Press Play

by Sam LaRose

  “Can I help you?” He asked, coolly.

  “Just checking in with a customer,” she answered. “I’ve got what you want, if you got what I need.”

  “Uh huh. How much you got on you tonight?”

  “You can get my stash for a buck fifty.”

  Dylan did the mental math. Ten pills out of the hands of what had to be one of the most incompetent drug dealers in the city. On the other hand, he really couldn’t be caught buying more pills.

  “Not tonight,” Dylan said firmly.

  “You sure? I got other buyers.”

  “I’m positive,” Dylan’s jaw tightened. “A lesson for next time, Little Girl, don’t approach people who aren’t alone.”

  She seemed to notice Kyle for the first time. He gave her a stoic, unimpressed expression in return to her confused surprise.

  “Sorry, Big Money,” she murmured. “Offer stands, if you change your mind.” She slunk off looking disappointed. Dylan inhaled deeply.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You bought off her before?”

  “I bought her stash at the Rose Room. I didn’t take it. I just didn’t want someone else to take it. She’s a terrible dealer. I should tip off the bouncers. It’s only a matter of time before she kills somebody. A court appearance might do her good.”

  “How was the rest of the week?” Kyle asked, deftly changing the subject.

  “Good. I finished the first batch of small commissions. I ordered the supplies to do a few large paintings. I started the talks for the mural project on the Lower East Side. Since everything was settled with Stuart’s estate, things have been going smoothly.”

  “Excepting the issues with your parents,” Kyle guessed.

  “I’m sure they’ll make some empty apology and we’ll go back to pretending that everything is fine in a few weeks. Meanwhile, I’m still being stalked.”

  “How do you know?”

  “There’s a gentleman two tables behind you –don’t look,” Dylan warned, “he sat down about two minutes after we did. I assume it’s Benjamin’s replacement because I don’t recognize him.”

  “You’re not going to say anything?”

  “What am I going to do? Go up and hit the guy?”

  Kyle twisted around in his chair, looking out over the room. “The guy in the baseball hat and the black jacket?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait here.”

  “What are you doing?” Dylan pressed his palm to his face. “What have I done?”

  Kyle strode casually toward the man. He passed the table, then looped back around a moment later to approach him from behind. Dylan watched the man jump, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. He couldn’t hear what Kyle said to him. They seemed to make some kind of an exchange before the man gave Kyle a curt nod. He finished his drink before he made his way toward the exit.

  “Where’d you go?” Jordan was just setting down their drinks as Kyle resumed his seat.

  “I got rid of Dylan’s security detail. Sort of.” Kyle took a first drink.

  “You had someone following you?” Jordan asked, pushing Dylan’s bottle of water closer to him.

  “After finding out how long Benjamin followed me, I’ve been keeping an eye out. I was tailed all week. Jokes on them because I didn’t go anywhere. If my parents want to pay someone to be bored out of their skull, it’s their dime.”

  “I had no idea. Maybe we should go back to the apartment?”

  “Why?” The bottle crinkled as he opened it. “They can sit in a car outside the apartment building just as well as they can sit drinking cokes in here.”

  “I informed him that as long as you were with me, no one was touching you,” Kyle informed him, taking a sip of his beer. “I also promised to text if something did go awry, so you can enjoy tonight completely free. You’re welcome.” There was a brief pause while he took a second sip of his cider. “Is that proof that I like you well enough?”

  Dylan felt flush on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean...” He fumbled, recapping his water bottle. “I have to go to the rest room.” He pushed away from the table.

  “What did you do?” Jordan’s tone was teasing as Dylan moved out of ear shot.

  “Nothing.” Kyle was adamant. “We were just talking. Can I not talk to him?”

  Jordan frowned.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  “Uh huh. What were you talking about with Markus and Jack on the way over here? Don’t think I didn’t notice the three of you trying to be sneaky.

  “I suggested to the two of them that we should leave the two of you alone tonight. Neither of you needs pressure from any of us.”

