by Zoey Derrick
“Well¸ what the fuck?” I stutter. “I’ve never in my life…well, fuck. I don’t even know…shit.” Speechlessness is not something I’m used to, so I look away from Addison, toward the circle of men in black. Standing in the middle is, fuck, what’s her name? Kate? Kyle’s assistant. “What’s she doin’ here?”
Addison smirks. “Dex, meet the point of contact. Who I’m guessing is pretty pissed because she didn’t get fifty g’s for the pictures.”
“Fucking hell,” she spits out.
“So Kate, how much did you get for the pictures? You know, for curiosity’s sake,” I ask her. She doesn’t answer me. I’m not sure I can blame her, but looking at her now, actually paying attention to her, she’s oddly familiar and I don’t know why. “I know you. How do I know you? Why did I never see it before?”
“Because you’re too busy sticking your dick into some bitch’s cunt,” Kate snarls back at me and I see Addison take a step back. Kate has always been awkward when I’ve seen her. It’s almost comical seeing her so pissed off. But I’m baffled by what has her so pissed off.
“Well now, aren’t we feisty? So tell me, darlin’, what exactly have I done to you to make you want to pull a stunt like this?” I ask her. I can tell that pulling information from her is going to be nearly impossible.
“No way, Dex, you didn’t fuck her, did you?” Addison asks me.
“Hell if I know.”
Kate starts bawling and everyone in the room freezes. “What on earth would make you want to do something like this, Kate?” Kyle starts walking toward her, but he stops a few feet in front of her. That’s probably best because god only knows what she’s capable of right now.
“He…” She cries louder. “He’s responsible for my sister. He’s the reason she tried to commit suicide. He’s the reason she’s gone crazy.”
My mouth falls open. “What?”
“Stacy, do you remember her, asshole? Do you remember what you did to her? She was my sister and you fucking dumped her so that you could go off whoring around with whoever you wanted. It’s all your fault,” she sobs.
“She understood, she said she fucking understood. Now you show up here, trying to blackmail me, when she said she fucking understood.” I can’t help the rising irritation in my voice. Stacy and I made a mutual decision back then. What the fuck is this girl trying to do?
“She wasn’t enough for you. She was never enough, you always wanted more than her, and yet she stood by you, was there for you every night, then you just dumped her like yesterday’s garbage.”
“How much, Kate? How much did you get for the pictures?” I ask her. I need to know, I need to start rectifying this situation. I feel slightly responsible, but in the same token, I don’t.
“I needed money. I need money to pay for her hospital. I fucking need to save her,” she wails.
“How much, Kate?” I say to her.
“Ten grand,” Kate blurts.
“I didn’t know, Kate. Honest to god, I didn’t know.” My voice is eerily soft.
“If you cared about her at all, you would have never left her like you did, you would have never put her in the position she’s in.”
“So you decide to use me to get money for her? Did it ever occur to you that I might actually help her?” Kate’s eyes dart to mine, confused, shocked, I don’t really give a fuck. I’m pissed off, yet overwhelmed by what she’s done and the reason why…I don’t even know what she’s talking about, Stacy and I broke up a long time ago, and it wasn’t like we were together, together.
“She doesn’t need your fucking money, Dex. She needed you.”
Addison steps in between Kate and I. “This is no longer my concern, or anyone else’s for that matter. If you want to continue talking to Kate, that’s your choice, and I highly recommend it. But at this point, I think you need to take it to a private location. Without the audience.” Addison looks at Kate and then back to me before she leans in and whispers, “Keep one of the guys with you, for safety, they won’t judge you. But you really should talk to her. Talk to her before this turns into something bigger than it needs to be. This is personal and private, try and keep it that way.”
I nod and look at Kate. “Will you come with me? Talk to me some more?”
“I have nothing left to say,” she says snottily.
Addison straightens her spine and approaches her. She’s on the defensive. If I wasn’t so fucking hung-over and twitchy, I might have gotten a semi watching her. “You wanted his attention, you got it.”
“She was supposed to leave before sending me the pictures so this wouldn’t have come out,” Kate says to Addison. She’s retreating, retracting and regretting her course of actions. I can’t help but want to smile.
“Well, it did, and I’m sure I speak for Kyle and the label when I tell you that you’re fired. This might be your last chance to talk to him. Give him details on your sister and her condition. Believe it or not, I really do believe he had no idea and that he wants to help. Let him talk to you.” Addison’s voice is soft, but I’m shocked over the fact that Addison fired her. That’s really Kyle’s area. But I shrug it off.
“Fuck you,” Kate snarls at Addison. I notice Talon and Kyle both twitch in Addison’s direction, ready to protect her at a moment’s notice. Addison straightens a little further.
“Listen here, Kate, I am not your enemy. I feel sorry for your sister, honestly I do, but this is no way to help her. You’ve got ten grand now, but what about when you need more money, what next? Talk to him, work it out with him. Pinning this on him isn’t fair.”
