took care of his hands. Perhaps he was a surgeon. Or a massage therapist. Oh, the possibilities that ran through Owen’s head at the thought of Dex being a masseur.

  Dex caught Owen staring and put down his mug to capture Owen’s hand. He intertwined their fingers and looked at Owen expectantly. What had they been talking about again? Oh, coffee. Right.

  “I assure you; I have other amazing qualities that will sway you, and you’ll forget about my coffee aversion in no time.”

  “Lucky for you I’m in the mood to be swayed.”

  1

  OWEN

  WATCHING A HAPPY FAMILY enjoy a bright, sunny day at the beach had Owen ruminating the sad state of affairs of his life. This time next month, he should be happily married and heading to Spain on his honeymoon with Dex.

  Instead, he was unemployed, homeless, and pathetic. At least, that’s the way he felt.

  He pressed his feet down into the sand, squishing the grittiness between his toes. How did his life get this fucked up?

  The younger child let out a squeal as one of her dads twirled her in the air. The other child tossed a Frisbee to Dad Two. So much happiness around Owen, but none of it was for him. Why was it that other people seemed to find and keep joy so easily? Was Owen ever truly happy? He thought he was, with Dex.

  “You need to get help, Owen. I can no longer watch you destroy yourself and us.” Dex’s eyes were dull, lifeless. No longer did Owen see the love he knew Dex had once felt for him.

  “I can do this, I promise,” he pleaded with Dex. “Just give me another chance.”

  Dex clenched his jaw and shook his head sadly. “I can’t. I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

  That was the last time Owen spoke to Dex. The next day, Dex had packed up all his things and moved out. Owen’s phone calls went unanswered, his text messages ignored. Dex had completely cut Owen out of his life.


  The only thing that kept Owen alive was the small packet of pills he’d purchase from Leroy on the corner. But he had swallowed that last pill the evening before. Now he was out of cash and was forced to detox. His wandering had led him to this beach, hoping the sun would alleviate his chills.

  He was at the edge of a cliff and could fly or fall. To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t care less to make a choice because from where he was standing, there was nothing to look forward to on the other side.

  The Frisbee went rogue and headed straight for Owen. He reached out and caught it then began making his way toward the child and his father. The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he stopped in his tracks as Owen got closer. The father squeezed his son’s shoulder before leaving the child rooted to the spot to meet up with Owen.

  “Thanks, man.” The father held out his hand for the Frisbee.

  Owen’s gaze was locked on the boy, confused by the child’s fear. He was nonthreatening, right? Sure, he could use a haircut and hadn’t shaved in roughly two weeks, but he wasn’t a big guy. Not intimidating in the least.

  The father waved a hand in front of Owen’s face, breaking Owen’s stare. “Hey, man. Gonna hand back the Frisbee?” Owen could see the tension in the father’s face. Now Owen was making the other man uncomfortable.

  “Yeah, sorry.” He relinquished the plastic disc and slithered away before the family got spooked enough to call the cops.

  He returned to the boardwalk to retrieve his shoes and found the place where he left them bare. His only pair of shoes were gone.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered to himself just as a young woman pushing a stroller passed by. She gave him a nervous look. He formed his mouth in what he hoped was an apologetic smile. The woman hurried her steps, quickly putting distance between her and her baby and Owen.

  How much lower could he get? He’d probably step on a rusty nail and contract a gross disease. He couldn’t remember his last tetanus shot. He’d probably have to get his foot amputated. If he thought he had problems getting hired now, having only one foot would complicate that further. But hey, then he’d only need one shoe.

  Wow, he was a regular comedian. Perhaps he could busk on a corner, telling jokes instead of playing guitar. Then he could buy a pair of shoes to replace the ones some fucker walked off with.

  He looked off into the distance at the row of shops lining the street. There were the typical tourist surf shops on every corner. Owen made a quick decision and jogged across the street.

  The blacktop burned his bare feet, and he yelped when he stepped on what he hoped was a shell. He hopped onto the grassy median, letting the blades of grass soothe his achy soles. During the few minutes he spent rubbing his feet back and forth on the ground, he almost talked himself out of what he was about to do. Almost.

  Owen jetted across the remaining lane of road and headed inside Surf’s Up. The blast of cool air made him shiver, and he fought to keep his teeth from chattering. A pop song he and Dex used to sing along to together was playing over the speakers, almost knocking him to the floor with a wave of nausea filled with regret and despair.

  Tears trickled down his face, mixing with the cold sweat breaking out over his skin. He was thankful the teenager behind the counter hadn't glanced up from his cell phone when Owen walked in. Otherwise, Owen was certain he would have been kicked out of the store, or worse, had the cops called on him.

  Rows and rows of sunglasses, mugs, t-shirts, magnets, and other cheap souvenirs were one bright colorful blur after another. He had a one-track mind, so focused on his mission that he could have been a horse with blinders on. He used his grubby sleeves to wipe his eyes and forehead.

  He reached the back wall covered in pegs displaying flip flops of every color and style imaginable. He glanced down at his dirty feet and back up at the wall, scratching his chin through his beard.

  What I wouldn’t give for a warm shower and shave.

