“Fuck you doing? You fucking up. You know that, right?” Noah said, dead serious. “Why do I feel like that lame-ass nigga you fucking with is the reason why you’re not in school?”
Bleu shook her head. “No, it’s not on him. I promise. It’s me. I kind of lost my way. I’m…” She thought about just telling him. He was the one person she could trust not to judge her, but she just couldn’t. “I’m just lost, Noah.”
“Come home,” he said. “Come back home and I’ll make sure you’re all right. I’ll make everything better. Whatever it is you’re not saying … I can fix it.” Noah knew that Bleu wasn’t divulging everything to him. It was just a feeling he got. Her vibe was off.
“I can’t,” Bleu said.
“Then you got to work on getting back to you, B. I’m not playing with you. Don’t make me come all the way back to Cali to fuck you up. Go back to school. Remember who you were before you let that la-la land shit change you. You’re not from there. You’re not Hollywood. Don’t let that fake shit throw you off, B. Look at all the shit you survived. I was there when you pulled your mom out of dope houses and when they shot up your pops in the middle of the street. I saw what you made it through. You really gon’ let the silicone and socialites be the shit to stop you?”
“I’m so far behind, though. You don’t know how hard it’s been for me,” Bleu protested.
“Sounds like you the only one stopping you,” Noah said honestly. “Think about it. For me, a’ight?” he asked.
“I will,” she replied.
Bleu heard the sound of a woman in the background and dreaded what he would say next.
“I’ve got to go, B. You need me, you call me. You sure there isn’t anything else you want to talk about?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” she said, her heart growing weary that the conversation was about to end.
“Is that nigga treating you right?” he asked.
Bleu didn’t know whether she should say yes or no. Things weren’t ideal, but Iman wasn’t necessarily treating her wrong. She was doing herself wrong by accepting less than what Iman had originally promised her. Or had he? Did she assume? She was so confused.
“I’m okay,” she answered.
“That ain’t what I asked you but I’ma let it slide,” Noah said. “Take care of yourself, B. Love you.”
“I love you too. Bye.”
He had given her something to think about. Maybe it ain’t too late to go back to UCLA. They don’t know about the drug use. I’m behind, but I can catch up. I’ve done it before. I can do it again, she thought. Bleu knew she needed some type of direction, something to focus on to stop her from focusing on the urge that was growing by the day. She had already developed a thirst for addiction. She had tapped into the generational curse that coursed through her blood. Addiction was in her DNA, but maybe, just maybe, if she found something constructive to become addicted to it would negate her need to get high.
Ding-dong!
The sound of the bell ringing was the only thing that stopped her tears from falling. She sprang to the door, hopeful that Iman had come to check on her after reading her distressed text.
“Surprise, bitch,” Cinco said.
Bleu was like a deer in headlights. Her heart fell into her stomach and she slammed the door only to have Cinco place a foot in the door, stopping her before muscling his way inside.
Bleu backpedaled. “I’ll scream,” she threatened as her chest heaved up and down. It felt like it would cave in on her and she was slightly dizzy as anxiety seized her. Bleu’s eyes scanned the room for something, anything, that she could use to protect herself.
“Relax, Xena, warrior princess. Ain’t nobody gon’ do shit to you.” Cinco chuckled, finding amusement in her fear of him.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Your boy told me to check on you. He’s with my sister. His wife, in case you forgot,” Cinco chortled. He was in rare form. He was angry at the fact that Iman was taking over for Sandoza. The nigga want to be me. He want to be Sandoza’s son. Maybe I should see what’s it’s like to be him tonight … sample some of this pussy he financing, Cinco thought. His mind was maniacal. He couldn’t show how much he hated Iman, not yet at least. When the time was right he would show his hand and make sure that Iman never sat on Sandoza’s throne. Cinco was like a kid with a “mine” complex. If Cinco couldn’t have it, nobody would.
“Why wouldn’t he come himself? It’s been two weeks. He wouldn’t send you,” Bleu defended as she rushed to the couch to call Iman. Cinco didn’t stop her. He was sure that Iman wouldn’t answer.
