Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

“Sweetheart, it’s not a cult. It’s called cheerleading. She loves that shit.”

  “Well fine for her. But she needs to leave me out of it.” I rinse off my legs and apply some lotion.

  “Fair enough.” He focuses intently on his drawing, rubbing at the page with his finger to smudge the pencil.

  “How many pictures do you have of me in there, anyway?” I ask, as I slide off the bench.

  “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “A few.”

  I move over to him and lean on the back of the couch to look over his shoulder. “Exactly how many is ‘a few’?”

  He just shrugs again and closes his book so I can’t see, sliding his pencil behind his ear as he moves to stand up. He never lets me see what he’s drawing.

  “Oh no. You’re not getting out of it that easy.” Reaching over the back of the couch, I snatch the sketch pad out of his hands. “I’ve been here for months and you’re always drawing in that thing. I want to see it.”

  “Give it back, Paige,” he warns.

  I move around the studio, dodging him as I leaf through the pages.

  “Close it, Paige. That’s private!”

  “Wow, Braden. You’re really good,” I admit. There are drawings of everything in here, from people to animals, trees and vehicles. Basically, whatever has caught his eye, has been recorded in such vivid detail it actually looks real.

  I’m so focused on the drawings I forget to move out of his way. Although, my reactions are quick enough that I tighten my grip on the pages as he pulls on the binding.

  “Give it back.”

  “No. I’m looking. Let go, Braden. You’re going to make me tear it,” I tell him calmly. He narrows his eyes at me and releases his hand. Grinning triumphantly, I continue to leaf through his drawings.

  The visual arts diary he uses is one of those thick bound ones with a hard black cover. More than half of it is filled with his sketches.

  Slowly I flick through all the pages, marvelling at his work. “You can tell when I moved in,” I smile, glancing up at him.

  Suddenly, there are pages and pages of me. Sitting watching television, brushing my hair… “You drew me sleeping?” I ask, turning the book to him and tapping on the paper.

  “I like drawing you. So sue me,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking surly.

  “Well… you’re very talented,” I compliment, as I shut the book and hand it back to his eager hands.

  “You’re not weirded out?” he asks, taking it back and folding his arms over it protectively.

  “Why would I be? I’ve seen you drawing me. I just wanted to see them.”

  “They don’t mean I’m obsessed with you or anything,” he assures me.

  “I know.” I smile. Moving towards him and giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “You just think I’m beautiful.”

  “You’re damn right I do.” He grins back. “Now get that gorgeous arse of yours out there and get me some more stock. I have a delivery to make this afternoon, and we might as well get all the money we can.”

  Once a week, Braden goes out on his own to take all the IDs I’ve managed to get my hands on to whoever it is he sells them to. Our income level varies from week to week, but it’s more money than I’ve ever had. More than enough to get by and procure some entertainment for ourselves on the side.

  During the week, we stay clean because we need to focus. Braden is studying art and design at uni as well as working a few nights at Planetary, and I have purses that require my attention. I need to have my wits about me, or I’ll be caught. That’s the last thing I want.

  “Get moving, woman!” he says as I’m preparing to leave. Saluting him, I finish collecting my things.

  “You want to run interference for me?” I ask as I lace up my shoes. Sometimes Braden comes out and distracts my targets with a question about directions: the time, or whatever else he can come up with.

  “Sure. I’ll help you for a while. Then I can go and get our money.”

  “Good, I want to go shopping for something new to wear this weekend.”

  “Me too. I want to look irresistible this weekend. Did you see that guy I was talking to last Saturday? He said he’d be at Compound this weekend. So that’s where we’re going,” he sing-songs.

  “Yes. I did see that guy. And then I saw him go home with his girlfriend. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree with that one.” I laugh.

  “No. I could tell. Just watch what happens.” He grins, standing at the door, ready to leave.

  Weekends are our party time. It’s when we really let loose and enjoy the fruits of our labour. I haven’t completely given up my old ways. As much as I thought I was sick of sleeping with random guys, I still have a libido. Except now I go home with guys that I actually want to fuck. I can afford to be choosy.

  Braden’s not as bad at picking up as he originally made out, although he’s better at picking up women than men. From the looks of it, I think he’s attracted to straight men which is obviously where his problem finding a man arises from. Sometimes he scores though, and that’s when he’s happiest.

  We have a rule that we don’t bring people back to the studio because it’s not fair to the other person. We always go home with the guy or girl. The studio is just for us.

  Before he met me, Braden was only into ‘chasing the dragon’—as he likes to call it—and speed—which he calls ‘go-ie’. It’s like he can’t call a spade a spade. But I’ve convinced him that coke is far superior to his ‘go-ie’, and after trying it with me, he’s inclined to agree.

  Now we have a ritual. When we get ready to go out, we set up our lines and snort them just before we leave so we’re feeling wonderful by the time we get to the clubs or parties. When we get back to the apartment we smoke heroine to come down. It’s a beautiful combination. I even find myself leaving the beds of the men I go home with so I can get back for a smoke. I’m having trouble coming down without it.

