I have a bad feeling taking over in my gut. I pull the cord on the lamp, and sit alone in the dark with my thoughts for what seems like forever, before I finally doze off.
Why am I so cold? Where the hell am I? Shivers run through my body. Lifting my head from the cold, unforgiving, metal pillow, my world starts spinning. There’s something wet and warm running down my face. I reach my hand up to touch it, and gasp when I draw my hand back in front of me, staring in amazement. I move my fingers, and watch the light dance across the dark crimson covering my hand.
A crow caws in the distance, dragging me out of my trance. The midnight bird gracefully floats through the tree’s canopy. I watch as he glides effortlessly through the trees. My neck groans and cracks in protest at the movement.
“Fuuuuck!” I scream into the darkness.
I know that I need to get up, but my body remains frozen and numb. My mind races through the memories that led me to be in this situation.
Skye and I parted ways at the hospital. Before I left, I saw Tom with Skye tailing him and I decided to go to Chloe’s apartment, but before I could get out of the car, I’d noticed Todd leaving her building.
Since we’d just met with the detective and found out he was in town, I figured I would follow him and hopefully find out where he was staying. Todd pulled into a rough looking neighborhood about five minutes from Chloe’s apartment. As soon as he pulled into the driveway of what looked to be an abandoned house, I hauled ass out of there. I would call Detective Sanders and bring him here.
As I turned off the street, I passed Tom and Skye, driving in the direction I’d just come from. What the hell were they doing here? The neighborhood is known as “no man’s land” because it’s deserted, and known for harboring drug dealers. I called Detective Sanders twice and was sent straight to voicemail. My next plan was to go to Tom’s and wait for him to come home, so I could ask him what he was doing in that God-forsaken place.
I waited for Tom for about forty-five minutes before he finally got back to his place. I gave him enough time to get out of his truck, and unlock his door to his apartment. Once he was inside, I went to his truck and opened the door. He never locked it, so gaining access to it was easy enough. Nothing special jumped out at me except for his phone, which was sitting in the cup holder. I grabbed it and threw it in the glove box of my VW beetle, and hurried up to Tom’s apartment. He answered the door after the first knock and was staring down at me with bloodshot eyes. Why did he look nervous?
“Oh hey, Sara. Come in.” He stepped back so I could enter.
“Thanks. How are you?” I asked, pretending to care.
“Good, and you?” he asked while I crossed the threshold into the apartment. Tom was never much of a neat freak but his place was always tidy. That was definitely not the case today, however.
Dirty dishes were scattered all over the counters and coffee table, and clothes were haphazardly thrown all over the apartment. There was a broken picture frame lying on the carpet with glass everywhere. What the fuck? He noticed me looking around and rubbed the back of his neck, saying, “Sorry about the mess. Do you want something to drink?”
“No, I’m okay. I just wanted to talk to you about something.” I slid my hands into my pockets to keep from wrapping them around his damn throat.
“Oh, sure.” His eyes started searching my face. I could tell he was trying to figure out what was going on.
“Tom? What’s going on with you?” I cut straight to the point.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing’s going on,” he nervously replied.
“Look, we’ve been somewhat friends for I don’t know...forever. I know when something’s wrong, and you’ve been so off lately. You can talk to me, you know, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. We might not be like you and Chloe are, but if ya need anything, you’ve got me.”
His fists have clenched and unclenched the entire time I’ve been talking to him. I don’t think he’s even noticed it.
“Sara, I’m perfectly fine. This Chloe situation is just getting to me. Nothing else is any of your concern,” he said through gritted teeth. I’m so focused on forcing him to make eye contact with me that I hadn’t noticed the white ring lining the inside of his nose. I have a feeling he hasn’t either. There are only a few times in my life where I was so angry I couldn’t control my actions. We are treading on the razor thin line that separates normal Sara, and Sara strung out with rage.
I reined in my anger as much as possible and squared my shoulders. He copies my stance. I cock my head to the side and hitch my hip, looking him dead in the eye. “Tom, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure?” He looks confused.
“What in the hell is that white shit in your fucking nose?” I raise an eyebrow, daring him to lie to me. He takes his hand and wipes his nose. Sure enough, the white transfers to his fingers. His arm jerks toward his mouth; he realizes what he’s doing and stops himself.
Oh my God! “Were you about to put that in your mouth?” I say disgusted.
He looks around nervously. “You need to leave.” He makes no move to wipe it off on his pants.
“You were, weren’t you? And as soon as I leave, you’re going to stick those nasty-ass fingers in your mouth. How long, Tom?” It must be really bad if he was going to literally eat the booger-sugar off his fingers.
I don’t let him answer my question. Instead I blow up. “Are you fucking serious right now? How long? Huh? How fucking long have you been using? Do you realize what this could do to you? To Chloe? How hurt she’ll be when she finds out her best friend in the whole world is an addict? What else are you on?” I scream as I inch closer to him.
The mortification is apparent on his face. He places both hands in his pockets, his posture shamefully slumps over, and he stares intently at the floor.
Chloe will never allow that to be a part of her life again. Tom saw her mom and dad struggle with drugs and alcohol abuse, and how it affected her and her family. He was next door to her the entire time, so I don’t understand why he would ever do this to her. Hell, why would he do this to himself?