She finally nods and I take that as my cue. I nod at Beck who precedes us from the room. Just before the door closes behind us I hear Addison telling someone, “Make sure she gets her stuff off the bus and out of her hotel room. Get her on a plane to wherever she needs to go and get her away from the band. We don’t need another incident like this popping up, at least not like this.”
I usher Beck and Kate into my suite. It’s still a mess from last night. I need to get the fuck out of here. I pray to god they got the coke out of here before now. Jesus, I don’t need that temptation. It’s bad enough I can feel that familiar ache burning in my veins. My desire for another line is growing stronger by the minute. I do not want to take it out on Kate, but unfortunately I’m wound tighter than a guitar string.
“All right Kate, you’ve got to understand something,” I say as soon as Beck closes the door behind us.
“Does he have to be here?” She points at Beck.
“Yes, I don’t trust you. You’ve already gone to a pretty big extreme with the stunt you pulled last night. He’s here for my protection and yours,” I tell her, my voice grows higher with anxiety. “Look Kate, I don’t owe Stacy anything. I’m sorry she’s sick, but fuck, Kate, it’s been three years.”
She sits down on the couch. “That’s how long she’s been in there.”
I shrug. “Look Kate, I’m sorry for what Stacy is going through, but you know as much as anyone what kind of life this is. You know as well as I do that Stacy wasn’t cut out for the road life. She wanted things that I don’t. She deserves things that I can’t give her,” I tell her as I cross my arms and lean against the wall. Stacy and I were never really together. I could never bring myself to fuck her like all the other girls, but that was because within a few hours of meeting me, she was all ‘I love you, Dex’. Okay fine, it wasn’t that dramatic, but it was pretty fucking close. I tried for weeks to get it through her head that I wasn’t interested like that. She wanted so much more than I was willing to give her.
She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the fight leaving her body. “Look Kate, I will help for a little while because I don’t need further blackmail from you.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could have talked to me, Kate,” I tell her. I step away from the wall, walking closer to her. “You could have told me who you are. We would have discussed this. But ins
tead you feed me the two things I can’t resist. Women and coke. Fuck, Kate. I’ve been sober for more than four years. I fight my addiction every day, and I sure as hell fight it every night.” I watch as the reality of what I’m telling her sets in. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? Fighting addiction?” She shakes her head. “It’s not easy.”
“It was just one time.”
“It only takes one time.” I sit down on the couch opposite her. I put my hands in my hair and my elbows on my knees. I can’t remember doing the coke. I can’t remember the high. I can’t remember anything about last night.
“Dex, I’m sorry.”
“Which part?” I grumble.
“The coke.”
“So that makes blackmailing me okay?” I ask deadpan.
“No. I… I didn’t know what else to do.”
“She’s not my responsibility. I think you’re holding the wrong person accountable for Stacy’s choices,” I tell her. She doesn’t say anything. Fine. I don’t really care. There were a lot of great times with Stacy and I would never deny that, but she wasn’t the right girl for me. I cheated on her more times than she deserved and frankly, it wasn’t right for either of us. I saw my choices with drugs and alcohol taking their toll on her and she deserved better than that. “I will help you out, pay for her medical expenses for the next three months, but then that’s it. There is something more going on with her and maybe someone needs to get to the bottom of it. I’m certain there is more to it than just me. You guys didn’t exactly have the best upbringing, there’s way more going on under the surface than you or maybe even she realizes. Get her a different doctor, move her to a different facility, I don’t care, but be there with her, help her get to the bottom of this.”
“I can’t afford to…”
“Considering you just lost your job, I’m pretty sure you can find something closer to her. Look,” I stand up from the couch, “I can’t and won’t help forever, three months, that’s it. If at that point she isn’t any better, then you need to figure out what to do from there. But if I catch you anywhere near me or find out that you’re lurking around somewhere or you show up at a concert, I will call the cops. She’s not my responsibility.”
I lean against the wall and look at her. Her shoulders are slumped and she’s completely deflated. She still doesn’t say anything. I let her sit for a minute and process what I’ve told her. Though I am trying to be nice about all this, it’s not my responsibility, not anymore.
“All right, Dex, you win.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “This isn’t about winning, Kate. No one is winning anything. I won’t have you trying to ruin my career over something that is not my fault.”
She looks me square in the eyes before speaking. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and fight the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s not worth much. At least not until this mess is swept under the rug and I know I’m not going to relapse. Until then…” I don’t finish the thought. I think I’ve made her feel bad enough already, no need to go into the fact that the familiar ache of addiction is starting to course white hot through my veins. After a beat I say, “I think we’re done here.”
She makes no move to get up. I look at Beck. He has concern in his eyes when they meet mine. I try to shake it off and I nod in her direction. “Get her information, make sure I have what I need to send the money to the hospital and get her out of here,” I say sharply and turn toward the bedroom.
Shutting the door, I lock myself inside, heading straight for the bathroom. I need a cold fucking shower.
My hand trembles as I reach for the faucet. My heart starts to race and panic rises. I wonder if they left any in my suite.