“What’s wrong, shorty? He ain’t answer? He’s on a trip with Tan,” Cinco informed Bleu.
Bleu gripped her stomach and her knees gave out at the revelation. For some reason she had made herself believe that Iman wasn’t romantically involved with Tan. Is he fucking Tan the way he fucks me? Is he putting his mouth on her body? Is he nuzzling her neck and wrapping his arms around her? The same way he is with me?
Her thoughts drove her crazy as she sat down on the couch, shaking her head back and forth. “It’s supposed to be about business,” she whispered.
Cinco laughed aloud. “That’s what he told you?” Cinco was taunting her, throwing salt in an open wound.
She knew there was no reason to get mad; she had done this to herself. Here she was pretending that she was happy with the way things were. The penthouse apartment with the luxury fixings wasn’t enough to keep Bleu content. Not when she occupied it alone while the man who bought it for her went to sleep next to someone else every night. I’m allowing him to make a fool of me, she thought.
“Shit got you sick, huh?” Cinco said. “He’s not going to leave Tan. They’ve been together for years. It’s the same routine. They love each other, they hate each other, just to do it all over again.”
“Stop,” Bleu whispered.
“Yeah, okay,” Cinco said. He headed toward the door without saying another word, leaving her alone with the seeds of doubt he had planted in her head.
Bleu’s anxiety was at an all-time high. She stormed over to her phone and froze when she noticed the white Baggie that was sitting on the counter. She froze, more fear filled than when Cinco had invaded her space.
He left this here, she thought, panicking as she instantly thought about using it. Her mouth watered as she stood there staring down her demons. It wasn’t her drug of choice, but it would do the job. She had been yearning for this for weeks, the opportunity to get high. There was nobody here to stop her. She was back with Iman, but he wasn’t present. He wasn’t there to stop her.
Bleu picked up the Baggie and opened it. Her eyes were widened in awe as she licked the tip of her pinky finger and stuck it in the bag. She brought her pinky to her mouth and traced the white powder on her gums. They numbed instantly and Bleu closed her eyes, squeezing out a tear. It was cocaine. Not quite as addictive as crack. I can control this, she thought as she emptied the powder onto the countertop. She hurriedly grabbed her handbag and pulled a dollar bill out, rolling it up. She hovered over the dollar bill when Noah’s voice echoed in her mind: Remember who you were before you let that la-la land shit change you.
She stood abruptly and swept the cocaine off the counter, sending it flying all over the floor. Bleu sighed in relief, feeling victorious for the first time. It may have been a small feat, but to her it meant the world. She had said no. “I have to get myself in rehab,” she whispered, realizing for the first time that she needed help. “I can get clean for good and get back in school. I can’t stay here with Iman. I just need to get back to me.”
Knock. knock.
She froze and walked cautiously to the door, this time placing the security chain on it before opening it.
“You get my gift, shorty?” Cinco asked. “I thought you might need a little bit more,” he enticed her as he held up the bag, waving it back and forth.
She quickly closed the door and rested her head against it as she pr
ayed, “God, please. Please, God. I’m not strong enough to say no twice.” Bleu’s stomach growled, but she wasn’t starving for food. Her hunger was for something else. She opened the door and Cinco stood there, leaning against the frame with a devilish smirk on his face.
“Good girl,” he said as he pushed by her. “Now let’s have some fun.”
As soon as Bleu let him in she knew it was a mistake, but he had something she desperately wanted. She wished she was who Noah thought she was, but that girl no longer existed. She was kidding herself to think she could ever go back. Certain things, once done, defined you. She would forever be the pretty girl who smoked dope. The crackhead who used to have a good head on her shoulders. No one would ever respect her. Men like Cinco would always think they could come at her bogus because she would do anything to get high. So what’s the point? she thought. She had wanted the euphoric feeling for weeks now, but Iman had her on a tight leash. The driver he hired would never take her to cop even if she could have gotten her hands on some cash. Getting high with Cinco was her only option. It’s just cocaine. It’s not as bad. I can handle myself, she tried to convince herself.
