by Marie Delta
“And me! What a nice surprise! And doesn’t it smell delicious!” Harold walked through the kitchen door, back straight and a smile on his face as if he was the man of the house. He paused briefly to hug Gina’s mother, then crossed the room to Damien. “Well, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Harold.” He held out his hand and Damien shook it. Gina watched this with apprehension, trying to understand the emotions playing on her brother’s face. But before she could discern them, her mother interrupted, suggesting they all sit down, and enjoy the meal that had been prepared for them.
“So…where’s Jakob?” Gina started right away, hoping to get some type of reaction, “I had a special plate ready for him. Though, he might not have made it home if he ate it.” Harold laughed and turned to Damien, “Your sister is quite a jokester. The best dinner entertainment money can buy.” Damien, however, made no comment. He just stared across the table at Harold, expression still unreadable.
“I have a surprise for everyone, too.” It was their mother’s turn to chime in, “Well, Harold and I…”
“No!” Gina’s mouth hung open. She had not meant to scream, but she had seen the end of the sentence hanging there in her mother’s eyes. And this time she could not stop herself, “You can’t marry him Mommy, he’s a bad man.” The whole table laughed, which startled her to no end. Gina looked over at her brother, her knight in shining armor, who looked back at her. Seemingly daring her to try to read his thoughts, which she did for the first time in her life. Then she gasped.
Damien began to laugh. He laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes, and he gripped at his stomach, doubling over. Harold laughed, too. Though a bit less enthusiastically. “You know Gina; you really should stay out of people’s heads. It’s dangerous in there if you don’t know what you’re looking at. Don’t you agree, Lucy?”
Gina moved to step between the man and her mother but was snatched into the air by her brother. “Damien, let me go, put me down!” She screamed and kicked her feet to no avail. “Damien why won’t you help me!” Gina continued, becoming fearful now. Finally, her brother spoke, “Do you not believe what your eyes have told you little sister?” Gina could hear the smile in his voice as he held her tightly. “Your family is not what you think it is.”
“You’re not even her kid!” Jakob entered the kitchen, somehow ready for the situation unfolding there. “You were adopted, stupid.”
“And the only reason they chose you is because of what you can do.” Harold added. He signaled Damien to drop his still squirming sister. “Let us reintroduce ourselves little one. I am Amon, and he,” the man pointed to Jakob, “is Neberius, sent by your mother to bring me here.” Gina began to shake her head. She turned around and faced her brother, but before she could tell him to go back to hell, everything went black.
Once Inside
Chapter 1
It was a hot day in Vegas. Duncan sat on the curb watching people go by, hoping that some generous man or woman would give him a few dollars. His clothes were tattered and smelled of body odor and alcohol. His body was streaked with dirt and grime. After sitting in the hot sun for over two hours, Duncan decided to call it a day.
He checked his pockets and pulled out the crinkled bills he had received. It was almost twenty dollars. Duncan decided to take a chance and play for money at the nearest casino. The cannery was right across the street, so he thought he would try his luck at one of their slot machines.
As he entered, the air conditioning hit him and he gave a sigh of relief. The Las Vegas sun beat down with no mercy, so it was nice to finally be indoors. Duncan chose a machine and sat down. He put five dollars into it and played 40 cents. The machine seemed to like him as it continued to give back his money and kept him playing. Duncan grew excited imagining himself winning the 3,000-dollar jackpot. Instead, on the next spin, he got the bonus, which gave him twelve free spins. As he sat watching, the machine pumped out money, money and more money. Right after his last spin, Duncan pulled his ticket out of the machine then went to cash out his 50 dollars.
Debating on whether or not he wanted to risk the little money he had again, Duncan trudged off to the bathroom. There he sat and had his first bowel movement in three days. He planned the rest of his day in his head, deciding that the money he had made was meant for him to spend on his self. He finished using the bathroom, wiped, and then went to the sinks where he washed his hands, arms and face.
