Addiction

by Roberta Blablanski

  Just then, Dex extended his arm between Owen and Leon. "I'm Dex, Owen's fiancé."

  Leon took Dex's hand daintily and gave him an appraising look. "My, my. Sammy brings me two handsome men? Must be my lucky day." He slinked away toward a wall of doors, motioning to one that stood open. Inside, Owen could make out several hangers of bright material.

  Before following, Owen kissed Dex's cheek again and whispered, "Stand down, sexy. I only have eyes for you." He linked his fingers with Dex's and led him to the fitting room where Leon was waiting.

  Owen tried on five costumes in different styles and cuts before settling on an eighties-style prom dress in a bright shade of turquoise. It had a large bow at the waist, a ruffled skirt, and a huge flower at each shoulder. Leon and Sammy oohed and aahed at the fit, while Dex had a goofy smile on his face.

  Owen had to stand his ground about shaving his legs. Leon selected a pair of opaque tights with extra room in the crotch to camouflage the hair on his legs. It wasn’t that he minded having smooth, hairless legs, it was the thought of the constant itchiness of the hair growing back that made him refuse to compromise.

  Thirty minutes later, they left with his rental dress in a garment bag and another shopping bag full of accessories and a pair of scary-looking stilettos. Owen was in awe at the amount of supplies required in the creation of a drag performer.

  That day, they chose the song for his performance – ”Come On Eileen” by Dexy’s Midnight Runner – and had Sammy’s sister choreograph a routine for what she called “a dance so simple my two-year-old could do it.”

  Owen had his doubts. “Charlotte, I’m not coordinated enough to pull off some of these moves.”

  “If Sammy says you can do it, I believe you can, too.” She rearranged his limbs into the proper configuration for her vision. “You’re going to keep your arms stretched above your head like this for three more beats.”

  Owen’s brow furrowed in concentration. Why was dancing to a routine so hard? “Have you met your brother? He tends to overlook important details, like dancing capability, when he wants something.”

  “Helllloooo, I can hear you, Owen!” Sammy called from his perch at the kitchen bar, where he was sipping wine and generally making himself at home as he was wont to do. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not sitting right here.”

  Charlotte and Owen laughed and continued dancing to the song. Owen practiced for weeks in tennis shoes, perfecting the twists and turns and jumps and skips until he had Charlotte’s choreography down with no problem. Dex liked to interrupt him at random moments by coming up behind him and grinding against his backside. Those moments usually resulted in a different kind of dance between the sheets. Despite the sexy distraction named Dex and his lack of faith in his dancing abilities, Owen felt as ready as he’d ever be.

  Before he knew it, it was the night of the drag competition. Although the drag show didn’t start until ten o’clock at night, Sammy was at their apartment around noon the day of the show with additional bags of supplies. Owen looked on in confusion as Sammy laid everything out on the coffee table, not sure what half of those things were supposed to do.

  “Sticking with the eighties theme, I envision big hair.” Sammy ran his hands over Owen’s curls. “Tease, tease, tease is the name of the game here, folks.”

  “My hair is big enough!” Owen protested. He spent a good amount of money on products to tame his hair, not make it more unruly.

  “Sweetie, trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Sammy selected a long wand with a cord from his collection, and Owen could swear he saw something similar in a sex toy shop.

  “Men have died hearing those last words,” Owen deadpanned. Dex chortled and Sammy stuck his tongue out at him.

  Sammy softly whacked him over the head with his sex toy slash torture device, and Owen let him have his way with his hair. Next came the makeup – turquoise eyeshadow to match the dress, shimmery blush, and bright pink lipstick completed his look.

  He looked...surprisingly good. His smile in the mirror matched Dex’s, who was standing behind him in their bathroom. “Sammy did a great job.”

  “Of course, I did!” Sammy shouted from the living room.

  Dex laughed and shook his head. “You look amazing. I’ll be honest, I didn’t know how I would feel about seeing you all made up, but it works for you.” His eyes were dark, and Owen watched as he licked his lips.

