“Sounds good, I’ll see you then,” I said, hanging up the call and taking in a deep breath for the first time. Courtney was quickly becoming my escape, my anti-drug in a sense. Seven was only an hour away, which gave me plenty of time to shower and get ready.
Oh fuck, a shower.
I realized how much I missed my own shower just as my bare feet stepped on the blue rubber matt underneath, the steamy hot water hitting my muscular back, relaxing the tension that was balled up in between my shoulders this whole time. It felt so good just standing there, water dripping off me in buckets, soaping up my body with my own scrub, surrounded by the dark gray tiles lit by the soft orange lights. I felt like I was in a spa fit for kings, especially when I compared it to the walk-in closet converted into a hospital bathroom that I was being forced to use just the day before.
Drying off was similarly orgasmic, with the soft, cushiony white towels draped over my body. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a handsome, muscular, wounded, and tortured soul looking back. I saw my tattoos, each seeming to find a new meaning under the circumstances of a near-death experience. The koi fish seemed to dance on top of my bicep, swimming up through their struggles, trying to reach the top, that bliss. I turned and looked at the phoenix on my back, a blazing orange, its fierce beak aimed upwards in a trail of fiery glory.
Rebirth.
I looked at myself one more time, really looked at myself, and went back out into my bedroom where I changed into a navy blue button-up and some fitted dark denim jeans. I threw on my grandfather’s silver and blue Rolex and headed out, hoping that my appearance on the outside would disguise the tumultuous emotions underneath.
It took me about twenty minutes to get to Courtney’s apartment complex which was tucked into a street off of the main Hollywood strip. This meant several different types of people would wander up her street; homeless men in varying amounts of clothing, drunk tourists looking for the nearest “titty bar," drug addicts looking to score their next hit, and the occasional film crew that used the historic apartment building next door as a famous movie location. It was an interesting place to live in, to say the least.
I parked and walked up to her apartment, dodging someone who I was pretty sure was a prostitute. My heart was beating a little faster than usual, which I wanted to attribute to nerves about seeing Courtney, but it could also have been my body calling out for the numbness again. I buzzed up to her apartment and was let in, walking through the dimly lit hallways carpeted with an old, stained green carpet. I heard a baby's shrill cry come from an apartment to my right while two men loudly argued in the apartment straight down the hall.
Courtney's apartment, although unmarked by loud sounds, wasn’t too hard to find, being one of the first few on the left. I knocked on her door and felt my breath get taken from me one more time. It was incredible what this girl could do to me already. Just opening a door sent me a shockwave.
Standing in front of me was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever lain my eyes on. Her auburn gold, waterfall-like locks came falling down onto her shoulders, exposed by her low cut and perfectly fit black dress. It proudly revealed the tops of her perfect breasts. Her lips were a quite, but powerful red, highlighting the light pink blushy hue her cheeks were. I hunched down a bit to hug her, holding her in my arms, smelling her sweet, flowery scent again, feeling her delicate head against my strong chest. It was close to bliss. Not exactly bliss, not yet at least. I wished it would be. I wanted to believe against all hope that Courtney would be stronger than the drugs, that she would give me the paradise I needed. I just couldn’t tell yet. I felt the cold, cruel, wrinkled claw of addiction latch onto my shoulder, threatening to pull me back.
“You smell great,” Courtney said, stepping out of her apartment and locking it behind her. I was a little taken aback, thinking we would spend some time in there, hoping that maybe something would escalate, but it looked like Courtney had different plans. She smiled up at me, her face a perfect painting deserving a spot next to the Mona herself. I smiled back, unable to hold it, a big, goofy grin taking control as she worked her magic.
“So… we’re gonna get steak right?”
“Ah, right. Sorry, you just stopped me in my tracks for a second,” I said, still grinning but also realizing I had just been standing there like a fool.
