by L A Cotton
“Dad said I was a disgrace to the family, Mom cried, and Mikey, well, I made him promise to look out for Joy until she left for college.” Mikey winced, but he had made good on his promise, I was sure of that. I wish I’d known she had never left. I’d have been home a hell of a lot sooner, regardless of my father.
“And Donnie.”
“I never heard from him again.” I shrugged; he wasn’t the same guy I had known anyway, but it still stung.
“That’s why you reacted the way you did at the funeral?”
“Yeah.” I sat back and watched him, waited for his verdict.
“What do you think he’s involved in?” Lex asked.
“Extortion racket, at least. I saw two of his heavies at Hank’s, and he handed over a wad of cash. Hank said he took over from his uncle.”
“Yeah,” Mikey muttered.
“What do you know?” Lex turned his attention in Mikey’s direction.
“Rumor is he controls all the drugs in and out of Chancing.”
“Seriously?” The irony isn’t lost on me. Hank had said as much, too, but I couldn’t get my head around Donnie taking the reins. He’d never wanted anything to do with his uncle when we were younger.
“Of course, it’s big bucks. By all accounts, he got rid of the competition and paid off local law enforcement to turn a blind eye.” Mikey raised both eyebrows, and we got the message. “You don’t want to cross Donnie DeLuca.”
“How are we going to get to Joy?” Lex asked.
“I don’t know. Mikey?” Something shifted in his gaze, and he looked a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t telling me something.
“Get her away from Donnie.” He grunted and pushed up from his chair. “Don’t go making this worse, little brother.” He glowered at us both before heading for the kitchen. But paused at the doorway. “Do you still love her?” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, even though I wouldn’t lie about something like this.
“Yes.” I looked him square in the eye. I could never not love her.
Satisfied with my answer, he retreated into the kitchen and I heard the clatter of dishes in the sink before the back door opened and banged shut.
“Looks like we’re staying.” Lex pushed off the sofa with his laptop. “I’ll do some digging on DeLuca, but Dawson …” The seriousness of his tone made me look up. “Don’t make this personal. We need to keep a low profile. Personal gets messy.” I nodded and bit back my retort because he was right. This was his family’s business; I didn’t want to fuck that up by getting us all involved in a personal vendetta against Donnie. Lex winked at me before disappearing up the stairs, leaving me alone with only one thing on my mind.
Joy.
I had protected her before, and I would do it time and time again.
Only, this time, I would save her.
I dropped the concealer into the sink and laid my palms flat on the counter. It was no use. Even after two days, the deep purple and blue bruise marring the skin around my left eye wasn’t going away. Not with all the makeup in the world. Eyes squeezed shut, I breathed through the discomfort. It felt like my bone was shattered. Hot, fiery pain seeped out in a dull ache across my cheek. I knew it wasn’t; it was just tender from the impact. Bone on bone. But there was no way I could risk going to the diner. Betty said she would cover for me—again—but not before reminding me that Hank already had it out for me.
The people in Chancing might have turned a blind eye to most things, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t talk, and I couldn’t stand the thought of serving customers all day with their stares of pity and disapproval. And if Dawson turned up again and saw my face … no, I couldn’t go there.
Dawson.
When I had finally come around, Donnie punished my body. Over and over, clawing, biting, pinching, grabbing. I let myself shut down—as much as I could—and I went to a happier place. A time when my life wasn’t falling apart at the seams. A time when I thought I had so much to look forward to.
Tears trickled down my face, and I took a deep breath, forcing out the memories, before opening my eyes and facing my reality. My stomach lurched at the ugly sight staring back at me. I had to get out of here, but where would I go? To Sherri’s? She’d be itching for a fight with Donnie when she laid eyes on my face, and that wouldn’t do either of us any good. The hollow pit in my stomach started to fill with something else.
Craving … Need.
I left the small bathroom and rushed to the kitchen, yanking open the cupboard in search of something strong. Vodka, whiskey, tequila—it didn’t matter as long as it would take the edge off the hunger burning through me. My hand found the first bottle and pulled it down. Unscrewing the lid, I brought the rim to my lips and tipped it back. Heat exploded in my mouth burning down my throat and into my stomach. My gag reflex worked overtime, but I shut it down, clamping my lips tight to force down the alcohol.
Half a bottle later, the room was spinning. Slumped against the counter, on the cold linoleum, I could no longer feel the searing pain. The hunger, however, was still there, just beneath the surface like an ugly disease trying to claw its way out. My cell phone vibrated again, the seventh or eighth time in the last hour. It was probably Hank … or Donnie … or Mikey. No, it wouldn’t be Donnie. He’d taken what he wanted from me. Which left Hank or Mikey, and neither of them lifted my spirits. But with tingling fingers, I reached across the floor and dragged the phone closer, squinting to see the screen.
Is everything okay?
Just seeing Mikey’s name caused bile to rise up. I clutched my stomach and jumped to my feet, the half-empty bottle of vodka swinging in my hand, and rushed into the bathroom. I made in onto my knees just in time for the rush of acid to spew out into the bowl. My eyes watered and I squeezed them shut as I fumbled to flush. Everything was so far beyond okay I didn’t know who I was anymore.