  “Yeah? How much do you like it?” Owen lifted his head to meet Dex’s mouth. Instead of responding, Dex nibbled on Owen’s bottom lip. Owen’s backside hit the sink counter and his hips sought out Dex’s.

  “If you mess up Owen’s makeup, I will shave your head, Dexter! Don’t test me!” Sammy’s words snapped the electrified connection, breaking Owen and Dex apart.

  Before leaving the bathroom, Dex growled in Owen’s ear, “We leave as soon as possible after you perform. I have plans for you tonight.”

  Owen groaned. “How about we skip the whole thing and get these plans of yours underway?”

  “Get your asses in here now! Am I going to have to keep you two separated?” Sammy stopped them in the hallway between the bathroom and the living room. “You!” He pointed at Dex. “You smeared his lipstick!” He grabbed Owen’s arm and directed him to the sofa. He reapplied the lip color and tossed a tissue at Dex. “Wipe your mouth, heathen!”

  They loaded up and headed to the venue without any other distractions. The club was packed, and Owen’s nerves were twisting his insides. He’d never performed in front of a crowd before.

  Sammy wouldn’t allow Dex in the changing room for fear he’d have to hose them down. Owen was giddy at the thought of Dex being so turned on by Owen’s getup and wouldn’t have minded the distraction. But this was Sammy’s show and Sammy’s rules.

  It was too late when Owen realized he'd made a huge mistake; he wasn't practiced in the skill of walking in high heels, much less performing simple dance moves in them. In fact, that night was the very first time he attempted to step foot in the silver sparkly stilettos, other than trying them on at Not Your Momma's Closet.

  He'd wobbled on his feet, grasping at anything stable to steady himself. By the time he'd made it up on stage, his legs were shaking from the effort to stay upright. The song started and his first dance move was his last. The sound of his ankle bones snapping would forever be imprinted in his mind.

  He was later told that his imagination supplied the sound he’d thought he heard. That the music from the sound system speakers would have been too loud for him to hear his bones breaking when his ankle gave out and his foot twisted sideways. But he knew what he had heard.

  This time, he couldn’t recall hearing his bones snap. There wasn’t much he could remember at the moment. His subconscious was probably trying to protect him from additional trauma. For that, he was thankful.

  8

  OWEN

  DEX RETURNED TO THE ROOM, hands absent of any additional paperwork the nurse mentioned. He had a worried look on his face.

  “What’s going on?” Better to beat him to the punch than sit stewing and waiting for Dex to say whatever was bothering him.

  Dex sank into the sofa across the room and rubbed his temples. “Should I call your dad? You might be more comfortable with him here than me.”

  Owen certainly did not want Dex to call his father. He lived on the other side of the country, and they’d barely spoken over the ten years Owen had lived here. He wasn’t interested in his life. “No, don’t call him. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

  He was beginning to get angry and made an effort not to raise his voice. He could feel the pain medication wearing off, making him all too aware of his injuries.

  His face ached with every movement of his mouth, and he quickly learned the hard way not to move his eyebrows or he’d be cursing himself in pain. His sides hurt whenever he took a deep breath. Slow, shallow breaths kept him from moaning with every inhale.

  And he didn’t want to think about hi
s ankle. The dull throb that started when he woke up now felt like hot pokers piercing his skin and rearranging the insides of his ankle. Where was that fucking nurse with his food? He didn’t feel like eating but he had every intention of asking for more pain meds.

  “The cops want to speak with you.” Dex chewed on his bottom lip. Owen waited him out; he could tell there was more. “They have questions about your injuries. I’m supposed to call and arrange for an officer to come by once you’re feeling up to talking.”

  “I don’t have anything to say.” Fuck. Why couldn’t he be left alone? Leroy got his revenge, and Owen wasn’t taking the unspoken threat of future retaliation lightly.

  “Owen…” Dex shook his head, the annoyance in his voice clear.

