Consumed

by Scarlet Wolfe

  My fingers trail up his arm and into his hair.

  “You didn’t answer my question, and what if I told you I’d want to even if I was sober?” I don’t know what has gotten into me … I guess four cosmos.

  Simon’s cool hand slides into my hair, his palm against my cheek. “Sweetheart, of course I want to, and tell me when you’re sober, and I’ll believe you.”

  “OK, deal.” I smile at him lazily before my eyes close. I like him, and I find myself trusting him like I’ve never trusted anyone. I don’t understand it.

  ***

  “Sadie, wake up.” Fingers graze my cheek, and I open my eyes. I glance around and see we’re at my apartment.

  “How did you know where I lived?”

  “I looked at your car registration.”

  “You sinceriously are ingenious.”

  “Sinceriously? I might’ve just fell a little harder for you from that clever wording.”

  “You’re falling for me?”

  “Yep, and I’m as surprised as you are. Good thing you won’t remember tomorrow that I said it. Come on.” Simon unbuckles my seat belt. “Let’s get you inside and to bed.”

  Once he helps me up to my second floor apartment, I plop my bag onto the counter that separates the small kitchen from my living room. I take a seat on one of my three bar stools, and a wad of money is placed in front of me.

  “What’s that for?” I ask anxiously.

  “I told you I was hiring you to be my personal dancer for the night.”

  I give him an adamant no with the harsh shaking of my head. Now, I’m dizzy and falling from the stool. Grabbing me just in time, he holds me as I regain my footing.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best spot for you. Let me help you to your bed. I promise I won’t join you.”

  “OK, but you can’t pay me for dancing. That would make me a dancer at a strip club, and I don’t want to be that, either.”

  I think he’s snickering at me, but I’m struggling to focus on anything other than the fact he said he is falling for me.

  “This is my room,” I say as I push the door open and stagger inside. I feel his arms snake around me and his chest rise against my back as he inhales sharply.

  “Fuck, yeah, I better be going. This room smells like you, which is sinceriously my new favorite scent.”

  I giggle, and he gently kisses my ear.

  “Seriously, doll, you better hurry to bed before I change my mind and stick around.” I turn in his arms and plant my lips on his briefly.

  “Thank you for everything. You’re sweet, Simon, and not the villain I thought you were.”

  “Whoa, now, I don’t want to be the sweet guy.”

  I giggle again, and after tripping over clothing a couple of times, I make it to my bed and remove my shorts.

  I climb under the covers, and it sounds like Simon is cursing as he strolls over. He kisses my forehead and then my lips. “Sweet dreams, Sadie. I know you’ll be in mine.”

  Adrian

  “I’m sorry I can’t fix this,” I say to my brothers over lunch by the pool. I’ve always done anything I could to make them happy and lessen the blows of heartache. If any amount of money would cure our mother, it would be spent to make it happen.

  “So, even if you convince her to get the chemo, it’s not going to cure her?” Simon asks.

  “I haven’t researched the type of cancer Denise has, but I trust Aggie, and that’s what she told me. She said Mom has great doctors. ”

  My baby brother nods and turns to look out over the pool. Zev flags down a waitress and orders a drink, and Theo stares at his plate of food.

  “Theo, what do you think I should do?”

  “I think you have to try to convince Mom like Agatha wants you to.”

  “But is that what you think is right?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. You and Agatha were left with power of attorney over Mom when Dad died.”

  “I’ll still consider your opinion, and I need it from all three of you.”

  “If the treatments and doctors scare Mom, then I don’t think she should be forced into it,” Zev says before he slams a fist onto the table. “I’m over her sorry life and how the rest of us have been left to deal with it.”

  Pushing away from the table, he storms off. The waitress approaches with his drink, looking confused. Simon motions for her to give it to him, and he’s soon taking a sip of it.

  “If it will buy her more time, then I say she undergoes the treatments,” he says.

