High Class Harlot (Switching Tracks Series Book 2)

by Delia Steele

  I head back to my room to rest, happy knowing how close I am to really being OK.

  As I lie here staring at the ceiling, I can’t help but smirk when Bruno starts his slow hum over the sound waves. I think about Rory and our year in high school together. We never had the same interest in music, clothes, boys, or anything. She loved everything old except Justin—thank a big pink penis she outgrew that one—where I loved everything new, pop, and flash—except Justin! The only thing we had in common was Bruno ‘Out-of-this-World’ Mars. She loved his voice and beats; I loved his lyrics and his…well, him. We agreed to share him, and every time we heard him, we went hardcore fangirl. I still adore him, and honestly, I wouldn’t mind pounding him in the sack like a wild silverback. However, I love the memory he triggers more. Every time I needed a friend, Rory was there with her Bruno CD. Every time I cried, we curled up and supported each other to that CD. And when I was happy and wanted to dance and laugh, Rory was there, and as always, she had that CD. She is embedded in as many memories as Clay. No matter how much my mind has tried to cast her aside, my heart refuses to let her go.

  The sad days are rare now. It’s nice to wake up and feel good. I hadn’t realized how bad I had gotten. That’s the thing with any addiction. It starts out small and unnoticeable, and by the time it’s controlling your life, you’re so lost you don’t notice or care. It consumes you, changes you, and destroys you from the inside out. It tries to take everyone around you down with it, too. Addiction doesn’t happen overnight, and I didn’t expect getting better to happen that quickly either, but over the course of rehab, I have cleared the haze. I see things lucidly. I notice things I would normally miss, and I am aware of things and people around me. I’m aware of feelings. The realization has me sitting straight up in the bed. “Oh, my Gonads! I can feel again!” I jump off the bed and start dancing around in tiny circles, thrusting from side to side and smiling, squealing in the moment. “I care about how people feel!” I squeal as I run down the hall, not caring that people are watching me like I’ve lost my mind. I run outside to the terrace and fall down on the concrete, aware of those around me. “It’s amazing that I care again. I actually care about my friend. I love her, and I want to love her, not hate her,” I say, staring at the fluffy clouds passing overhead.

  “Are you OK, Miss Riaz?” I tilt my head back and see an upside-down orderly eyeing me cautiously.

  “I am perfect. I feel again. I think I just had the biggest breakthrough of my life!” I smile at him, and he smiles back.

  “OK, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t about to relapse or freak out.” I shake my head side to side.

  “Nope, neither. I just realized I actually care about people again, and that’s amazing! I haven’t cared in so long. I want a margar…I WANT A MILKSHAKE!” I cringe and look up at the orderly again. “Sorry. Habit.” He shakes his head and smiles.

  “It’s OK. I get it. Besides, you can want one all you want. It’s whether or not you go get one that matters.” And with that, he walks away. I know without a shadow of a doubt I won’t be going after one. I may drink again one day, but it won’t ever be until I know I can control it, and will never be at the expense of the ones I love. I’m a survivor. #winning

  I return to my room feeling great. I care about Rory’s feelings, and it’s time to read her letter. It’s time to bask in my happiness. I take the letter out and walk back outside to the veranda. No matter what this letter says, I can handle it today. I feel strong and confident. It’s time to start preparing for what’s waiting for me outside these walls.

  Dear Amandolette,

  I am so glad you did this. I don’t think I could’ve watched you continue to live the way you were living anymore. You deserve better.

  You can do this. You got this!

  Don’t play dumb—we both know you aren’t. Looking back, I may have noticed you always had the issue in high school, and I thought it got worse over college. I made the mistake of brushing it off, and for that, I am sorry. I know it follows you around and whispers in your ear and makes you feel vulnerable. I know you’re afraid you might fail, and I know you’re afraid to be honest with yourself and with your family and friends. I know you’re afraid, but you know what? Fuck that. (Speaking of fucking, I am sure you’re hornier than a unicorn right now!) This is your life, not theirs and not ours. You only get one shot to be happy. One shot to live. One shot to be the person you want to be. Stop thinking about it and psyching yourself out. I believe in you, and you should, too!