  Twenty-Five

  When Braden gets back from his meeting, he’s in s foul mood. “The boss wants to meet you,” he says as he counts off my money and places it in my hand a little too rough.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know. I was trying to keep you out of the official side of things. But there's a party next weekend. We've been invited."

  “A party? Well that doesn’t sound too scary. What are you worried about?"

  He blows out a breath and runs his hand back and forth through his hair. "I didn't want them to find out about you."

  Taking his hands in mine, I hold them between us and give them a reassuring squeeze. “Well, they have now. I've been around dealers plenty of times. We'll be OK. I'll make a good impression. I promise.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s them.”

  “Are they going to kill me?”

  He rolls his eyes. “No.”

  “Beat me up?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s your worry?”

  He blows out his breath. "Nothing. Let’s just go shopping. I want to buy you a new dress. You need to look super hot for this.”

  “Ah.” I smile. “Now you’ve got me excited.”

  Flicking fiercely through the clothes racks in Myer, he scrutinises a few dresses before shaking his head and putting them back. I hold up a gorgeous looking, royal blue mini dress with a tiny ruffle around the hem that makes it look fun and flirty. “How about this one?”

  “No. That’s no good.” He frowns and goes back to his rummaging. “You need to look gorgeous. Absolutely ravishing. It’s important that we’re really fun and friendly because these people supply our cash and they supply our ‘fun’. We can’t disappoint. Here,” he says, holding up a tiny red sparkling dress.

  I take it and hold it against my body, admiring it in the mirror. It looks like the clothing version of Dorothy’s ruby slippers. I love it.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell his smiling face as we head for the shoes. “I wasn’t aware ou
r buyer and supplier were the same people. What else are they into?”

  “Oh, this and that. It doesn’t really have much to do with me,” he says, taking the dress from my hands. His eyes dart around, and he appears slightly agitated for a moment. “Red or black shoes?”

  “Black,” I say.

  When the night of the party rolls around, I have to admit I look amazing in the dress. I barely have an ounce of fat on me these days, but I still have all my curves, and my hair is almost halfway down my back. I look like the goddess Braden always calls me.

  As we get ready, Braden reiterates the importance of meeting our ‘bosses’. “Sweetheart, I need you to make a good impression. Reggie needs to meet you and if he doesn’t like you, I’ll be in big trouble.”

  “How does he even know about me?”

  “Well, I let it slip that I’m not the sticky-fingered wonder who gets him his merchandise, and he doesn’t like that I wasn’t honest with him. He was very insistent that he needed to meet you before we could go any further.” Braden wipes sweat from his upper lip, causing me to frown. He’s not his usual confident self. He won’t hold my gaze for more than a couple of seconds. What am I about to walk into?

  My heart thuds double-time in my chest and I’m only too happy to sniff some powdered courage before we catch a cab to Double Bay to meet this ‘Reggie’.

  “Holy fucking shit,” I breathe as the cab pulls into the circular drive of the largest house I’ve ever seen. “You actually know someone who lives here?”

  “I don’t know. The boss just told me there was a party and to bring you here,” Braden says.

  “God. How do I even behave in a place like this?” I think I stop breathing as nerves swirl through my stomach.

  Braden squeezes my hand. “It’ll be fun, relax.”

  We pay the cabbie and get out at the security gate. Braden presses the intercom. It beeps a couple of times before it’s answered by a gruff voice, demanding to know who we are.

  Once our identities are confirmed, we’re allowed to move through. We walk up the pathway arm in arm, the sounds of the party growing louder with each step. I pause for a moment, pulling on Braden’s arm.

  “I think I need another hit. I’m too nervous.” I reach in my purse to search for the little snuff bottle I have to top myself up throughout the night.

  “Wait til we get inside,” he says, putting his hand over mine and halting my movement. “I swear to you, there will be the purest shit you have ever tried inside. You’ll be flying all night.” My nerves turn to excitement as I wonder what a pure high would be like.

  I hang my bag back over my shoulder, and we continue up the path. The driveway is littered with parked cars, and we can hear music and laughter going on inside as we approach the door.

  “Are we late?” I ask as Braden raises his hand to knock.

  The door opens immediately, and a man with dark, stylishly messy hair, opens his arms wide and welcomes us enthusiastically. He appears to be well into his thirties and has straight, perfectly even teeth and bronzed skin.

  “Come in,” he booms, taking my hand and bringing it to his mouth. “Braden, I can see why you were hiding her.” He smiles, his eyes locked with mine as he presses his lips to my knuckles.

  “Can you blame me?” Braden laughs uneasily. I can hear a slight tinge of nervousness in his voice as he introduces us. “Paige, this is Reggie. Reggie, meet Paige.”

  I nod and smile, but I find him unsettling. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me and then at Braden that makes me concerned. It’s like they know something I don’t. He tucks my hand in the crook of his arm and walks me inside. Braden makes sure to keep pace with us.

  “This is quite a party,” I comment, trying to make casual conversation as I look around at all the people gathered in the large foyer and living area.

  The house is modern in styling and lit as though it’s a night club. Everything is either white, chrome or mirrored, and the lights that flash are a red or a purple. It feels surreal as it is, but when a strobe light goes off, it’s even more so.