“You’re too uptight, shorty. Come here,” Cinco said, setting up a line.
“I just need to use the bathroom,” Bleu said.
Cinco pulled a fresh Baggie out of his pant pocket. He tossed it to her. “Get yourself right while you in there,” he said. “Maybe the good-girl act will be gone when you come out. Loosen yo’ ass up.”
Bleu couldn’t make it to her bathroom fast enough. She closed and locked the door behind her, partly for privacy, mostly because she needed refuge from Cinco. Bleu avoided the mirror. She couldn’t look at herself. She didn’t want to face the judgment in her own stare. If only Cinco had gone about his business that night … she would still be clean, but as she set up two fat lines of cocaine she knew that ship had sailed. Gone were her aspirations for anything except the high, and she was settling with the coke. What she really craved came in rock form, but she would take what she could get. Bleu didn’t think to bring a dollar bill into the bathroom, so instead she dived in nose first. She plugged one nostril with her finger and vacuumed up the white in one sniff. The burn was a painful pleasure, and she paused as she waited for the infamous drip. That moment when the cocaine reached the back of her throat was the absolute best, and she closed her eyes as she sniffed and then squeezed her nose tightly. Her nose and throat went numb. The rush hit her and she laughed as she realized how much she had missed it. Why had she ever deprived herself of feeling so great? She opened the door to find Cinco standing on the other side.
“See, I’m not the Big Bad Wolf, shorty,” he said.
“No, you’re still the Big Bad Wolf. I’m just not Little Red Riding Hood anymore,” she countered.
“I like bad girl Bleu so much better,” Cinco complimented her.
“Move, boy,” Bleu said as she pushed past him and walked back into her living room. All of a sudden there was more pep in her step. She had a sudden moxie that she hadn’t previously possessed.
“You know what. I’m done waiting on Iman to come walking through the door. Next time he comes by, I might not be here. I might disappear on him. Let him see what it feels like,” she said, feeling herself as the effects of the cocaine urged her on. She had a false sense of self. Perhaps that was the real reason she liked to be high. It gave her confidence. She said and did things that she wouldn’t have the balls to otherwise.
Bleu walked out onto the balcony. She was fifty stories high, literally and figuratively. She felt like she was flying. “Sometimes I just want to jump,” she said as she stood on the rails. She looked up to the sky wishing that it could all be so simple, but the truth was her ills hadn’t plagued her enough for her to end it all. Bleu was overwhelmed enough to say it but too afraid to do it. She had no follow-through, so instead she was forced to live through the hurt and feel every pain that life threw her way.
She stepped down and went back inside to see Cinco leaned over the counter to snort a line.
“You on this with me or what?” he asked.
It was too late to feel bad now. There was no turning back. She had already messed up. I might as well enjoy it, she thought. She joined him and bent over. She felt him move her hair out of the way as she bent over. He was too touchy-feely for Bleu. She stiffened as she felt him begin to massage her neck. She snorted the line and stood up, easing out of his reach.
“That shit’s official, right?” Cinco asked rhetorically.
“Hm-m,” she agreed with a nod as she licked her dry lips slowly. Her entire mouth was dry, like sandpaper. She could barely swallow, but the side effects were worth the magnificent bliss she was feeling. “The best.”
“You know I can get you right. Whenever you feel like you want a little taste, I got you,” Cinco said. She recognized the look in his eye. The lust. The malice. The animosity. It brewed within him, he could barely hide it from her, and she quickly remembered whom she was dealing with. They weren’t friends. She had tried to kill him. He had raped her. How she had found herself alone in a room with him was beyond her. Her desire to get high had overridden common sense and now she just wanted him gone.
“It’s getting late,” she said as she tried to walk past him. He grabbed her hand, gripped her wrists so tightly that she winced.
“Cinco,” she said nervously.