  I promise you won’t fail if you just keep trying. It’s going to be difficult, but when you finish and come out on the other side, you will be much stronger because of it. Stop being so damned scared of yourself and choosing to deny yourself what you know in your heart is meant for you. Trust me, what you want…he wants too. He needs you, and he is dying without you.

  I mean, what’s the point if you live the rest of your life in fear and doubt? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of actually living your life? I’m talking REALLY living your life. Not the life society says you should have; but the life you know YOU want.

  I know you're scared. Hell, Mando, I’m scared for you. I feel the same way so often it’s scary. Even now, if I lost my family, I would go crazy. There is no such thing as security. However, if you want things to change, then you have to stop thinking so much and grab life by the nuts in that oh-so-Mandomania way only you can! Your whole life has led you to this point, and now it’s time to make a decision.

  I suggest you take a chance on yourself. Step up the faith in yourself. Demand better for yourself! Be completely honest with yourself! Moreover, take what’s yours! Because you deserve him, and he deserves you, and you both deserve to be happy. With each other.

  So what if your father was a drug dealer? So what if others don’t understand or agree? So what if everyone talks about you? You never had any control over that stuff to begin with. People disagree with you, talk about you, and judge you already, so you might as well give them something to really talk about, right?

  People fear what they don’t understand, and they will never understand you. They’ll try to tell you that you can’t do something because they’re too scared to do it themselves. Don’t let anyone else’s insecurities and ignorances become yours.

  Love who you are, embrace yourself, and let Clay do the same. Let all of us.

  You are beautiful inside and out, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. You are valid. You deserve to be happy. We both know this lifestyle is keeping you unhappy. I know it’s what you’ve grown accustomed to. I know it feels safe and secure. But you are not happy living this way. You’re quietly killing yourself while trying to hide so much from all of us. However, you’re not fooling yourself or me anymore.

  I am so glad you are taking the steps to better yourself and that you know, in the depths of your heart, that you deserve better for yourself. I know you may feel like I don’t understand what you’ve been through, or it’s not that easy to just change, but it really is. Making a choice is the simplest, yet most difficult thing in the world, and by going to treatment, you are proving you’re strong enough to choose. There is so much life-changing power in making a choice. You have that power. And you’re shooting it from your fingertips. You are no longer a Jedi, young one, but now a Master. ;) Sorry, I had to!!!

  I know you may not believe this, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart: I love you, and I believe in you. I want to see you be happy. I want to see you. I mean, really see you. Not the you you’ve pretended to be all these years for everyone else, but YOU, the you that’s beautiful and foul-mouthed in a fun, light, glitterific way.

  You need to stop assuming we can’t handle your problems with you. I know how you are about proving people wrong, so here is my challenge to you:

  Come home and live.

  Be happy for you.

  AND give me back my best friend, damn it! The one who doesn’t hate me for being cooler than her.

&n
bsp; I DARE YOU!!!!

  I read somewhere that ‘Silence is the incubator of fear.’ You tell me—Is it?

  Stop dwelling on rejection and heartbreak. And if it happens, use it to grow stronger. Forge yourself into something undeniable! And, damn it, Mando, if you need me, just ask! I’m always going to be here for you. There’s not a problem in the world you can go through that someone, somewhere hasn’t already survived to tell the tale. I know it will be difficult (because it WILL be difficult), and you may feel like giving up.

  Don’t. Carry on. Be unbreakable. Be you—the brown-eyed brown bitch!!

  I love you, I believe in you, and I’m right here cheering you on. Own your beauty, be resolved, and share it with the world. You’re beautiful, amazing, and crazy wild with life. Again…I love you.

  ~Rory Tate

  P.S. Clay says he loves you. (He said this while curled into a little ball on my sofa, pouting. Lol!)

  P.P.S. Hurry home, please! I’m sure you didn’t read this when it arrived, so I will see you soon, you strong, wild, sexy bitch!!!