  Reggie walks us towards a bar and tells us to choose anything we’d like before excusing himself to go and mingle. I’m grateful when he’s gone because his hand lingered a little too long on my skin, making a cold chill skitter up my spine. He’s creepy.

  Looking around the party, I see there aren’t many people holding drinks. But they’re all on something.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.

  Braden has been to these things in the past, so he answers before I have a chance to open my mouth.

  “Coke,” he says, holding two fingers up to let him know it’s for both of us.

  The barman hands us a dish that has everything we need on top of it. “First one’s free,” he tells us. His voice flat and impassive. He’s obviously been saying the same thing all night.

  We move to the side, and I lean into Braden. “What is this?”

  “A tasting party.”

  “Tasting party?”

  “Yep. Pick your drug, but don’t mix it. ODs aren’t tolerated.”

  “What do they do if you OD?”

  “I have no idea. I just know that no one ever sees you again.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe. I’m starting to feel as though I’m in this a little too deep. I had been looking at what we were doing as a bit of petty theft. I had no idea we were involved with major dealers. This is all a bit above my experience level.

  “Relax. Reggie seems to like you. Just have a good time, and we’ll be fine.”

  I nod, but I’m not sure that I can relax.

  “Do you want a downer instead?”

  “No. Coke’s fine.”

  “Well, sniff up, sweetheart. Let the party begin.”

  The high hits me faster than our usual stuff does. It’s almost as good as the first time I did it, back when I was with Jeff.

  “Oh wow,” I say to Braden, who’s watching me, nodding and smiling.

  “It’s great, right?”

  “Amazing,” I say rolling my head around as I’m sent soaring.

  When I move through the crowd, I feel so much lighter on my feet. Braden introduces me to a few people he knows but ultimately, we end up dancing alone.

  Due to my high, every move of my hips is erotic, and I feel like I can have anyone and anything. Braden’s hands are moving over my body, every touch feels amazing as my senses come to life.

  His hand wanders down my thigh and up under my dress. He clutches at my buttocks and pulls me up against him. We’re pressed as close as we can, swaying as one as we stare into each other’s eyes. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I can’t help but lick them. I want him to kiss me.

  The moment our lips brush, Reggie appears at our side, pulling on Braden’s shoulder to separate us. He glares at him, then indicates he wants me to follow him. Without waiting, he places his arm around my waist and pulls me beside him. I grab hold of Braden’s hand so I don’t lose him. I don’t know that I want to be alone with Reggie.

  We enter another room. It's some sort of an office, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. This room has more of an old world feel to it, with a large wooden desk and plush carpeting. I feel my heeled feet sink into the pile and wish I could take my shoes off to feel the thickness between my toes.

  Reggie sits us all on a couch that's such a dark red it almost appears black.

  “Braden tells me you’re the one procuring the IDs.”

  “I am,” I confirm.

  “You seem good at what you do, Paige. But, I wasn’t aware you were working for me. You need my approval to work for me.” He smiles and crosses his legs. “This is quite an embarrassing situation. Braden altered his role within my organisation without fully consulting me. It wasn’t until I asked about the increase in stolen IDs, that I found out what he was doing, and of course about you. Braden made quite an error bringing you on without consulting me.”

  “He did?”

&nbs
p; Braden sits on the side chair with his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward and watches us carefully. He looks uncomfortable. Anxious. I feel the same way.

  “I have to be honest. You wouldn’t be my first choice for what you’re doing. You’re far too… striking. Too memorable. I’m surprised no one has spotted or reported you yet.”

  “Like you said, I’m good at what I do.”

  “I’m sure you’re good at… a great many things.” His eyes slide over my body as if he’s licking me with them. My eyes flick towards Braden who’s bouncing his leg in agitation.

  “Thank you,” I say, almost in question. I’m not quite sure how to respond.

  “Braden? Don’t you think Paige is too beautiful to be a purse snatcher?”

  “Of course I do, Reggie,” he mumbles, rubbing his hands over his neck and face. I don’t know if it’s the drugs affecting him or if there’s something really wrong going on here.

  “Then why do you have her doing it?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be your delivery guy anymore.”

  “You didn’t ask to change jobs. I expect you to resume your usual role immediately. My stock is low.”

  Braden’s face drops and he freezes, causing panic to rise up inside me. What’s going on?

  “But…” Braden starts.

  “Have her brought to me on Monday—I’m busy tomorrow—and Braden, I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if you don’t.” He gives Braden a pointed look before he stands up and claps his hands. “Well, thank you for coming to see me. I’ll let the bar know you can have one more round on me. Enjoy the party, and I’ll see you both Monday.”

  He walks out and leaves Braden and me on our own.

  “What’s going on Braden? What does he want me for?”

  Braden runs his hands over his head and completely messes up his previously perfect hair. My eyes grow wide as I watch him lean back in his chair and look up at the ceiling while he blows out his breath.

  “Braden!” He’s making me even more nervous than I already was.

  “He wants you to be one of his girls,” he mumbles.

  “His girls?”

  Braden nods. “I’m sorry.”