“I thought I was going to have to shock the doctor back to life,” she said, not acknowledging the fact that she was so stunning she literally made me freeze. She stood there, in her tight little black dress that stopped just above her knees. The low cut drawing my gaze towards the tops of her beautiful breasts, her pale, tender skin ready to be kissed.
I couldn’t resist touching her. I wanted to make some sort of physical contact, she was a pure magnet. I put a hand on her lower back and started walking, feeling her hips sway as we both made our way down the hall, Courtney apologizing for the loud Mexican music and intense smell of pot coming from one of the apartments.
“Do you smoke?” she asked me as we made it past the thick cloud of marijuana.
“I used to, back in my yesteryears.”
“Yesteryears?”
“Yeah, it means a long time ago,” I explained to her as I opened the door that lead out onto the crazy streets. My car wasn't parked far, so we didn't have to dodge too many crazies in order to make it. I walked over and opened the passenger side door to my jet black Audi, letting Courtney slide into the seat.
“No, I know what it means, I’m just wondering why you’re talking like a ninety year old woman,” she said, her infectious smile-making the joke even that much funnier.
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you, this is all plastic surgery. I’m actually ninety-four.”
“Explains why you have NPR on your favorites list,” she said, tuning the radio and landing on a new Britney Spears song. She had sung two words before she switched the radio back to NPR.
“It’s on my favorites list too,” she said, looking over at me and sticking her tongue out just the slightest bit, catching it between her pearly white teeth and giving me the most perfectly playful expression. It also brought my attention to her red lipstick, covering her full, kissable lips.
“So where are we going?” She asked, pushing a strand of her beautiful, dirty-blond hair behind her ear with her delicate fingers. I felt a familiar swelling begin to happen as I started to picture her soft fingers trailing their way down my six-pack, running through the waves of muscle and reaching underneath my boxer-briefs.
“Roman, it’s a really great steakhouse,” I said, still picturing her supple breasts out on full display, yearning for my touch.
“Nice, I think I’ve heard of it.” I imagined our bodies, pushing together, our sweaty passion creating immeasurable pleasure.
“Yeah, its had some famous people eat in there, pretty exclusive,” I said, imagining what it would feel like if Courtney and I climbed into the backseat where I could fuck her. Then things began to take a turn. I started to think about having her ride me while I was high, and then I just started thinking about getting high again. It was a little easier for me to push away the desire to silence the pain now that Courtney was by my side, but it was still there.. I was starting to realize what I wanted more.
Yet, even with that realization, the temptation to fall back into my old life was still pretty strong. The rest of the ride was Courtney being an incredible date; talking about her summer trip to England. About how her dad’s Cuban family would throw big parties every time one of her cousins turned fifteen. I rested my right hand on hers, the touch stopping her story for just the slightest second, and I focused on forgetting about the painkillers, which most people know never works. Once you mention the pink polar bear and tell people to not think about it, what’s the first thing they do?
Think about it.
And that’s exactly what I was doing. I was trying to focus on Courtney and forget about the painful reminder that was getting stronger in my chest, but I couldn’t. Not yet a
t least.
“So we walked into the pub and said ‘Howdy, mate!’ thinking I was a cowboy in Australia. Well the bartender wasn’t too impressed to say the least,” she said, her story bringing me further out of my pink polar beat situation.
“Try doing a British accent,” I said, challenging her and hoping that she was bad enough to make me laugh. Laughing was the only anti-drug that seemed to have been working.
“Oh, you can’t put me on the spot like that,” she said, blushing a bit, “now bugger off ya’ wanker,” she finished in a perfect British accent. I looked at her, impressed, and then we both laughed, pushing the drug from my mind. I felt myself send it farther and farther from my consciousness with each chuckle afterwards. I started feeling at ease with Courtney.
"If you could go one place in the world, right now, where would it be?" I asked her, a question I often asked whenever I wanted to get a better feel about a person. Not that I had any doubts about Courtney, but I found myself wanting to get to know everything about her. Down to how she likes to eat her cereal and which side of the toilet paper roll she leaves facing out.
