“Hey, people, get a room,” Ava said behind us, giggling.
“I have a room,” I told her, pulling back slightly. “But this could be more fun with three.” I shrugged off my jacket and then pulled off my shirt. When I glanced back at Ava, she, too, had removed a layer of clothing. Jesse’s eyes widened, shocked, as Ava made her way over to us, plopping herself down beside Jesse on the couch. She took his hand in hers and placed it on her breast, teasing him. He was stunned at first, uncertain, but after a moment, I saw his fingers begin to rub her nipple through the bra. I rotated my hips, feeling his erection throb.
“You want this, don’t you?” I whispered in his ear. Taking his free hand, I placed it on my breast, allowing him to rub it until I hardened. One of Ava’s hands had slipped below his waistline, and Jesse inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. I unclasped my bra, and Ava did the same.
“I would never do this sober,” I whispered in Jesse’s ear. “Consider yourself lucky.”
Everyone has experienced the walk of shame at least once in his or her life. I don’t give a shit who you are. I don’t care if you’re Betty Homemaker, Christian Mary, or Slut-Bag Barbara. Or in this case, me.
My head was pounding the next morning when I opened my eyes. I looked over, knowing that if I moved too quickly, I would hurl all over my bed sheets. Ava was asleep next to me, stark-ass naked, her arm slung around Jesse, who was on the other side of her, still asleep with only his socks on. I pushed myself into a sitting position, relieved to see that, if anything, I still had my panties covering my lower half, like that was really something to be proud of.
I reached quietly for the cell phone next to my bed, expecting in my sleepy-state to have ten missed calls and texts from Carter making sure I wasn’t doing anything stupid. There was nothing. No texts. No calls. No Carter. I sighed and leaned back, wondering what had compelled me to have a threesome with two people I had to face daily. The drugs had played a part, of course, but was I that stupid? Obviously.
I rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Jesse and Ava as I gathered up some clothes and went downstairs to shower and clean up. I smelled vaguely of ball sweat and rotting garbage and realized I hadn’t showered in about a week. When my mother had been alive, ‘dirty’ was a foreign word in our home. Our house had been immaculate—clothes washed and folded, hair combed, and makeup done. If she could see me now, my mother would roll over in her grave.
I turned the water as hot as I could stand it and stood under the spray, allowing the moisture to wash away all the memories of the night. Fortunately, there wasn’t anything in my head that was solid, just bits and pieces—blackout moments. I looked down at my arm, scanning my eyes over the black and blue pinhole I had shot up in. I scrubbed at it, ignoring the sting, wondering how much longer something like this could go on before I could officially be labeled a junkie.
Outside the bathroom, I heard the front door open and then slam shut. I buttoned my jeans and headed out to see what was going on. Ava was standing at the living-room window, her eyes following something, or someone, outside.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Jesse bailed,” she said with a shrug. “He got a phone call and then took off.”
“He was embarrassed,” I said. “We scarred him for life.” Ava looked at me, and we both burst into a fit of giggles. Just like that, everything was right again. Well, almost everything.
“Can you imagine how Carter would’ve reacted over last night?” asked Ava. She plopped down on the couch, lighting a cigarette. Her dark features were shadowed even more by the streaks of smeared mascara under her eyes, and her black hair was in tiny, twisted knots. Even then, she still managed to pull off that all-natural beauty.
“He’d have a stroke, I’m sure.” I sat down next to her, willing the pounding in my head to ease up. Getting high was an indescribable feeling, but the aftermath was a joke. I knew people who tried to stay wasted all the time just so the hangover couldn’t sneak in and bite them on the ass. I was tempted to try it.
“He’s a good lover,” Ava said. “Jesse, I mean. You’ve got yourself a keeper.”
“I don’t want to keep him.” I took the cigarette she offered me and inhaled. “And he’s not my lover or my boyfriend. He’s a toy, Ava. I’d like to imagine myself ending up with someone who has morals. And a job.”
“You may be too late for that,” Ava said. “Ty won’t wait around forever.”
“Who said anything about Ty? Stop bringing him up.” On the coffee table, my phone buzzed once, alerting me of a text. I reached for it and flipped it open, skimming over the words.
“It’s Jay,” I said, surprised. “Carter’s ex.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants to go out tonight.”
“Like, go out and hang out or go out and screw?” Ava asked.
“I’m assuming since he’s totally and completely gay, he means just to hang out.” I texted a quick reply and snapped the phone shut. “Want to join us?”
“Will there be booze?”
“Most likely.”
“Then yeah,” she said. “I’m down.”
I should have known better than to encourage Ava to a place where tequila and limes were in full swing, but I hadn’t thought twice about it. Now, sitting on the barstool next to Jay as we watched Ava rub up against some guy with sideburns, I regretted my invite.
“She’s an odd one, isn’t she?” Jay called over the thumping music. I rolled my eyes and sipped my cranberry vodka, my poison of choice. Mixed with a couple of tablets of Oxycodone, the buzz was nearing its peak.