I ask the question I already knew the answer to. “Who do you get your coke from?” I put both hands on his chest, shoving him into the wall with everything ounce of strength I possess. Tears started running down my cheeks. “Who, Tom? WHO?” The rage inside of me has been building since he opened the door. The emotion so powerful it threatens to consume me. It twists through my veins, crawls up my spine, and wraps its thick course fingers around my neck.
Its presence overwhelming and all consuming. I fight to keep it at bay, to push back the inner demon clawing its way out of me.
“Sara, chill the fuck out!” Tom screamed. He tried to grab me, but I moved away from him before he could trap me in his deceitful hands.
“Todd’s your fucking dealer!” I bellowed
, taking a menacing step toward him. “How could you! Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” All the color drained from his face. Before I could stop myself, the rage took over. The demon inside me overtook all my senses, and before I realized it, my hand was extended, swiftly flying through the air with speed and determination. A loud smack resonates in the room. My palm stung but the pain wasn’t satisfying enough. I reached out my other hand, swinging with all my might. The blur of my arm flew fast, a second before my palm met his other cheek.
Angry red handprints adorned each cheek, their fiery color made me smile. Tom reached up, touching a place on his cheek, and winced. A satisfied smile graced my lips. He looked at me with a stunned expression. Before he could regain his senses and speak, I pointed an accusing finger at him and screamed, “Chloe was lying in a fucking coma, on life support, and you’re out here sniffing coke with the man that put her there? I can’t fucking believe you! Chloe is going to be crushed when she finds out.” Having enough of this argument, I turned and stormed down the step to my car.
Tom chased behind me. “Sara, wait!”
“I don’t have shit for ya, Tom, not anymore. Go back inside and figure out how you’re going to break all of this shit to Chloe.” I throw over my shoulder.
“I didn’t mean for this shit to happen like this, Sara. I swear, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Chloe, or you for that matter.” My hand was already on the door knob to exit the building, so I released it and spun around to face him.
“Me?” I laugh. “You don’t need to be worried about me. You need to be worried about the one person who has always been there for you. The one that has had your back, and bailed your sorry ass out of every bad situation you have ever been in.” I took a breath and continued. “But guess what? She can’t help you this time, Tom. She can’t clean up your fucking mess, and kiss the top of your head, and tell you it’s gonna be okay. You know why? Because she’s been in a fucking coma! It’s our turn to take care of her. She needs you, Tom. But how are you gonna be there with and for her when your head is in that bag in your pocket? How can you stand by her side, be the friend you should be, when you’re sneaking around with the guy who put her in the position she’s in. You make me fucking sick. You tell her, or I will.”
I exited the apartment building and walked to my car. Just as I turned the key in the ignition, I noticed Tom walking toward me. By the time he made it to my little VW Beetle, I was putting my car in drive.
I stomped the gas pedal; the car jolts forward. Screeching noises and a cloud of grey smoke filled the air as the tires ground against the pavement, I had nothing left to say to Tom. I needed to talk to Skye, and fill him in on all this shit. Jesus, someone needs to tell Chloe. I punched the steering wheel, causing the horn to sound, and at the same time I screamed my favorite word, "FUUUUUCK!"
Fuck! Sara’s in her car before I can catch up to her, and my pleas for her to listen to me fall on deaf ears. I don’t blame her. I don’t know if I can to tell her the truth about everything, or if I can possibly come up with something to appease her long enough to figure a way out of this fucking mess.
I run to my truck, jump in, and after punching the steering wheel repeatedly in frustration, I decide to try to call her. I had only planned to be in my apartment long enough to grab some paperwork I needed to go over and head to BAR. I’d left my phone in the truck, but now I can’t find it. A thought occurs to me and I pray I’m wrong. Sara wouldn’t go through my truck and steal my phone, would she? Shit, this ain’t good.
I pull the keys out of my pocket, slide them into the ignition, and crank my old beater. I need to get to BAR, call Sara, and try to figure this shit out.
How the fuck did I let myself get twisted in all this shit?
3 Months ago - BAR
“Hey, man.” I look up from my laptop and see Todd. It’s eleven in the morning and I’m at BAR, working on reconciling the accounts for the month. The bar has been struggling to keep the doors open for the past six months. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if I lose this place, and from the looks of things, it may very well happen.
“You got a minute?” he asks me, and without waiting for my answer, sits down in one of the beat up, leather chairs in front of my desk.
“Sure, have a seat,” I say sarcastically. What the fuck does he want? I haven’t seen or heard from Todd in almost a year. Once Chloe and Todd broke up, I stopped hanging out with him out of respect for her. Well, that and the dude is nothing but trouble. Chloe never would’ve involved herself with him if she knew the shit he was into.
“I need a solid, man.” Oh God. This is very, very bad. When Todd needs a favor, it usually means he’s into some serious shit.
“I don’t know–” I begin.