  Theo tosses his fork on the table and leans back in his chair. He looks toward the sunny sky, and I see a tear roll out from under his sunglasses. This sucks.

  “She’s been suffering from schizophrenia for years,” he says. “I hate the life she lives. If she doesn’t want the treatment, I don’t think she should be forced to take it.”

  “But does she even have the ability to know what she wants?” I ask.

  “In her mind, she is scared of the doctors and what the chemo could do to her. That should count in my opinion,” Theo adds.

  “Thank you for being honest with me. Do you think Zev will be alright?”

  “Yeah, you know he can’t handle talking about this kind of shit,” Simon says.

  “The fact he won’t is what worries me.” Leaning back, I let the sun shine down on my face, and I picture Victoria’s. Her support will see me through this difficult decision.

  Sadie

  Shifting in my bed, I feel something hard against my forehead. I open my eyes and find my iPhone stuck partly under my head. I pick it up and pull the sticky note stuck to the front.

  Grr … intelligent woman = difficult password. Put my number in your phone, and text me that you’re alive.

  I giggle and swipe my phone to type my password. Entering Simon as a contact, I punch in the digits he wrote after his message.

  My head is pounding, so I stroll out to the kitchen to get a drink of water and some pain reliever. I make a mental note that whatever was in the drink I consumed, my body doesn’t like it in excess.

  Spotting the stack of money still on my counter, I stop and stare at it. It’s rolled inside a piece of notebook paper, and my name is written in ink on the front.

  Pulling the paper free from the bills, I read the note written inside.

  Scientist Sadie,

  Here is payment for your detailed analysis and report on artificial sweeteners. I believe we should discuss these findings over dinner this coming week. Please let me know a convenient date and time, and I shall pick you up accordingly.

  Sincerely,

  Simon Cassano

  I’m smiling like a damn fool. The biggest, cheesiest, goofiest grin is plastered on my face. I feel flushed and look around even, almost waiting for him to appear and see my embarrassment. Wait, how did he get home? Panic floods me.

  Oh, my god, is he here?

  I glance around the small space and check the restroom. I only have one bedroom, so there aren’t a lot of places he could be hiding.

  Of course, he’s gone. In an instant, I feel foolish. He probably got a ride or took a cab home. He likely partied with his brother and the strippers after babysitting my drunk ass.

  The thought of him with another woman ignites anger. Biting my lip, I stare at the screen of my phone, debating on what to say to him.

  Me: I’m alive. I see you found a way home, or is grand theft auto another crime you like to commit?

  I look around my counter and discover my keys about the time my phone dings.

  Simon: I can’t say there is a high demand for Ford Focuses. Now, a sexy scientist is another story.

  Yeah, that grin is back.

  Me: I hope you were able to find some fun after babysitting my drunk ass.

  God, that’s such a lie. I hope he went home and to bed.

  Simon: Hmm … since I found watching a sexy scientist sleep fun, I say yes, I did find some.

  My hand covers my mouth as I imagine him admiring
me in my sleep. My phone dings again, and I jump.

  Simon: So, what night are we having dinner? Or, uh, our meeting?

  Me: Wednesday evening at six?

  Simon: Perfect. I’ll pick you up then.

  I must talk to Victoria before my date. She has to tell me everything she knows about the baffling Simon Cassano. The bad boy with the kindest heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Victoria

  “I mean it, Victoria. Follow the rules in there.”

  I tune out Reggie, who’s talking into my micro earpiece, and continue toward the dilapidated apartment.

  This residential area of old homes is peppered with two-story apartment buildings that are shady but not ready to be condemned. I take a deep breath and think of Adrian before I tap on the door to one of the ground level dwellings.

  Sensing someone peeking through the peephole, I rub my nose, trying to appear desperate for a hit. The door opens, and the man we’ve been trying to nail for months looks me over.

  “Hey,” he says before he glances around outside.

  “Hi, I’m Angela.”