My phone buzzed again and I groaned still able to taste the vomit in my mouth.
Joy …
Mikey sure was persistent. I didn’t check in with him daily, but if he went more than a couple of days without hearing from me, I would get a text or a call. It had only been three days since I saw them at Shakers, but after everything that happened, it was no surprise Mikey was worried. Unless … no, that couldn’t be it. Dawson wasn’t back for me; he was back to bury his mom. But the look in his eyes when he’d realized I was with Donnie, the confusion … anger.
Don’t go there.
My body ached as I hauled myself up, ignoring my cell phone, and rinsed my face and brushed my teeth. The effects of the alcohol were wearing off too quickly. I could feel. Too much. The shame, regret, and disgust all coiled in my stomach, heavy and suffocating. As I stared at the unrecognizable girl in the mirror, clutching the bottle of liquor like it was her lifeline, something caught my eye in the wall-mounted unit. The door had fallen off its hinges slightly and didn’t shut fully.
No!
Yes.
I surrendered the bottle and plucked the corner of the clear baggie. It slipped through the gap in the door and the shelf. The contents looked so harmless, insignificant. The tiny pills erased any second thoughts about how the bag had ended up in my apartment. Donnie didn’t allow me to keep my own stash—not that I wanted it—and I wasn’t stupid enough to stockpile any behind his back. Deep down, I hated it, hated everything about it. But somewhere along the line, I’d come to crave the high.
The escape.
Ironic, really, that the thing that landed Dawson in prison—the thing that had ruined us—was now the one thing I turned to for comfort. Except you didn’t turn to it, it lured you in. Seductive and lethal.
My fingers hovered over the opening, trembling. Somewhere behind me, my phone vibrated again, and I clamped my eyes shut trying to even out my breathing.
You don’t have to do this. I didn’t, I really didn’t. I had this under control. It didn’t own me, not yet. Not completely. Donnie made sure of that. He kept me on a short leash and only allowed me to indulge w
hen it suited him. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I was still functioning, still leading some life of normalcy. Because he hadn’t allowed me to become an addict. Not like some of the girls at that club who couldn’t dance unless they were strung out. Weed, sure. I had access to an endless supply, but anything stronger—pills, coke, even ice—only came out when Donnie wanted it to. But lately, the cravings were more.
Sickening.
Sometimes, the sheer force of them would take my breath away. So I’d light up a joint or hit the vodka. Anything to take off the edge. And, up until recently, it worked. I only got fucked up when I was with Donnie, and I kept telling myself I was in control.
I wasn’t an addict.
I wasn’t.
I needed to be out of it to survive Donnie, to be around him, to let him touch me.
So why was part of me yearning for the contents of the bag? It called to me. Just one hit and it all goes away. But it didn’t. Because when the high faded, the world crashed down around you leaving you wrecked.
My fingers smoothed over the baggie. I wanted to forget: the pain, the bruise, the flash of regret in Dawson’s eyes when I moved to Donnie’s side. I wanted to forget it all. Just for a little while. That was all I ever wanted.
To forget.
Six months.
I’d grieved for six whole months. First Dawson, then Grams. Dreams of a brighter future—college, my only ticket out of Chancing—all ripped from under me with one single letter, the letter that informed me I hadn’t received a full scholarship. In six months, my life had done a complete one-eighty, and now, here I was—stuck in Chancing sleeping on couches with no hope of ever getting out.
“Mornin’ darl.” Sherri breezed into the room like everything was sunshine and roses.
“Morning.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and forced myself to sit up. “Sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep.”
I hadn’t planned to stay here again, but it wasn’t as if I had anywhere else to go. There was Mikey’s and Donnie’s, but I was around Mikey’s far too often, and Donnie, well, Don had changed lately, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet.
“I already told you, the couch is yours as long as you need it.” Sherri looked like she wanted to say something else but obviously thought better of it, smiling and walking into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Coffee would be great.” I joined her in the kitchen and sat at one of the stools. “Thanks, Sherri. I appreciate it. I’ll be out of your hair soon. I promise.”
Sherri set down the mug in her hand and turned to me. “You’ve been through a rough few months. I know that and I meant what I said. The couch is yours, but maybe it’s time to come up with a plan. You have your whole life ahead of you, darlin’.”
I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that tumbled out. Sherri’s brow arched up, but I ignored her questioning look as my cell started vibrating from my pocket. Retrieving it, I glanced at the screen and frowned.
“Donnie again?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “He wants me to go to a party tonight.”
He’d been asking me for weeks to go out with him. Getting out would do me good, he’d said.
“I know he’s been a good friend, but be careful with that one, Joy.”
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. I knew. Better than anyone, I knew that Donnie DeLuca was transforming in front of my eyes. The quiet, goofy guy who followed Dawson and me around in high school was gone. He’d bulked up, was hanging around with a new crowd, and no longer seemed ashamed of his family’s connections. In fact, he seemed to be proud of his name all of a sudden, and it unnerved me.