His next stop was the hotel he frequented. Thirty dollars a night. He paid for a room there and pulled out his prepaid cell phone to call his dealer, Jimmy. He asked the man to make a delivery to his hotel room, and then ran the water in the shower. As the shower water got hot, he pulled off his dirty clothes and washed them in the sink. The motel’s tiny bar of soap created enough bubbles for him to think his clothes clean and sanitary, then he hung them off the edge of the sink.
Naked now, Duncan hopped into the shower, letting the hot water beat the dirt from his body. He used the same bar of soap to lather himself up, then rinsed off just in time to hear a knock at the door. He wrapped his self up in one of the hotel’s tiny white towels and answered the knock.
Jimmy entered the room holding a pizza box in one hand. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Duncan smiled, “I am. Thanks man.” He grabbed the pizza box and began to stuff his mouth with a greasy pepperoni slice. The dealer sat down on the queen-sized bed and pulled from his pocket a tiny bag of marijuana and some Zig Zags, then sat them on the bed.
Duncan saw the bag and perked up again. He walked over to the drawer where he had stashed his money and pulled out fifteen dollars, handing it to the man on the bed. Again, he thanked him. “I appreciate the delivery service.”
“Hey, you know it’s no problem. I was in the area already. Just call me if you need some more.” Jimmy rose off the bed and left just as quickly as he came.
Grabbing up the bag and papers, Duncan rolled a joint and lit it up with a casino book of matches. The weed smelled good and reminded him to stick a towel under the door. After making sure his window was fully closed, he took a long drag off the joint and picked up his phone again.
Duncan’s best friend was marijuana. Second to that was a man who went by the name O’ Reilly. The two men had met at a bar. They were both homeless and jobless, and they both enjoyed the occasional high from weed and meth. The phone rang and rang but O’ Reilly did not answer, so Duncan flipped channels and smoked his joint.
Soon the joint was nothing but ashes, and the television was tuned into Cartoon Network. Duncan enjoyed the cartoons when he was high, and did not get to see them very often. Today would be his day of rest before he would have to go out again and panhandle. The cartoons were soon watching him as he drifted into a drug-induced sleep.
Chapter 2
Duncan was startled awake by a knock at the door. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was checkout time. He got up slowly, still groggy, and walked over to the sink where his dry clothes hung stiffly from the counter top. He pulled on his boxers and jeans, slipped on his old Adidas, and walked out to the office ensuring his key was in his back pocket.
The hotel’s owner stood at an empty counter, almost as if he were waiting for Duncan to show up. “Another night?” The man knew Duncan well and at times let him stay at the hotel at a discounted price. Duncan was hoping this would be one of those days.
“I’ve only got twenty dollars.” Duncan looked at him with his brown eyes wet over with fake tears. At least, Duncan liked to think they were fake.
“Twenty is not enough. I need more or else you can’t stay.”
“Come on, man. You’ve got plenty of empty rooms. I’m not causing any trouble.”
“Thirty or no room.”
“I’ve only got twenty. I’m not lying to you, man. It’s all I’ve got.”
“Go. Give me the twenty and go.”
“Thanks, man. This means a lot.”
“Just go. No more will I do this.” The hote
l owner, Mohammed, said this every time and Duncan knew he did not mean it. The man felt sorry for him, and was willing at times to let him stay for free.
Duncan, at age 22, had a child’s round face and light brown eyes. He was short and stocky at five feet, four inches and 165 pounds. He sported a scruffy beard, and long brown hair; not wanting to pay anyone for a haircut. He wore the same jeans ripped at the knees and the same black shirt every day. Considering himself frugal, Duncan would not even buy himself clothes from the thrift store unless the clothes he had were unwearable.
After renewing his room key -the motel used keycards- Duncan walked back to his room. There, he brushed his teeth with a toothbrush he kept in his pocket and washed his face. He rattled through the little bit of change he had and discovered that he had two dollars in small change. He decided to grab his self a beer, since there was still pizza left in the box. Before leaving the room again, he heated up a slice and stuffed it into his mouth. Then he headed back out into the sun towards the gas station down the street.