  “Pete.” He steps aside for me to enter, and I pass him. His baggy, torn jeans fall farther down his hips as he stretches his thin arm up to scratch the back of his dirty, blonde hair.

  I touch my nose. This time it’s from my reaction to the stench of trash and what smells like backed-up sewage. He’s living like a junkie, not only a dealer.

  “Wendy said you’re wanting to join us,” he says, almost more as a question.

  “Yeah, I need cash to cover my own shit.” He believes I want to sell cocaine. Wendy is a prostitute, who is pimped out by Pete’s brother. I have a knack at friending the hookers in this city and offering them deals in exchange for information.

  Wendy’s life will be in danger over this snitch, but her alternative was a year behind bars. She has teenage siblings to support and decided to take a deal. I’m trying to find a way to get her off the streets.

  I sometimes meet those who I don’t view as criminals. They truly were dealt a shitty hand and are only doing what they think they have to for their survival or the survival of those they love.

  They’re not capable of envisioning a better way of living, having mentally separated themselves from the rest of society they deem superior.

  I take in the sight of the cramped, filthy room as Pete locks the door and glances out the dingy blinds covering two windows.

  I think of Adrian’s penthouse, and I’m a world away from that life. There is a worn, brown couch and a folding chair sitting across from it.

  A cheap glass table is piled with old fast food bags, containers and beer cans.

  I make note of the Kel-Tec .380 pistol shoved between the back of his wife-beater tank and the back of his jeans.

  “Strip,” he orders after turning to face me.

  “Uh, what?”

  “Strip. I want to see you’re not wearing a wire, and then you’re doing a line with me.”

  “You want me to strip off my clothes?”

  “Yeah, bitch, do it now.” Pete rubs his own nose as his anxiety becomes heightened. The man is in his late twenties, but he looks forty.

  “Don’t do it, Victoria,” Reggie says in my ear. “I have a bad feeling about this. Get out of there.”

  I hold my hands up. “OK, OK, give me a damn second.” Since my purse has a microphone sewn into it, I carefully lower it from my shoulder and set it at my feet. Next, I take hold of my black t-shirt and pull it over my head.

  My ponytail I’m wearing, to somewhat disguise my healthy hair droops, so I separate two pieces in my hand and pull them outward to tighten the holder.

  “Bra. Take it off.”

  Once I’ve calmed my rattled nerves with a deep breath, I reach behind me and unhook my satin, black bra. It hits the floor, and I feel disgusted as he eyes my tits with a smile. He’s missing a few teeth, and he might as well lose them all since the remaining are brown and gross.

  I keep thinking of Adrian and imagining what this would do to him. For the first time ever, I’m not comfortable doing my job.

  “Pants off.”

  Once I’ve removed my old tennis shoes, I unbutton my raggedy skinny jeans. I jerk one pant leg off and then the other. Reggie is in my ear, swearing and talking about me undressing.

  “Get the fuck out of there, Vic,” he says desperately. “This wasn’t part of our deal.”

  “I like the black panties. You can leave them on for now. Turn around,” Pete commands over Reg’s voice.

  “We’ll do a line, and then we’ll fuck,” he adds after I’ve done a 360 degree turn, showing him I’m free of a wire.

  My brain is racing as I think of what to do to get out of snorting coke with him, yet still earn his trust. He plops down on the couch and motions for me to come over.

  I pad slowly across his floor and imagine burning my socks upon leaving this hellhole. Once I’m within arm’s length, he clasps my wrist and pulls me down next to him.

  Removing a baggie from under the couch cushion, he pulls a block of blow out. “You haven’t been using long, have you?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “I can tell. You’re hot. Keep this up, and you won’t look like that for long.” He chuckles and rubs his nose as he sets the coke on the glass surface. “Especially if you start using crystal. That shit will age you.” He’s referring to meth, and no thanks.

  Whipping out a pocket knife, he uses the flat side of the blade to smash the lump a few times, breaking it up. He straightens his knife and begins crushing it with the blade itself.