“He’s been there for me.”
He had. After everything with Dawson and Grams, Donnie had stepped up and been there. I didn’t have many friends in Chancing, not after spending most of junior and senior year with Dawson and Donnie, and the few friends I did have had all left for college.
Sherri rounded the counter and laid her hand on top of mine. “Just be careful, girl.” With that, she said good-bye and told me again I was welcome to stay as long as I needed. But something she’d said earlier lingered with me. I did need a plan. After six months of moving from couch to couch, day to day, I needed to start living again. Somehow, some way, I needed to find my way back to myself.
“Joy, you came.” Donnie’s face lit up as I dug my hands into my jean pockets and bounced nervously on the balls of my feet.
“Yeah. Although now that I’m here, I’m not sure I can go in there.” I nodded over at the house. Cars lined the curb. Music spilled out of the open door, people drinking out of Solo cups and smoking joints huddled together laughing and joking.
Yeah, I definitely didn’t belong here.
Donnie came up to me and nudged me with a smile. “Come on, it’ll do you good. Relax. Try and remember what it’s like to be nineteen.”
“Yeah. Okay, but no drinks. I’m staying at Mikey’s tonight.”
Something flashed in Donnie’s eyes, but he shot me another smile and laughed. “Always so cautious. It’s just some of the guys getting high and letting loose.”
I wanted to ask since when getting high was Donnie’s scene. He’d always hated drugs. Avoided anything to do with them. But I didn’t. Instead, I followed him inside ducking my head.
“Yo, DeLuca.” A dark-haired guy came up to us. He flicked his head at me. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Joy. She’s cool.”
Something passed between them. Something I didn’t understand. The guy gave me the once-over and my skin crawled. Inside, I was freaking out, so much so that I almost missed Donnie moving closer to me and wrapping an arm around my waist.
His touch felt unfamiliar. Strange. But it was better than the look his friend was giving me so I remained still.
“Come on, let’s get a drink. Catch you later, Jerome.”
Donnie led us into a small kitchen, crowded with bodies. Beer, smoke, and sweat filled my lungs causing my nose to scrunch.
“Soda? Beer?”
“No alcohol, Don,” I reminded him.
“One beer won’t do any harm.”
“I said no.”
“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up and grinned. “I’ll drink yours.”
Some of the tension that had wrapped around me when I first arrived at the party melted away. Donnie might have been changing, but at times like this, when he was goofing around, he reminded me of the old Donnie. The guy who never failed to make me smile. There’d been a time when he was my best friend. But since Dawson, things were different.
Everything was different.
An hour later, I still felt out of place, but watching Donnie work the room—talking and laughing with his friends—warmed my heart. He’d struggled in high school; he wasn’t the outgoing, confident guy in front of me now. How had he done it? How had he found himself?
Dawson didn’t just leave me; he left Donnie too. But whereas I’d fallen apart in Dawson’s absence, Donnie had somehow thrived. Part of me envied him. As we moved from room to room, one thing was apparent: People all wanted a piece of Donnie DeLuca. But I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed.
“You look bored as fuck, Joy.” Donnie approached me a huge grin still plastered on his face.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t think I can’t see behind your lies.” He held out his hand and I took it, letting him pull me up. “Come on.”
Donnie led me out a door and into the backyard. There was a patio with some worn garden chairs and a lawn that needed mowing.
“I miss him too, you know.”
“I know you do,” I said staring out into the darkness trying to swallow back the tears building. “I just want to forget. Just for a little while.”
A warm hand covered my own, and Donnie pressed something into my hand.
“Wha- what is this?” I asked eyeing the clear baggie of pills.
“Something to help you forget.”
“You’re
offering me pills? After everything, after they ruined everything?” My voice came out shrill.
“Joy, it helps take away the pain. Makes you feel alive. Don’t you want to feel alive? Just for a little while?”
I stared at my friend with wide eyes. Donnie hated drugs, hated them, but it shouldn’t really come as a shock considering his new friends and the rumors around town that he was finally stepping up and taking his place in the family business.
“Shit, sorry, this was a bad idea.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I just thought, thought you might want to get high and forget for a while.” Donnie started to tug the bag out of my hand, but I clamped my fist tight.
“Wait …”
“Yeah?”
“What will it feel like?” I whispered, hardly believing I was actually asking.
Donnie smirked, and suddenly, I regretted my words, but I couldn’t deny a part of me was curious. I’d hurt for so long I wanted to feel. Something. Anything.
“Baby, it’ll be the best damn feeling in the world.” Donnie slid the bag out of my grip and took out two small white pills, opened his mouth, and dropped them onto his tongue before taking out two more and holding them out in front of me.
Seven months ago, I would have slapped his hand away and asked him what in the hell he thought he was playing at. I wasn’t that girl.
Was I?
I didn’t know anything anymore. But Donnie was right; I just wanted to forget. To lose myself in something other than my plight. Slowly, my mouth opened, and I wet my lips with my tongue. Donnie’s eyes lit up, and he inched the pills closer. I closed my eyes and waited.