He looked down at the grip he had on her and eased up. “I’m just saying,” he said as he walked toward her. He advanced and she backed up until she had nowhere to go. “I can hook you up when you need that get right.” He brought his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent while he flipped her hair. She squirmed at his touch. Everything about Cinco made her skin crawl. Flashbacks of him forcing her to her knees in the sands of Mexico hit her and she turned her head. He had taken her body before, forcefully, brutally. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t take that again, but to fight him off would be suicide. He would kill her. “I ain’t got to take it this time. You got something I want and I got something you want. I know cocaine ain’t your thing. You like to suck a glass dick, don’t you?” he asked as he licked the side of her face. “I can get it for you, shorty, but you gon’ pay me with that pussy. I remember how good that shit was.”
Bleu wanted to say no, but what Cinco was offering her was worth more than keeping her morals intact. “You got it with you?” she asked.
Cinco pulled back and reached in his pocket, retrieving a twinkie. Her eyes lit up. Crack was a different monster. Just the sight of it caused her nipples to harden in anticipation.
Bleu knew she would need that high in order to give him what he wanted. She had been so close to saving herself. Instead she was about to sell her soul. In that moment so much hatred filled her. She hated Iman for leaving her vulnerable and alone; she hated her parents for afflicting her with the disease of addiction. It was a generational vice to her family and she was falling victim to it. She hated herself for not being the type to use her background and motivation instead of an excuse, but most of all she hated God for making her life so hard. Why couldn’t she be like the other students she had met on campus with their trust funds and entitled attitudes? She had come from the bottom and because of the choices she had made it didn’t seem like she would ever escape the allure of the streets. Moving across the country hadn’t helped her escape her fate. Bleu snatched the rocks from Cinco’s hand and rushed into the kitchen. She pulled out every drawer in the condo, looking for something, anything, resembling a pipe.
Cinco pulled out a bag of weed and a cigarillo. “Sit down. Relax,” Cinco said as he rolled up. “Give me the shit.”
He laced the weed with the rocks and Bleu shook her head. “I don’t mix it,” she said. She was antsy. Her foot tapped nervously against the floor as she crossed her arms and watched him work.
“You don’t really got a choice now, do you?” Cinco shot back. It was the first time he realized how bad she had it. He ha
d thought her drug use was recreational. All the times he had seen her high, she had been the life of the party. Dancing on tables in clubs until 5:00 a.m. or partying with friends. It had all been social. Everybody in L.A. got lifted. It was a way of life in Hollywood, but the girl he saw in front of him was so desperate to get high. Too desperate. She was a crackhead, and if Cinco had a conscience he would have thought twice about what he was encouraging. He had zero fucks to give, however, and handed her the laced blunt.
“Enjoy,” he said sarcastically.
“You not on this with me?” she asked, trying to pretend as if she didn’t want every single morsel to herself.
“Nah, that’s not my preference. You have fun now and I’ll have fun later,” he said, grabbing himself obnoxiously and reminding her that there was a hefty price to pay for getting high off his supply.
Bleu fired up and within minutes she was in outer space. It felt so damn good. So much pleasure … intense … sinful … unadulterated. Oh shit, she thought. She had forgotten what it did to her. Her clitoris swelled and she felt herself orgasm without any stimulation. If this was the sin that would send her to hell, it was worth it.
Cinco’s manhood hardened at the sight of Bleu. She had forgotten he was even in the room. Cinco was going to keep her high until he was ready to use her to get back at Iman. In her right mind she would never go against Iman, but with Cinco in her ear, slowly filling her with animosity, it would only be a matter of time before she agreed to the plot Cinco was manufacturing.
11
“Bleu!” Iman’s voice carried through the condo as he entered. It was the middle of the day, but nothing moved inside. “You here, ma?” he asked. He walked back to the master bedroom to find the room cloaked in darkness. The blacked-out shades were drawn closed, letting no light inside. The smell of weed permeated the room.
A mixture of worry and fury pulsed through him as he marched over to the drapes and pulled them open. Bleu was sprawled out on the bed, naked, her face peaceful as her chest rose and fell softly with the rhythm of her breathing. His eyes fell on to the ashtray that sat on the nightstand. As soon as he saw the roach inside he gritted his teeth in anger.
A LaLa Land Addiction Page 10