“Oh, this isn’t the half of it,” I told him. “She hasn’t started in on the coke.”
Jay looked over at me, the bottle of beer held lazily in one hand.
“I’m going to assume you don’t mean soda.”
“I wish I did.” Eyes on Ava, I thought once again of Carter. I imagined him sitting there, next to Jay, bitching about how immature and irresponsible she was being. I wished I could have seen Jay and Carter together. There was no way for him to know now how happy that would have made me.
“Are you into that stuff?” Jay asked. Tonight, he was dressed in Levi’s and a t-shirt, his hands rough and nailbeds stained with traces of oil. So simple. So manly. There was nothing feminine about this man—the man who had loved my best friend.
“Um…” I faltered, wondering if I wanted to get into such a conversation with a guy I barely knew. I hadn’t pegged his type yet. Either it would completely turn him off, or he’d be able to relate. I didn’t know which one. Thankfully, sensing my hesitation, Jay looked away.
“Thanks for meeting me here tonight,” he said. “Since I came out and started dating Carter, I lost a lot of people in my life.”
“People fear what they don’t understand.” I cleared my throat, relieved for the turn in the conversation. “And that applies to religion and race, not just sexual preference.”
“People still want to be your friend if you have darker skin,” Jay pointed out. “But if you swing for the other team? Nah. They’ll drop you like a hot potato.” He took another sip of his beer and shrugged. “I can’t blame Carter for not coming out.”
“I can.” I signaled the bartender for a refill on my drink. “I was his best friend, Jay. We told each other everything. This was pretty big.”
“It wasn’t an easy thing,” Jay said. “It was difficult, Khloe, for both of us.”
“How long were you two together?”
“Two and a half years,” Jay said.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.” He shrugged again, unable to meet my eyes. “The best couple of years of my life. Until I screwed it up.”
“I know what it feels like to be judged. Trust me, I understand.”
“We did stay friends,” Jay said. “But it just wasn’t the same. After Carter, I couldn’t bring myself to be with anyone else.”
“I wis
h I could tell you if he had been with someone after you,” I said. “But I have no idea because he apparently didn’t tell me things like I thought he did.”
“It doesn’t really matter, I guess,” Jay said. “Not anymore. I couldn’t have told him who to be with or who not to be with. He was strong. He made his own decisions.”
“He made most of mine, too,” I said with a laugh. “Only, it was okay because they were usually the right ones.” On the dance floor, Ava’s high-pitched shriek grabbed my attention. I turned just in time to see her hand intertwined with another woman’s head of blonde hair. She yanked the girl back, screaming something in Spanish. A small crowd had started to accumulate, onlookers too amused to pull the fight apart. Briefly, I considered sitting back and watching the fight go down and hope for the best, but that would make me a terrible friend, and I was already teetering on the edge of losing everyone else in my life.
“That would be my cue to leave,” I said. “In a few minutes, she’ll probably have us kicked out of here, anyway.” I hugged Jay goodbye, too tired to deal with Ava’s drunken escapades all night. Not only was it emotionally exhausting, but it was physically tiring as well. “Hey, it’s time to go,” I shouted. She turned to look at me, one hand still tangled in the blonde-haired woman’s hair, eyes burning fire.
“I’m staying here!” she yelled. “See you, mañana!” I was about to object when Jay rested a hand on my arm.
“I’ll make sure she gets home,” he said. “Let me deal with her tonight.”
“If you were straight, I wouldn’t be considering this.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He looked taken back for a moment, but after a few seconds, a charming smile forced its way in. “Get a hold of me tomorrow, yeah?”
“Of course.”
Ava didn’t even glance up as I gathered my things and walked out the door.
It was a damp night, cool and bitter with threatening rain. I loved it. The chill in the air soothed me, cleared my head. I’d always enjoyed it much more than the sun and heat, which made Seattle the ideal place to live. Carter had never been a fan, and yet he’d stayed, probably for me.
Taking a deep breath, I started toward home. I never could decide if it was a blessing or a curse to live so close to a bar. Ava and I were there too often, but it kept the drinking and driving to a minimum. That counted for something, right? Behind me, the ruckus and noise from the bar were fading, and I hoped someone had broken up the fight before one of the girls got hurt.
The alley I had often walked through to get home seemed unusually dark. Tonight, I didn’t have Carter by my side, my arm linked with this, stumbling drunkenly through the gravel, laughing about something stupid. Tonight, I was alone. I pulled my jacket around my neck, shivering as a breeze tickled my chest. Up ahead of me, near the end of the alley, I saw a figure standing in the dark, watching me approach. I passed the man, keeping my eyes downcast, feeling creeped out.
“Do you know Jesse Holland?” the guy asked. I slowed my pace, automatically becoming aware that there was no one else around as the guy stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in a leather jacket and ripped jeans. In one hand was a beer bottle, the other was a cigarette. From where I was, only feet from him, I could smell the liquor on his breath.