Those are the things that mattered in this world.
"Right now? Ah, I don't know. That’s such a hard choice! Can I pick two?” she said, squeezing my hand a bit. How could I say no to her?
“Yeah, go for it.”
“Ok. The first would probably be to Cuba, that way I could visit my grandma and finally get some authentic Ropa Vieja and a real Cuban Coffee.”
“I don’t think I’ve had that? Ropa Vieja?” I asked, admitting my deepest guilt (besides trying drugs, of course); not exploring different foods more and also revealing my tenuous grasp of the Spanish language.
“Well in english it means ‘Old Clothes’, but it’s one of the best ways to cook shredded beef! I’ll have to make it for you one day,” she said. I could feel her looking over at me. I took my eyes off the road and met hers for a fleeting second, a smile forming.
“How about the second place?”
“I'll have to go with Sydney," she said, playing with a shiny silver ring shaped out to be an owl, small blue sapphires adorned its eye sockets. I could tell something in her voice shifted, like she was recalling a cherished memory.
"It's a beautiful city," I said, thinking about the one time my parents took me, before the drugs had taken me, "any special reason?"
"My mom. It was where she was born," she said, her voice trailing off. I knew what that meant, and my heart broke for her. I reached out a hand and placed it on her thigh, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
"It's ok. She passed about three years ago, sudden stroke."
"I'm sorry," I said, wishing I could take some of the pain away from her. I couldn't begin to imagine the grief she must have endured. I saw it often at the hospital and could never get used to it, especially when I had to be the one delivering the devastating news. The first few times were rough and the nights were sleepless.
"So, yeah. I've never had a chance to visit Sydney and the Euro trip was a prize from a contest I had won. I just sort of wish I could get a chance to see where she used to live, what school she went to, the markets she would shop at. Those kinds of things." She looked out at the streetlights blurring by, palm trees mixing in with the passing houses, interspersed between larger mini-mansions. She fit in so well with the scene, a beautiful model ripped out of the pages of a magazine and placed down on my passenger seat, the onyx black leather hugging her figure. I was overwhelmed with an urge to give her anything she asked for. I wanted to make her happy beyond her wildest imaginations.
"I'd love to go to Sydney too. And then make a little detour to Queensland and check out the Australia Zoo. Steve Irwin was actually a hero of mine," I said, remembering my childhood days watching the crocodile hunter look so badass and teach about animals at the same time. It made me grow up thinking I wanted to become a veterinarian, then my life got derailed by the drugs, and then I realized I just couldn't resist helping people. So I became a doctor instead.
"No way! I loved him too!" she exclaimed, slapping her thighs, her smile growing and lighting up her beautiful face once again. It lit up even more as we pulled up to valet.
"This is it," I said as the attendant came around to the car.
"It's beautiful," she said, looking up at the classic brownstone converted to a modern steakhouse. I watched her slide out of my car, her body moving like a trained dancer, fluid and mesmerizing, enchanting.
She was becoming my drug.
CHAPTER NINE
“What do you mean we can’t get a table?” I asked to the pompous hostess standing behind the sleek black podium, barring our entrance into Roman. Her arms were posted on either side of the stand, marble it seemed like, as she pouted at us with the face of someone who’s head is so far up their asses that they can see Alaska.
“Sorry, sir, we’re at capacity for the night.”
“But surely, someone is going to leave?” I argued, looking over her shoulder and seeing the extravagant dining experience. Glass chandeliers hovering over pristine ivory tables, a dark gray paint job that gave off a very expensive feel. I had been here before and knew it would blow Courtney out of the water. All I wanted to do was find any way to impress her, to make her mine. Besides, I was pretty sure this place was the perfect panty dropper.
“Right, sir, but we still can’t accommodate more.” Her arms were now crossed, probably trying to give herself a more commanding presence. Instead, she just looked like the stern rich girl next door that didn’t talk to “the help”. And even after all that, look at who was the one helping people find their seats now.