  He didn’t want Dex to know what his life had been like these past months. He didn’t want Dex pitying him. Owen was embarrassed beyond words that Dex was seeing him incapacitated and disfigured. And in pain. Fuck, he hurt.

  “Where’s the goddamn nurse?!” As the words tumbled out of Owen’s mouth, Dex flinched.

  “Use the call button,” came Dex’s annoyed response. He got up from the couch and headed to the door. “I need some air.”

  Owen should have felt bad for snapping at Dex. He should have apologized. Instead, he let Dex walk out of his hospital room and made no attempt to stop him.

  Everything was different this time. Dex had barely left Owen's side after his original injury. He was there in the ambulance ride to the hospital from Klub Kelly, he kissed Owen's lips right before Owen was wheeled into the OR, and his was the first face Owen saw when he came out of anesthesia.

  Now, Dex couldn't wait to get away from him.

  He recalled how Dex had pampered him, anticipating and catering to his every need after the last surgery. Cooking all of Owen's favorite foods, even though he barely had an appetite, gathering anything Owen could possibly need to put within reach while Dex was at school. He even added several premium channels to their cable subscription so Owen wouldn't get bored.

  What would life be like this time? He was alone, with no place to go. Who would take care of him? Sure, he was old enough to take care of his own business, but could anyone recovering from major surgery manage without any assistance?

  The material comforts and luxuries he could do without. It was the companionship and personal care he'd miss the most.

  * * * * *

  The nurse refused to give him anything for the pain. She cited the doctor’s orders for medication every six hours, and he still had two more hours to wait. Plus, he was allowed only ibuprofen, which was useless for keeping the pain at bay.

  He plucked at the container of yogurt that accompanied the apple juice and chicken broth which constituted the hospital’s sorry excuse for dinner. He’d let the broth get cold and the juice warm to room temperature while he stared unseeingly at the television.

  Dex hadn’t come back, and Owen was beginning to worry. He might never come back.

  Would serve you right. You treated him like shit for a long time. He doesn’t owe you anything, and it’s a wonder he actually came when called. He could have left you alone here.

  Two and a half episodes of The Golden Girls later, Dex returned.

  "Someone from the police station will be here tomorrow morning to take your statement. It's your choice whether or not you tell them what happened." He walked over to the couch and picked up his messenger bag. "I'm going home. You don't need me here, and the nurse can reach me on my cell if they need anything else from me. But I think you're capable of handling your care from here on out."

  The dread that had threatened to engulf him when Dex mentioned the cops wanting to talk to him hit him square in the chest. He didn't want Dex to leave him again. He was desperate for the stability and strength Dex’s presence provided him.

  Dex was always the calm, methodical one; he didn’t jump into anything without researching and weighing the pros and cons. Owen was more spontaneous and emotional. He could talk to Dex, tell him what he’d been through, and ask for advice. Dex wouldn’t judge him or abandon him, if only Owen could put aside his pride and say the words.

  "Wait. Please don't go." Owen made no attempt to disguise the pleading in his voice.

  Dex paused halfway across the room. He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, clearly uncomfortable. Owen did that to him. He was the ultimate shitty person, friend, ex-lover, for manipulating Dex.

  But he needed Dex. That was the justification he gave himself.

  “I don’t have it in me to fight you. We did this dance for a long time, and it got us nowhere.” Dex’s shoulders dropped and he exhaled loudly. “Don’t you remember? I did everything I possibly could to help you and to keep our relationship intact. But you didn’t want my help. I can’t go through that again.”

  What could Owen say to that? There was no denying he did all those things to Dex, that he was the cause of Dex losing all faith in him. How could he ask anything more of him? There was one thing he could try.

  “I’ll talk to the cops and tell them what I know.” Dex perked up at that and faced Owen. “I promise, Dex. Will you come back later tomorrow? Please?”

  Owen watched Dex’s expression change from hopeful to skeptical to neutral. “I’ll think about it. I’ve missed a full day of classes, and I can’t miss any more this close to the end of the school year.”