He interrupts me before I can finish. “Just hear me out, man. It’s nothing that you haven’t done before.” He pauses for effect. “I have a shipment coming in soon, and it’s some serious cash flow potential. I can’t do it by myself, I want someone who knows what they’re doing, and that I trust to have my back. You know how those Columbian guys can be. Just this once, man. I’ll split the profit straight down the middle. I’m talkin’ 500k a piece. Come on.”
Holy shit. That’s a lot of money and we can be in and out if things go smoothly. I can collect my money and move on. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t do this. “Man, I wish I could help you, but I just can’t. I’m out of the game. I can’t mess with that shit anymore. It’s too risky.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard you give that same speech before.” He grabs a post-it and a pen, jots down his number, and slides it in front of me. “If you change your mind, give me a holler. You have 'till Friday to give me a definite answer.” He gets up and walks out of the office.
“FUCK!” I scream at the walls and rub my hands over my face. I need to get the fuck out of here for a while. I lock down the bar and make my way to my truck. Things have been so fucked up lately. If I don’t get my shit together, I’m going to lose BAR, my apartment, and my fucking mind. How the hell did I even get to this point? Oh yeah, a two-hundred-thousand-dollar remodel to a bar no one comes to. I could kick myself for that one. Chloe warned me this would happen, but as usual, I didn’t listen.
Back at my apartment building, I check my mailbox and take the elevator to the sixth floor. I go straight to my nightstand and find my stash. I cut out two lines, roll a dollar bill, and quickly snort them both.
I’ve been doing coke since high school, and no one but Todd knows about my habit. I usually only do it on occasion, but lately it’s become a regular practice. It gives me a sense of control, helps motivate me to get shit done instead of sitting around this apartment and moping about the crap going wrong in my life.
I see the mail I collected earlier still sitting on the counter. Sifting through all the junk mail and bills, I find an envelope on the bottom with my bank’s logo. Fuck, here it is. I reluctantly open the letter. It states that BAR is going into foreclosure if I can’t make the payment this month, and that I have thirty days from the payment date to remove my belongings, and vacate the premises. I can’t lose BAR. It’s been in my family forever. It’s all I have left of my dad.
I grab my phone and dial Todd’s number. He answers on the first ring, but before he can say anything, I tell him, “I’m in. Text me the details. I want this to be a quick in and out, then I’m fucking done. Do you hear me? Done!” I hang up.
Three weeks later
The nights in Georgia are just as hot and muggy as the days. Todd and I are standing in an old abandoned warehouse. Nervous perspiration pours down the sides of my face. Santos and Andre are standing in front of us talking to Todd in Spanish. I guess they think I don’t understand, but I’m actually pretty fucking fluent.
“What’s he doing here? I wasn’t aware you had someone helping you,” Santos says to Todd.
“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you? Why would I come here alone?” Todd replies.
“Well, do you think if I had ill intentions for you, my friend, that one person could help you out of a bad situation?” Andre interjects.
“No, I just know he’s a hell of a shot, and that I need help transporting the merchandise. Now, do you got my money?” Todd asks him.
“Ah, straight to business. I admire that about you, my friend.” Santos smiles. It’s the most unnerving thing I’ve ever seen.
“Yes, one million even. Sebastian has a lot of faith in you. Never have I known him to pay so much just to transport his product. You must be good at what you do. Tell me friend, how do you do it and what exactly is it you do?” He hands Todd the envelope.
“That’s none of your concern. Have your men park the trailer at bay forty-two over there.” He points across the parking lot. “And I’ll take over from here. Tell Sebastian everything will be as it should in two days, and to contact me at midnight on the second day for his confirmation.” Santos nods at Andre, and Andre leaves the group to go speak to the men guarding the eighteen-wheeler loaded full of God knows what. This all seems a bit strange to just be handing off coke, but I don�
�t need to know anything else about this. I just want to get the job done, get my money, and get the hell out.
Fortunately, everything went off without a hitch. I received my money, paid off BAR with a little extra to spare. A couple of months go by and business is better than ever. I threw together some promos, like bringing in bands, bull riding competitions, and the customers started pushing each other down to get in the doors.
One week ago
Everything’s going great until Todd comes to see me again at BAR. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hiss at Todd.
“I just came to chill, man. Why, what’s the problem?” he casually responds. “Why don’t you come out back and talk to me. I got another business proposition for ya.”
“Not interested. Sorry,” I state firmly.
“Oh, I think you will be. Why don’t you let me show you what I’m talking about, you can make a decision then?” He raises his eyebrows and a manila folder.
Instead of taking him into my office, I lead him outside to the alley behind BAR. He hands me the folder full of pictures. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking at until I notice that I’m in every one of them. There’s one of me driving the truck of merchandise, pictures of me counting the cash, but what’s most disturbing are the pictures of what was in the back of the eighteen-wheeler. Men, women, and children are hidden behind wooden crates. What the hell? I look up at Todd. “What the hell is this?”
“Well, my friend that is you, along with what looks like illegal immigrants. Keep looking. You’ll see what’s in the crates.” I scan the rest of the pictures, and there are several shots of the open crates, loaded with stacks of different kinds of guns. It looks like they range from pistols to assault rifles. The next set of pictures is of the same types of crates, but these are filled with bags of cocaine.
More Than Friends Page 17