At the gas station, he greeted the clerks and pulled a beer from the cooler. Everyone there knew him and the clerk that spoke to him the most prayed for him every night. Her name was Gabriella and she found the dirty man attractive and sweet. She wished she had the facilities to help him out, but she knew that was not the way of the world, so she simply prayed that one day he would find a job and clean himself up.
Ella, as Duncan called her, was always happy to see him. This made Duncan feel good, knowing that someone cared about him. His mother had died when he was young and his father had told him he could not live with him as soon as he turned eighteen. Duncan only spent a short time crying over it, realizing that he would rather live on the streets than with his father who beat him verbally since the day his mother passed.
“So how’s it going?” Ella asked the same question every time she saw him.
“Oh, it’s going.” And Duncan replied the same way every time.
“I see you ran into some money, huh? You smell good today.”
“Yeah, I’m staying at my palace right now. I had my servants bathe me this morning.” Duncan was not at all surprised by Ella’s comment on his body odor. He knew that she meant to compliment him, and he was happy for it.
“Well, let your servants know that they’re doing a good job and give them a good tip.”
“Will do.” At that, Duncan left the gas station, his beer covered by a can sized brown bag. He walked back down the street to his hotel room; keeping his head down for fear of seeing someone he knew who might want to have a conversation with him. As he let himself into his room, he noticed an old man pushing into the room next door. The old man had overly tanned wrinkled skin and wore a beret over his head, which was covered with stringy white hair. The old man looked at Duncan, tipped his hat, and closed his door behind him. Duncan had a weird feeling as he, too, began to close his door. The man had struck him as creepy and mysterious.
Once inside of his room, door closed and all, Duncan rolled another joint and took a couple of drags before pulling out his phone to call O’ Reilly. Just as he was pressing the call button, another call came in, causing him to answer it as soon as it rang. On the other line was his Jimmy, calling to ask him a favor. He was asked if he would make a couple of drop offs at the Cannery, where the drug dealer was no longer allowed in. In exchange, he would give him twenty dollars and a twenty-dollar bag of weed. Duncan looked at his beer, still unopened and agreed.
He waited for Jimmy to show up, and once he did, Duncan immediately grabbed the bags of marijuana and headed over to the casino. Inside he found the three men that waited there and collected their money. Then he returned to his room.
“Were they all there?”
Duncan nodded, “And they all paid up.”
He handed the dealer the money, minus twenty dollars and happily snatched the two dime bags of weed from him. It was not the first time he had done a job for the dealer, and the man laughed when Duncan snatched the the drugs from his hand. Without another word, the dealer left the room, still laughing.
Duncan, feeling pretty good, cracked his beer open and took a few good gulps, then switched the television to the porn channel. He watched for a while as he pleasured himself and fell asleep on the queen bed when he was done.
Waking up, Duncan blinked and rolled over. He had slept his way through the day and so sat up and took another few gulps from his beer. He found the roach from the joint he had smoked earlier and puffed on it a couple of times, tossing it aside once he noticed he was smoking paper.
Again, he tried to call O’ Reilly, and this time he answered on the first ring.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” It was their usually greeting.
“Where you been, man?”
“I’m at the hotel. Room fourteen.”
“Okay. I’m right by there. Be there in a few.” Both men hung up at the same time.
While he waited, Duncan rolled a joint for himself and O’Reilly to share. Just as he was about to lose patience and spark up the joint, there was a knock at the door.
O’Reilly stood on the other side of the door, shaking. Duncan let the man in and looked him up and down. He knew better than to ask about his health, or where he had been, so Duncan said nothing and handed him the joint.
“I got something else for you. The pot can wait.”