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not saying something.”

  “I know you, neither of you, are into doing something together,” Kyle stumbled over the statement. “You know Markus is open to anyone, any time. Jack has already said he’s interested in Dylan. And...and I get it.” He shrugged. “He’s a likable, attractive person.”

  “Kyle, I love you.” Jordan reached across the table, taking his hand. “If you want to sleep with Dylan, that’s mostly not my business. I’d never stop you, if it’s what you want to do. I also know Dylan well enough now to say he’s not in the headspace. Especially if he’s not using sobriety as a crutch to not have fun anymore. He hasn’t said it, but this thing with Benjamin really fucked with his head.”

  “I wasn’t going to hit on him or anything.”

  “Can we have fun tonight? Dance. Have a few drinks. Relax. Just be friends.”

  Kyle nodded. “That’s all I want. Promise.”

  Across the bar, Dylan stood in the bathroom. He’d taken up residence in front of a sink. He washed his hands slowly and methodically. He’d felt a tightening in his chest moving up to block his throat. It subsided with the deep breathing and the focused noise of the running water, which also had the effect of making him need to pee. He dried his hands before standing at the urinal. He hated public rest rooms. They smelled weird. There was no privacy. It didn’t matter how many other urinals were open, but men always seemed to take the one nearest. And the worst: idle chit chat. It ranked just slightly above the number of men who didn’t wash their hands before leaving.

  By the time he finished washing his hands the second time, the tightening had released. He felt normal again. Or, as normal as he ever did. He was about to step back out into the bar area when The Girl pushed her way in.

  “Hey again, Big Money.” She kept her voice down this time.

  “Are you following me now?” He narrowed his eyes. “You must really need to make a sale.”

  “I’ve got three tabs left,” she quipped. “They’re yours for...forty bucks?”

  “You must not have much of a profit margin,” he retorted.

  “Do you want or not?”

  Dylan reached into his pocket for his loose cash. “I’ve got...thirty-five dollars and...” he bounced a handful of change on his palm. “Sorry, thirty-seven dollars and forty-two cents.”

  “Deal.” She reached over, tucking a small bag into his front pocket before sweeping the cash out of his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Big Money.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Dylan requested. “Do yourself a favor and find a real job. I’m only enabling you because you’re going to hurt somebody.” He stepped away from her, holding open the bathroom door. “Ladies first.”

  She gave a derisive sniff and jutted out her chin as she exited the bathroom. Dylan sighed, letting the door swing closed behind her. The restroom was empty now. Lucky? He felt the weight of the bag in his pocket. The creases of the bag felt like they were stabbing into this pelvis. He pulled it out and counted the three white compressed pills. They were different from the capsules she’d sold him last time. Smaller and stamped with a foreboding skull symbol. He walked over to the sink, the weight feeling different in his hand. He turned on the faucet, ready to tip them into the stream. He shook them out of the bag in to
his palm and stared down at them. He had no idea what purity they were or what they could be laced with. Cocaine and meth were likely.

  He didn’t need to take them, he tried to convince himself. He’d bought it to keep it out of the hand of someone else. Someone who might not be able to handle it. To keep that idiot girl from killing somebody.

  He hadn’t bought to keep himself safe.

  He gritted his teeth. The hum of running water filled his ears. It felt too loud, echoing around the chamber-like bathroom. Finally, some other part of his brain seemed to make the decision for him. The pills entered his mouth, followed by cupping his hand and sucking water from his palm.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It took about ten minutes for the drug to kick in. Dylan felt like the lights were suddenly brighter. He was seeing new colors. That was something he enjoyed. There was a buzz in the back of his head that hummed to move. His knee started bouncing as he waited for Kyle and Jordan to finish their drinks.

  “What’s wrong?” Jordan reached over, putting a hand on his knee.

  “Are we ready to go dance yet?” Dylan asked.