  I wipe away tear after tear as I read. The fact she knew I wouldn’t read it the first day it came proves she really knows me and that I should’ve known to not wait. She only wrote what I needed to hear. I’ve sat here day-in and day-out wondering if they even missed me or thought about me, and this letter proves that they have. I have every intention of going home to them, not Monroe Falls. I won’t subject myself to that life again. Even if Balt is still gone and will be for a long time, I can’t go back. I need my friends, and I need Clay.

  Today is my last session with Dr. Campbell. Tomorrow, I go home.

  “Don’t ask me how I feel,” I say, smiling. “I feel fantastic, I look fantastic, and tomorrow, I go home to a loving environment with the fantastic people who matter most to me.” I can’t stop smiling. I feel so good. “I mean, I cannot get over how good I feel. I don’t even want a drink. I do want some real food, though. Man, when I get my hands on a big ole, fat, juicy taco, I will be straight as a damn…hard-on!” I giggle as I watch Dr. Campbell scribble on her notepad. I may not be angry anymore, but I am still me. I won’t fake it and run around here like some twatwhistle. I have to shine bright like a… “Dude, I need to fix something,” I say, grabbing my pants and unbuttoning them.

  “Woah, girl, you wait and do that at home.” She puts her hands over her eyes, laughing.

  “No, you crazy! I need to fix this. NOW!” I say, pointing to the broken diamond below my hip.

  “OK! Let’s do it. I can take you. I want you whole, and if that’s the last shard, I see it as my job to fix what is broken. Literally!” I jump around, shadow boxing and smiling.

  “This is it! Once I have this fixed, no looking back!” Dr. Campbell goes to pull her purse out of her desk drawer, but I stop her.

  “Before we go, I need you to look at my notebook. I wrote you a session ender. It is our thing after all.” I hand her the notebook, and she flips it open to my last entry.

  #youreaquack

  #GoMightyDucks

  #QuackQuackQuackQuack

  #thankyou

  She smiles and writes back, #yourewelcome #cakeeater.

  Man, I heart this chick.

  We leave like it’s a normal day and drive to the closest tattoo shop in her dorky little four-door sedan. She seems happy to do this for me. She is, by far, the best doctor ever, and I know, without a doubt, she will always be a phone call away if I ever need her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’m going home.

  Honestly, I’m grateful Rory is the one who came for me. I don’t think I could’ve walked out knowing Clay was waiting for me. Yes, I look more like me than I have in years, and yes, I feel more like myself, but I’m not quite ready for him yet. I’ve righted things with my mother and Gran via e-mails and phone calls, and if Clay has waited for me, I will right things with him. But right now, I need to right the wrongs with Rory. She was and has always been my rock. She is my sister and didn’t deserve any of the things I did or said to her. I never treated Clay like I did Rory. I never resented him for being the amazing person he is like I did her. We tend to hurt worst those whom we love most. We tend to push our friends away when a new love interest presents itself. I did that. Except it was alcohol that was my newest love. Clay wouldn’t stand for me pushing Rory away, which caused many fights between us. He loves Rome like the brother he never had, and in turn, he loves Rory the same—like the sister he lost. I pushed him away in so many ways. It’s time I fix this for him, for her, but most of all, for me. It’s time I stop hurting myself, stop hiding behind my walls, and open up to the life I deserve to live. Taking a deep breath, I run my hands down my shredded skinny jeans, shake my arms to slip my loose shredded top back into place, and shift my neck side to side.

  “You want me to go with you?” I turn and look at Dr. Campbell.

  “No. I can do it. It’s time I do it.” I feel the feather dangling from my earring tickle my neck, and I smile. No more suits and preppy business attire. It isn’t me. I may be an adult by typical standards, but I am me. No more conforming to society. When I take my first step towards the door, knowing Rory is on the other side, I stop again. My heels clank hard, and they shine. I can’t believe the awesome shoes I got last night! Dr. Campbell is a freaky little secret, a hoochie in professional clothing!

  “Thank you for the shoes,” I say to her. “I love that when I look down, they’re just shimmering away, reminding me to keep my sparkle and not let others dull me.” She smiles back and nods in agreement.