Duncan knew exactly what the thing was he had, but waited patiently for his friend to sit down on the bed and get settled. Once he did, O’Reilly pulled out a tiny bag filled with a white powder. He held it up in from of his face and waited. Duncan took the cue and grabbed the large telephone book, handing it to his friend. Some of the powder was poured out onto the book and separated into two lines. A rolled up dollar bill was passed from one man to the other and they snorted the lines, leaning back and sniffing away the burn in their noses.
“That’s some good stuff.” Duncan admitted.
“Yeah, I know. Got it from Jo down the street. That’s where I was when you called.”
“I heard his stuff is hard to come down off of. Heard it makes you wacko.”
“Aw, that shit’s just talk. Guys who can’t handle the good stuff, you know.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll find out.”
Chapter 3
A few hours later, the two men were doing push-ups in the small motel room, trying to see who would fall first. It was a game they played almost every time they hung out. Duncan shared his beer with O’Reilly and they both smoked a joint for themselves after Duncan won the competition, as usual.
“How many more nights do you have?”
“Just tonight. I’m not rich you know.”
“If you want, I’ll go halves with you for one more night.”
“You got some more stuff?”
“Yeah, you seen it with your own eyes. Enough to last us through the night.”
“Cool, here.” Duncan handed him fifteen dollars, “I’m going to grab a couple more beers.”
“Alright, get as many as you can.”
The two men walked out of the door together and separated at the office. By the time Duncan arrived at the gas station, Ella was gone and replaced by another clerk, whom he nodded to in greeting. He bought four beers and smiled a goodbye to the clerk as he left.
Back at the room, he kicked the door to signal to O’Reilly that his hands were full, though they were not. O’Reilly opened the door anyway, after looking out the peephole. He grabbed a beer out of the bag in Duncan’s hand and plopped down on the bed.
O’Reilly was as tall as Duncan was short; standing about six feet two inches. He had red hair and freckles sprinkled all over his face and arms. He dressed like a man with money, sporting a brown blazer and matching slacks with wing tipped shoes. He had no odor about him and Duncan constantly wondered how the man was able to keep himself up so well on the streets. Again, he knew better than to ask, as O’Reilly would not answer. Instead, he would reply with another ques
tion so intriguing that it was easy to forget what you asked in the first place.
“So how’s the business this time of year.” A known joke between the two of them.
“It’s booming! How about you?” O’ Reilly asks with a smile.
“The same. Supply and demand, partner. Supply and demand.”
“Speaking of supplies, I’m gonna need some more.”
“I thought you said we had enough for the night...”
“Well, I changed my mind. Here, do one more with me.”
O’Reilly took out the small bag and tapped another pile out. He separated the dust into two lines as he did before and attacked the first line with the same rolled up bill. Then he passed the bill and the phonebook over to Duncan. Duncan sniffed up his line and they both laid back on the bed staring at the ceiling.
“It looks like we have plenty, man. What do you really need to go out for?” It is quiet for a few moments before Duncan gets his answer.
“You ever try anything other than meth?”
Duncan would have thought that the question meant his friend was soon to go out and buy a different type of drug had he not been talking to O’Reilly. The question was a cop out, as they always were, so Duncan sighed and waited for his cue to get up and double lock the motel room door.
Soon enough, O’Reilly was up and moving towards the door. He did not even say goodbye, he just got up and left. Duncan sat and stared at the door for a few moments then got up and began cleaning the room. He made up the bed, took off his clothes and folded them. Then he unfolded his jeans and put them back on. He wiped down the shower with one of the motel’s washrags and then the sink and the inside of the microwave. He stood; staring at the pizza box for a few moments then decided he did not want it so he took it down to the outside trashcan.
Once he was satisfied everything was clean he began doing push-ups in the middle of the room. When his arms began to shake, he flopped over on his back and did crunches. As many as he could push out. Then squats. Then he did a set of burpees and walked over to the sink where he used one of the little plastic cups to get water from the tap. He drank three cups of water and then sat on the edge of the bed. Then he stood up and began to pace. It was time for another joint. He rolled one up quickly and lit it with a match. He puffed hard on the joint, and began to pace again.