  The shower water at the YMCA was lukewarm on a good day, freezing cold every other day. Owen didn’t remember what a hot shower felt like. He couldn’t afford rent by himself and was evicted shortly after Dex moved out. He took to sleeping in his car and showering at the YMCA but missed too much time from work and was handed his pink slip. No business would hire someone without a permanent address.

  For the first time since he’d shaved his head three months ago, he was glad to not have the long, thick blond mane he sported for years. That was one of his worst days.

  Leroy held the knife to Owen’s cheek, his front pressed to Owen’s back, and his other arm across Owen’s chest to hold him in place.

  “I told you not to show your pretty boy face here again unless you had my money.” Leroy dug the point of the knife into the plump skin of Owen’s cheek and a small trickle of blood dripped slowly down his face.

  Owen was terrified to speak, afraid any movement would cause the knife to sink deeper into his skin.

  “What would your boyfriend think about you if you went crawling back to him with your face all cut up? Would he still love you with scars? You think you have anything to offer other than your looks? You’re a pathetic junkie.”

  A pathetic junkie that keeps you in business, Owen thought but dared not voice aloud.

  Leroy eased the pressure on his knife, and Owen took that moment to speak. “H-how m-much do I owe y-you?” he stuttered.

  “Seven hundred. And that’s just your debt. That won’t get you anymore of the goods.” Leroy’s breath in Owen’s ear was hot and smelled of rot. Owen desperately needed to get away from Leroy, lest he vomit or get stabbed. At that moment, he’d rather be stabbed.

  “Okay,” Owen managed, careful not to move more than necessary. “I’ll g-get your money. T-tonight. Just l-let me go, p-please.” Did begging work with a drug dealer? Owen didn’t know, but hoped luck was on his side.

  Owen felt the pressure from the knife ease up and the arm fall from around him.

  He took a deep, tentative breath. “There’s an ATM around the corner. I’ll go there and get your money and be right back.” He wouldn’t chance turning around to look Leroy in the eye.

  “We’ll go together.” Leroy linked his arm through Owen’s and tugged Owen in the direction of the ATM. Leroy felt Owen’s hesitation. “What?” he mocked. “Did you think I’d let you go on your own so you could run off?”

  That’s exactly what Owen thought. “N-no, of course not.”

  Leroy’s grip on Owen’s bicep tightened painfully. Owen winced and trudged along obediently. If not for the menacing look on Leroy's face, the two could have appeared to be a couple out on a stroll.

  With trembling hands, it took Owen three tries to insert his debit card into the ATM. When his balance appeared on the screen, he cursed under his breath. He had $47.62 in his account. How was he going to pay Leroy with barely $50?

  There was the other account but...no, he couldn’t.

  Leroy jabbed Owen’s side with his elbow. “What’s taking so long? Get the money and let’s go.”

  Owen took a deep breath and sent a silent apology to Dex. Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do.

  He inserted a different bank card into the ATM, entered his PIN, and quickly typed in the withdrawal amount. The machine whirred and hummed, spitting out a stack of twenty-dollar bills. Owen’s eyes locked in on the money, more than he had ever seen at once.

  Leroy snatched the bills from the machine and began counting. When he reached seven hundred, he shoved the wad of cash into the inside pocket of his jacket and playfully punched Owen hard on his shoulder. “Now we’re all squared up.”

  “C-can I get a few more pills?” Owen asked, rubbing his arm where Leroy’s fist had landed.

  “C-can I g-get m-m-more p-pills?” Leroy’s tone was icy. “I’ll give you two more, but it’ll cost you twice as much.”

  Panic seized Owen’s chest. “But I gave you all my money! Just one pill. One more, that’s all!”

  Leroy grabbed a handful of Owen
’s hair, pulling hard enough to bring tears to Owen’s eyes. Owen saw the knife flash in the street light and tensed, ready to feel the burning pain of the blade entering his body. Instead, the pull on his scalp abruptly ceased. Opening eyes he hadn’t realized he’d squeezed shut, Owen saw Leroy’s fist full of blond locks that were once attached to his head.

  Owen tentatively reached up to pat the side of his head and let out a choke sob when his hand met the blunt, chopped ends. “You cut my hair,” he choked incredulously.

  “Think of it as nontraditional payment for the one pill I’m giving you tonight.” Leroy tossed the locks of hair at Owen’s feet and stepped on them, mashing them into the muddy sidewalk. “Don’t fuck with my money again, pretty boy.” He grabbed Owen’s hand and placed a single white pill in the center of his palm. “Next time, I’ll cut more than just your hair.”

  Leroy left Owen staring numbly at his retreating back. When he managed the wherewithal, he dry swallowed the pill in his hand and began walking toward the apartment he shared with Dex.

  Dex was in the kitchen when Owen entered their apartment, humming a tune only Dex could hear. It was a familiar sound, one that Owen came to associate with Dex trying out a new recipe. The smell of something baking in the oven hit his nose; his sweet Dex was baking a cake.

  Owen rushed to the bathroom after calling out a harried hello, not wanting Dex to see his current state. His face burned with the humiliation of having part of his hair barbarically chopped off. With the knowledge that he had stooped low enough to steal money from their account, the bloody cut on his cheek wasn’t the worse thing Dex would see on his face.