I couldn’t just take it, I felt like we were being discriminated against for some reason, as irrationally Los Angeles that sounded of me. Courtney grabbed my elbow and motioned towards the exit, but I wanted to eat there, damn it.
“Well let me talk to your manager. We’ve played basketball together and I took care of his kid a few months ago,” I said, talking about Lucas Richardson, the hotshot bartender turned manager of one of the finest dining experiences in Los Angeles. I knew that Lucas would let me in, not that we were that close or anything, also ignoring the fact that I only knew him because I played against him once in basketball and his kid came in for a routine physical, but I still felt like I had some leverage.
“If you’re talking about Lucas, sir, he left two weeks ago. Sarah is the new manager.”
She was annoying the shit out of me with her sirs.
“Well let me talk to Sarah then,” I demanded, feeling Courtney getting a little impatient. It was the second squeeze of the elbow that told me I needed to quit. It was a losing battle and I would probably have made a fool of myself anyway.
“You know what, forget it, mam,” I said, forcing a smile and heading back to the car with Courtney. She put a reassuring hand around my waist and looked up at me. I felt bad for letting her down but I should have known she was going to come up with a back-up plan.
“In-N-Out?”
I could have taken her up in my arms and ravaged her there and then. This girl was suggesting we go to one of the most delicious burger joints on the planet as our first date, even though we were dressed for a night under dimly lit chandeliers and clinking wine glasses. I couldn’t clearly couldn't say no. If anything on this earth was similar to cocaine, it was an In-N-Out burger.
Well… that and sex.
“You’re not real,” I said, opening the car door for her and walking over to mine, wondering how lucky I was to have this girl for the night. And best of all? I wasn’t thinking about the drugs anymore.
“Ugh, I was hoping you wouldn't figure that out so soon. Usually it’s by the third date that people find out I’m secretly a sex robot sent to destroy earth,” she joked. I was well aware of the fact that she said sex robot and not something like sudoku-loving robot or baking robot, as nice as a daily batch of fresh cookies would be.
“Shit, how can I deactivate you then?!” I said, pla
ying along and feigning panic.
“You can never turn me off,” she said, her voice a little more seductive than I think she intended, mainly because she tried to joke it off by adding, “unless you drop me in water,” and then mimed being a robot getting electrocuted. We both cracked up again and I felt myself falling for her more and more.
This was dangerous.
“No but really, how fucked up would that be?” I asked, imagining for a moment that Courtney had to destroy the world by having sex with people. Well, sex with me.
“Seriously. Imagine someone coming into your office and saying they've almost been sexed to death by a blond robot slut.”
“This is all fiction, by the way,” she quickly added, as if I would believe she was indeed a blond, killer robot on the hunt for her next fuckable victim.
“Thanks, I was getting a little scared,” I said, feeling happy again. For once I didn’t think about the drugs, not since waking up at least. I was so happy that I couldn’t help but put my hand down on her exposed thigh, half on her black skirt and half on her bare skin, warm underneath my touch. I noticed her keep talking without breaking stride, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
She talked about how her dachshund, Leslie, was a lesbian and that she was so glad she picked a good name for the puppy. “Lesli the lesbian dachshund has such a nice ring to it,” she said, reminiscing on how much she loved her childhood pet. My hand stayed there, squeezing her thigh just the smallest amount when she would say something funny or interesting. The touch was sending hot flashes of heat straight up my arms, down my back, and straight towards my crotch. I wanted to feel more of her, to have her fully exposed so I could run my hands over and under her curves, her breasts, her ass, her face. I wanted to explore everything about her and never come back to earth, I wanted to get lost inside of her.
“Oh, I think you passed it,” she said, pointing out that I had indeed passed our new date spot. I made a u-turn and pulled up, a homeless man with his shopping cart full of valuables was parked by the garbage bin. A stark contrast from the elegance of Roman.
Numbed (The White Coat Series) Page 6