  Next, he makes two neat lines of blow. His gun is on the opposite side of me, but I could reach it if I had to.

  Think fast, Victoria.

  “That’s it, Vic, we’re coming in. We’ll at least get him for possession.”

  I want to scream for Reggie to stay put. He’s going to ruin everything if he barges in. I can snort one line if it means Pete will hand over the goods.

  I’ll fake sick after and give an IOU to fuck him next visit, and I’m out of here with the drugs. When I return with cash in exchange for more coke, he’ll go down. I don’t care what Reggie and I agreed to. I’m not in the danger he thinks I’m in.

  “Here, ladies first,” Pete says, his words laced with his nasty breath. I smile and take from him the dollar bill he’s rolled up.

  “We’re coming in, Vic. We’re coming in!”

  “Fuck,” I say.

  Pete’s head jerks my way about the time the door busts open. I reach around his back and pull his pistol straight from his pants. His right hand comes up, the blade of his knife just missing my arm as I jump to my feet.

  In only seconds, I’m holding him at gunpoint at close range. Reggie and Tucker stand in the doorway, with a red dot on Pete’s forehead, shouting for him to drop his weapon.

  Pete reaches under the couch cushion beside him, and I go to squeeze off a round, but Reggie fires first.

  Our drug dealer is fucking dead.

  “What the hell were you thinking? I had it under control!” I scream a string of profanities as Reggie charges toward me.

  Tucker is calling into dispatch on his radio as he approaches our subject who has been shot in the head. Fragments of Pete’s bloody brain are spattered over my naked body, and I’m furious.

  I’m also sad and confused, having feelings I typically don’t experience with my job. Along with those emotions are images of Adrian and his name being said over and over in my mind.

  “I was so close, Reggie. One line, and I would’ve gotten the hell out with the drugs.”

  “You expected me to leave you with a guy who said he was fucking you after he was jacked up on that shit!”

  “I could’ve handled him.”

  A blanket is wrapped around me, and that’s when I notice the apartment is now crowded with emergency medical personnel and law enforcement.

  “We had an agreement before you went in, and as usual, you
broke it,” he says to me in a much quieter yet angrier voice.

  “Why didn’t you let me take the shot?”

  “Because I’ve killed before and you haven’t. You just returned from your suspension, too; although, you losing this job might be the only way to keep you alive.”

  “If I were male, you would’ve let me undress and snort that line without interfering. That’s where this is messed up. You let your feelings make this decision.”

  ***

  The water, almost scalding, is turning my skin beet red. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but I’m nauseated, so I turn off the shower.

  I almost went to Adrian’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to tarnish his place with the vile remnants of a wasted life. When did Pete’s soul become so lost that evilness won? Do the drugs cause that? Or is it a horrific childhood left unspoken?

  I get it; drugs numb the monumental pain of a tragic event or of countless malicious moments someone never deserved to experience.

  The problem is, the numbness has to wear off, or we’re dead. No drug, money, sex, love or perfect condition classic car is going to stop the pain from returning as long as we’re breathing.

  This also includes the thrilling rush of adrenaline we feel when risking our lives. Until we face the torment, the pain will always win.

  I dry off my skin until it’s raw. I grab my phone and tap my thumb on the screen as I contemplate texting Adrian.

  Me: It’s wrong for me to ask with all you have on your plate, but would you please pick me up? I need your strength today. I don’t have any left.

  Adrian: It will never be wrong to need me. On my way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adrian

  I can’t drive fast enough to get Victoria back to my penthouse. She hasn’t spoken since I picked her up. I asked her then if she was OK, and all I got was a nod and a peck from her lips. Her mind is clearly somewhere else.

  She smells sensational, and her hair is damp, but why did she leave work and go to her apartment to shower? I have a feeling whatever she’s been through is bad, and I despise this dangerous job that could take her from me.