It’s in that moment that the guitar string snaps under the tension. I don’t remember who I am anymore. Like a moth lured by the warm light, addiction has taken over my rational thoughts.
Stopping at nothing, turning anything and everything upside down.
If it isn’t here…
I start to contemplate how long it will take me to score. What can I score the fastest? It’s the middle of the damn day.
Shit.
Fuck.
I freeze, my body shaking, my heart racing, panic replaced by a rushing sense of relief when I find what I was looking for all along.
It’s small.
It’s barely enough to make a dent.
But it’s more than enough to make the burn go away.
More than enough to satisfy the craving.
“Dex!” I hear someone, Beck, shouting and pounding on the bedroom door. “Fuck Dex, open the damn door.” His pounding persists. I can’t move away from the bathroom sink where I stare blankly at myself in the mirror while I have a fresh line of coke stacked, a twenty in my hand, rolled and ready to go. “God damn it, Dex, don’t you fucking do it,” Beck shouts, but his voice is in a vacuum, having very little effect on me. I hear him, but my mind won’t process his words.
My body won’t move.
The monumental consequences lie before me.
The choices.
What happens right now will either be the beginning or the end.
I slowly roll the twenty between my fingers.
Staring, contemplating.
Cure the burn.
Satisfy the itch.
Destroy my career.
More pounding. Harder, more persistent. I lean forward, bringing the twenty to my nose, ready to suck the sweet powder into my system and take it all away. Wash away the pain, wash the ache down the drain and piss away years of sobriety…
“Don’t.”
I freeze.
“Jesus, Dex, I’m sorry. I thought we got it all.”
Beck’s voice is the light I need. Our eyes meet in the mirror. Compassion and pity.
“Don’t fucking pity me,” I bark, returning to my previous focus. The snow, laid out all nice and pretty. Ready…
“I don’t pity you, Dex. Never have I ever pitied you and I won’t start now. You’re better, stronger than this.”
“It fucking hurts.”
“I know. Come on. Walk away from it. You can do it. I’ll make it go away.”
“It never goes away. It’s always there in the back of my mind, in the pit of my stomach, the need to do it, the need to feel it coursing through my veins.”
Beck comes to stand behind me. If anyone can pull me out of this, it’s him. He’s so close I can feel his body heat. I want to lash out at him. To fight him, to push him, to take out everything on him. His hand grips my wrist. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Drop it. Come on, man. We’ll go find a woman, we’ll go get inked, we’ll do fucking anything, but not this. Not here. Not after all this time.”
Every sensation is heightened, every sound is a million times louder, and everything is in slow motion. I hear my fingers snap, like a rubber band and watch as the rolled up twenty falls to the counter and unravels slowly, loudly.
I let out a long rush of air, scattering my line and I fall on my ass. “Take it away, all of it. Get it out of here.”
I lean back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest and I put my head against my knees, unable to watch Beck flush the bag.
I can hear him hustling to get rid of it as fast as he can. I jump the moment the toilet flushes.
Beck leaves the bathroom. I can tell by the sound of his shitkickers against the carpet. When he comes back again, I don’t look at him but the toilet flushes again.
“It’s gone,” he says softly.
“All of it?” I breathe out.
“Yes.”
“Good, get me the fuck out of here.”
I put my hand up and Beck pulls me to my feet and he looks me square in the eyes. “We cool?”
I shoulder check him and give him a half-assed smile. “We’re cool.”
Fifteen minutes later, Beck, Leroy, Mouse, Peacock and myself are packed like sardines into the SUV they’ve acquired for the weekend. “Where we going?” I finally
manage to ask. I don’t feel anything like myself. In fact, I feel almost as though I’m outside looking in.
“Food,” Mouse answers. I nod absently. “Then ink.”
The idea cheers me slightly. I don’t know what the fuck is bothering me more. The bullshit with Kate, dragging up Stacy or the fact that I’ve pissed on four years of sobriety and that I feel like I have to start over. What I really need is a cunt to slide my dick into, but I’ll settle for the ink.
I got my first tattoo when I was 17. My left hand slides along my right side, just under my peck. Remembering the pain, remembering the torture and finally remembering how the excruciating pain was so intense that it brought me to tears. The tears I so desperately needed to shed. I’m pretty sure that my tattoo artist got an erotic rush of enjoyment out of torturing me that day. All tattoo artists have to be sadistic in some way or another. Whether it’s sexual gratification or just the slight joy of inflicting pain on their subjects, either way requires a sadistic streak. Never trust a tattoo-less tattoo artist. They, in my experience, are the worst. I swear to god when they’re done, they run off to the bathroom and stroke the fucking monkey.
“Here,” Beck says from the driver’s seat. I look out the passenger side of the SUV and we’re somewhere called Fajitas. I have no idea where the hell we are, just that we’re somewhere in Phoenix. The five of us pile out of the car and head toward the door. Beck stays back with me.
“Hey,” I say.