  You’re so selfish, not considering what sacrifices Dex made to be here with you. Dex loves his students and his job. Just another way you’re making Dex suffer for your shitty life choices.

  “I understand. Thank you for being here. I really appreciate that. If you don’t come back, I won’t bother you.”

  Dex nodded and mumbled, “Take care of yourself.”

  He walked back out without another word.

  * * * * *

  Owen wanted to throw his breakfast tray at the wall and scream. He was awake for most of the night, fighting chills and moaning from pain. The one time he managed to doze off, a nurse barged in his room to take his blood pressure and empty his catheter bottle.

  To make matters worse, Officer Linden was sitting at his bedside. “These aren’t the circumstances under which I had hoped to run into you again, Owen.”

  Owen barked out a sarcastic laugh and immediately grabbed his sides at the stab of pain from his bruised ribs. He squeezed his eyes shut and regretted that when the stitches in his forehead pulled.

  “You weren’t in the best shape when we met on the boardwalk, but today, you’re much worse. Want to tell me what got you here?” Officer Linden’s tone was gentle. Owen could hear his concern.

  He promised Dex he would talk, so why was it so hard? Didn’t he want to get in Dex’s good graces again? He had no hope they would get back together after all the shit he pulled, but having a loyal friend on his side wouldn’t hurt.

  “You know Leroy Sanders?” Officer Linden had his pad open and pen poised to write.

  Owen shrugged.

  “We found your cell phone on him. He’s a known drug dealer, and we’ve had him on our radar for quite some time. Mr. Atterbury tells me you have some issues with Oxycodone? When I ran into you on the boardwalk, you were obviously coming off of something.”

  Owen shrugged again, not wanting to confirm or deny anything Linden said. And when did Dex talk to a cop about Owen’s drug problem? His anger spiked, and he needed all of his effort to control his annoyance with Dex and suppress another outburst.

  Remember, this isn’t his fault. It’s all yours. If you’re going to be pissed at anyone, it should be at yourself.

  “I’m investigating your attack, and I can’t do my job if you don’t get me something to work with. Did you know that it was me who found you on the beach? I recognized your hoodie and flip flops.”

  Owen chest tightened. His already shallow breaths worsened, and his vision darkened. He felt the kicks to his torso Leroy and his companion doled out and the brass knuckles impacting his face.
He tried screaming just as he did on the beach. The roaring in his ears was so loud, he didn’t think he could shout above it to be heard.

  Blinking back the dark spots that threatened to overtake his view of the handsome cop, Owen waved his hands at his throat, hoping to signal his distress. Why couldn't he breathe?

  There was a flurry of activity around him. The next thing he was aware of was a nurse calmly calling his name. The face of a gray-haired man in scrubs came into focus.

  "Welcome back, Mr. Fredrikson. You took a nap on us." The nurse's jovial tone quieted some of the panic beginning to return.

  "I'm going to come back later. Give you time to relax. Then we'll talk more," Officer Linden said from the other side of Owen's bed.

  "No, stay. I'm fine. We can talk now." Owen's voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat. He didn't want Officer Linden to leave lest he lose his nerve. Best to pull the bandage off all in one go.

  "Mr. Fredrikson," the nurse chimed in, "panic attacks are no joke. I agree with the officer; he can come back this afternoon." The nurse looked to Officer Linden for confirmation.

  This afternoon might work. Knowing Dex, he would visit after school. His reliable Dex. Owen could then tell his story once, instead of rehashing it for both Dex and Officer Linden’s benefits.

  “Okay, this afternoon, then.”

  9

  DEX

  PATRICK WAS FURIOUS WITH DEX. “Can’t you see he’s manipulating you and taking advantage of you?”

  “I haven’t done anything more than sign the consents for his treatment. Beyond that, I haven’t given him anything.” Dex was tired from his day at school.

  His students were more cooperative than usual. Normally, he would be suspicious, but he didn’t have the energy to prod his classes into telling him what was up with their subdued behavior. So, he let each class do Sudoku worksheets while he graded their exams.