  “Yeah, sure.” They all scooted back from the table. Their chairs scraped against the floor in a high-pitched squeal that made him wince. Jordan slipped his hand around his arm, keeping him close. The touch made his skin tingle.

  “Keep it together, asshole,” he swore at himself.

  “Dylan, are you okay?” Kyle’s hand touched his back, making him shirk away at the unexpected contact. The fabric moving against his skin under pressure felt like sandpaper.

  “I’m great, why?” Dylan had to shout louder as they got closer to the speakers. On the ground floor, the beat vibrated across the floor. It was a sensation he enjoyed sober, but with the drug cruising its way through his system, it was even better.

  “I see M and JP.” Kyle motioned them toward the pit area. “We can probably squeeze in.”

  Dylan had no qualms about filtering his way into the crowded pit. People shifted aside as he made his way closer to Markus and Jack. His eyes roved the crowd. It had been a long time since he’d picked someone up on the dance floor. He looked for small signs of someone who was open to a different partner. A couple of trios looked promising.

  As Jordan and Kyle caught up to them, he drifted further into the crowd. He found himself waylaid by an imposing figure. A head taller than he was. Very dark and broody looking. The man’s arms wrapped around his waist and they swayed together to the too-loud music. Before he knew it, their mouths were pressed together and the stranger’s hands were under the hem of his shirt.

  Dylan was jerked abruptly back into reality by a hand on his shoulder. Jordan looked incredulous. He said something Dylan couldn’t hear over the music. Jordan repeated it, but the music just seemed to get louder. His dance partner gave him a sheepish nod of apology. Not very broody any more, and went off in search of his next partner.

  Jordan whipped out his phone, typing something out on the screen.

  [You’re high AF right now aren’t you?]

  Dylan took the phone.

  [It’s not a big deal.]

  [It is a big deal. What did you take?]

  [E, I hope.]

  [What does that mean?]

  [It means we live in America where people mess with shit and I didn’t track down a reliable seller.]

  [Do you have more?]

  [You want some?]

  Jordan’s expression spoke clearly enough, but for emphasis he still typed [NO].

  [Good. I don’t have more.]

  [Really?]

  [You want to check my pockets? Go for it.]

  Jordan seemed to contemplate for a minute before he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He made to grab him by the wrist, then thought better of it. He shook his head and turned away, making his way through the crowd. Back to Kyle and the others.

  Dylan felt the tightening return to the chest. He wasn’t sure where he was in the high. The panic attack was taking over the serotonin’s effect. He felt hot, which made the tightening worse. He gritted his teeth, looking for the easiest way out of the middle of the pit. He navigated through pockets of the crowd, not bothering with unheard apologies. Outside the pit, Dylan made his way over to the door that would lead to the green rooms. The staff member at the door looked familiar. The real key was to look like you belonged. He straightened himself out, and strode confidently toward the door. Everything inside him felt like it was on fire.

  The staffer said nothing as he pushed his way through the door. He bypassed the green rooms, making his way for the alleyway door that he’d snuck out of his first night back in the city. The night air felt like it was stabbing him in the face as he sank to the ground beside the door. It was worse as he realized he’d begun crying and the tears cooled on his cheeks.

  He pressed his forehead to his knees, gasping for air. How many panic attacks was this now, since he’d gotten home? Three? Four? Did the crying jag he’d had in Jack’s lap the week before count?

  “Dyl.”

  He jerked his head up, groaning as he cracked it against the brick wall. “Fuck.”

  Jordan sighed, reaching down to rub the back of his head. “What’s going on?”

  Dylan let his forehead lower to his knees again. “I should have gone home.”

  Jordan shifted, sitting down on the ground in front of him. “Let’s go home then.” His other hand joined the first. “We should get some ice for this bump.”

  “Don’t.” Dylan pushed his hands away. “Just stop. There isn’t a we, okay. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can,” Jordan pressed. “That doesn’t mean I can’t still help you. Fuckin’ A, Dylan. That’s all I’ve wanted to do; help you.”