  “Amandolette, we’ve all had darker days. Those shoes were mine. I had to do what was necessary to pay my way through school for this degree. I don’t regret it. Not ever. It was that time of my life that led me here. Just remember, from even the largest of mistake, the greatest joy can come. Remember that, and you will make it just fine.” She smiles the biggest finale smile and flips a shiny green sobriety token at me.

  “We don’t get these here,” I say to her.

  “Right, but I want you to remember why we don’t use them. So keep it with you always, and if you need to talk, CALL ME!” She turns to walk away, but then she stops and looks over her shoulder at me. “We don’t all use the same programs to get clean.” She winks as I shove the shiny token in my pocket, rub it, and smile again. Did she just tell me, in not so many words, she also fought alcoholism, or maybe some other addiction? She is my proof that I can stay strong. I have on my big girl panties and my shit stomping shoes, and I am going to be just fine. #badassbitch #stompingaddictionsass

  As the door swings open, I see my beautiful friend across the room—her long red hair swirled around her head and those big freaky eyes taking everything in. I love this girl. She doesn’t see me yet; she’s watching the waves out the window of our common room. I know the view. I’ve watched it many times over the last ninety days. The vastness of the open ocean…it’s kind of like a dark soul: deep and mysterious, ready for you to ride it hard and enjoy, silently waiting to suck you in so deep you’re never found by anyone or anything. The ocean is calm on the surface, yet full of lurking monsters—just the same as our souls. Swim or be swallowed.

  Rory has her arms draped over one another and is leaning on the wall, but as my heels clank on the tile, she turns, watching me stroll towards her. When she sees the smile I’m sporting, she adopts the same one.

  “Look at you!” she squeals.

  “I know right! I clean up nice. I mean, who knew this hotness lurked under those craptastic suits I had adopted.” She pulls me in and wraps me in her embrace. “It’s hard to look good when you don’t love yourself, but I am fixing that,” I tell her. “And I am so aware of how smoking hot my brown ass looks right now. Even gained a few pounds.” I squeeze her tight.

  “Oh, Mando, we’ve missed you so much!” And another squeeze. Staying true to myself, I start hunching her leg like a horny little lap pup.

  “Stop it, you nut!” She shoves me, and we start
laughing.

  “Well, I would have gotten a little nut had you not stopped me,” I fake pout. The smile she rewards me with is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in a long time.

  “Come on. Let’s go home. It’s a long drive,” she says, watching me.

  “Did those drug-loving, turd pilots in white pants and polos load my bags into your car yet?” I ask her as we head out the door. It’s funny… though I wasn’t kept against my will, I feel free for the first time. #freeatlast

  As I slide into Rory’s black truck, I hear a throat clear. I look over at Dr. Campbell, and she smiles and waves. I know I have a long road to travel, but now, it won’t be alone. Smiling, I tell Rory, “Let’s get home, hooker.”

  About two hours into the drive, things turn serious. No more laughing and smiling, no more singing to stupid music, no more dancing in our seats like kids. We have things to talk out.

  “If Clay isn’t OK with me being around, are you sure it’ll be OK for me to stay with you guys?” I ask, looking over at Rory as she watches the road.

  “Absolutely! You needed me, Amandolette, and I failed you. It won’t happen again. It can’t.” She doesn’t look over at me, and she doesn’t give me any inkling as to how Clay’s reacted to me refusing to correspond with him.

  “I didn’t refuse him; I just wanted to be worthy of him,” I say softly as I look out the window. “I wanted to be better.”

  I don’t know how long we drive before we stop to eat, but we have a simple conversation over burgers, just about the kids and what I plan to do with my life now. It’s basically understood that I’m not returning to Monroe Falls. No trailer park slumming, no Chico, and no being a super bitch on a power trip.

  #fuckthecuntme #reembracethesparkle

  “I didn’t read his emails or take his calls—the same as I didn’t yours. It was a restraint thing. I had to do it alone. I got myself into that mess, and I had to get myself out of it. I hope you understand that,” I say, looking out the window. We are about twenty minutes from home.