  “I don’t want your help.” Dylan rocked onto his heels. It took him an extra moment to steady himself as he stood. “I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone.”

  “You want to be alone?” Jordan repeated. “Fine. Be alone.” He threw his hands in the air before pulling himself to his feet as well. He took a couple of steps back toward the alley door. “I’m done trying.” He turned back to him, “I must be insane. We’re all going fucking insane. Me, Tyler, Jack, now fuckin’ Kyle? You even got this Benjamin guy under your spell. How do you even do it? What is it about you? I can’t even chock it up to filling out and growing up –because you’ve always had this superpower, haven’t you? You collect guys like Happy Meal toys. Play with us for a couple of minutes, then chuck us in the trash.”

  The tightening resumed. Dylan leaned back against the wall. The hazy buzz of residual Ecstasy was making Jordan hard to follow. All he was absorbing was that he was pissed off. He was pretty sure Jordan was yelling as his hearing failed him completely. The brick of the wall prickled at his shirt and scraped his arm as he started to sway to the side. He felt a stinging in his knee. A ringing sensation colored his vision red and...purple? He pulled in a sharp inhale his shoulder hit the ground; then his head as he rolled onto his back. It was the last breath he remembered taking.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Hey, what’s up?” Tyler cradled his phone between his ear and shoulder. He was sitting in a booth with David and Mora. Charlie’s was a regular hang-out of theirs. It was a small gay bar, a few blocks from the apartment. It had been one of the first places David had introduced him to, on his first visit to New York.

  “There was an accident,” Jordan sounded confused. “I don’t know if it’s technically an accident. Incident is a better word?”

  “Jordan,” Tyler kept his tone even, “what happened?”

  “Dylan bought some drugs off someone at the Chop Shop. He had a bad reaction to it, I think. He collapsed in the alley after one of his panic attacks. The ambulance is taking him to Mount Sinai. He’s not talking to his parents, so I didn’t know who else to call. What do I do?”

  Tyler froze. He didn’t immediately know what to do either. His first reaction was to ask what the fuck they’d been doing
at the Chop Shop. Their plans for the evening had been to go to a gallery show, not put Dylan into an easy position for possession.

  “What’s wrong?” Mora asked, watching the color drain from his face. “Is Jordan okay?”

  “Where are you right now?” Tyler found his voice again.

  “We just got to the hospital. They let me ride with him. I lied and told them I was his boyfriend.” Jordan’s voice was getting strained. “They handed me a clipboard with some intake information, but fuck if I know any of this stuff.”

  “Jordan, I’m with David right now,” Tyler replied. “If it were me, I’d say screw whatever Dylan said and let him handle it.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I know, but they’re going to contact his parents anyway.”

  “Give me the phone.” David held out his hand. He didn’t need to hear any more. Tyler didn’t argue, handing over the device. “Tell me what happened.”

  Mora looked across the table at Tyler, eyebrows raised. He filled her in on what Jordan had said. She was immediately out of her seat, making her way to the bar. She slapped some cash down on the bar, before turning back to them.

  “Why the fuck are you still sitting there? Let’s go.”

  ***

  Dylan became aware of a nagging beep at his left side. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes refused to open. Voices filtered into his consciousness.

  “How the fuck did he even buy them? Someone is supposed to be watching him.”

  It was his father’s voice, angrier than he’d ever heard him before. Peter wasn’t the yelling type. It was his mother that was quick to ignite, but burned out quickly. It didn’t matter though. No one seemed to have an answer for his question.

  “Peter,” his mother’s voice now, “this isn’t the most appropriate place. Give the boys and Mora a minute alone with him, okay? It’s no one’s fault.”

  Dylan felt a burst of air pump through his nose and there was a loud beep. Internally, he flinched, but his body didn’t seem to react at all.

  “Fine,” Peter replied. “Five minutes, and then you all need to go home. No more arguments –that means you too, Mora.”