“Who?” I tried to step around him to keep walking, but I was unsuccessful as he blocked my path, and my heart began to thud as I slowed again and met his gaze.
“Jesse Holland,” he said. His eyes were glazed over with drink, and I could smell the cheap cologne and cigarettes from where I stood. His dark hair and five o’clock shadow looked oily and unkempt like he hadn’t showered in weeks. “Punk ass kid about your age, shaggy hair? Earrings?”
“It doesn’t ring a bell.” Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I made another attempt to side-pass him. As I stepped around him, he dropped his cigarette and snapped his hand out to seize me. I was caught off guard as he pushed me back against the brick wall, one hand gripping the outside collar of my shirt, nearing my throat.
“Don’t fuck with me, girl,” he hissed. I turned my head away, ready to scream, but he dropped the bottle in his other hand and smothered it over my mouth, pressing his body against mine painfully hard. I flinched, revolted, and tried to turn my head away again. “I see you two together all the time, screwing and shooting up,” he said. He leaned in closer, and I almost gagged. “Jesse owes me money, and from what I can see, you’re his bitch.”
“I don’t know anything,” I gasped, and that was the honest truth. Jesse had been tight-lipped about where his drugs came from, and I’d never thought to ask. Some dealers were dangerous, and this guy didn’t seem to be an exception. “Jesse never told me anything about owing money. I’m sorry!”
“Well, I’m telling you now,” the man said. “And I expect somebody to get it to me. I don’t give a flying fuck who.” He released my shirt, and I stumbled, falling to the ground on my hands and knees. Tiny pebbles and shards of glass pressed into my palms and kneecaps, but I ignored the pain, praying he would take that as a job well done and leave me be. I was about to pick myself up when a sharp, rib-shattering kick slammed me in the gut. With a grunt, I rolled to my back, shocked, and gasping for air. Before I could stumble to my feet, another piercing kick was delivered. This one, I was certain, cracked a few ribs. Stars danced in my vision as I crawled back onto my hands and knees, eyes closed, trying to breathe through the pain. The world was spinning now, and nausea flooded through me.
“I don’t know anything!” I cried. Shaking, I pulled myself to my feet, leaning against the alleyway dumpster for support.
“One of you, get me my fucking money.” He was in my face, breath vile against my cheek. I flinched and tried to turn away, but again, I was caught off guard as he yanked the front of my shirt and then shoved me back. Again, I was meeting asphalt. More tiny pebbles and little shards of glass sliced into my hands and knees, drawing blood. I didn’t bother trying to get back to my feet this time as he delivered another slam in the gut from his steel-toed boot. Unimaginable pain buzzed through my body, like a rock crushing already broken bones. I cried out and tucked my head, hoping, praying, that he wouldn’t kill me. But at that point, death almost seemed like the better option.
“I’ll give you three days,” the person said. He kneeled, his lips near my ear as I cringed in the dirt. “Your boyfriend, Jesse, knows where to find me. Don’t be afraid to let him know I paid you a visit. This is just a taste of what’s to come.”
He walked away then, swaying slightly, not bothering to look back even once. Curled up on the ground in the fetal position, I watched his shadow disappear around the corner as I hugged my midsection, wondering if every rib in my body was broken. I could hardly breathe, let alone walk, and the thought of having to move from my spot on the ground made me sick. Down the street in the bar, I could hear drunken college-kids singing, yelling, and laughing. If I could just get to the back door.
Taking a deep breath, and then immediately wishing I hadn’t, I rolled back onto my hands and knees. The ground dug into the open wounds on the bottom of my hands, sending tiny slivers of pain through my fingers, but I ignored it, trying to breathe through it. Standing up wasn’t an option, and I knew that without even having to try it. Instead, I crawled forward and braced myself against the pain, praying someone would come along and find me. With dread, I realized I didn’t even have my phone on me. Ava had been holding it in the bar, probably using it as some sort of weapon now.
I stopped crawling and took another shaky breath, too tired to keep going. I was hurting from head to toe, dizzy with pain, hardly able to breathe. I closed my eyes, sat down on the pavement, and wondered if I would be able to survive this life for much longer.
It was the whine of an ambulance siren that brought me back to consciousness, and in the dark of the alleyway, I opened my eyes to find a woman in my face, standing over me, shining a bright light straight into my eye.
“F
uck,” I mumbled, and pushed her hand away. I was in too much pain to sit up.
“Can you hear me?” she asked. When I didn’t answer, a second figure appeared, hovering above my head.
“Khloe,” Ty said. “It’s me. Can you sit up?” Somewhere behind Ty, I heard Ava’s high-pitched tone spouting off profanities.
“I can’t fucking believe this happened,” she said. She sounded furious. “What a chupadora de pollas!” She was pacing the alleyway, her hands flailing, eyes burning fire, looking like she was ready to rip somebody’s head off. I sat up slowly, embracing my abdomen, trying to breathe through the pain. My head was fuzzy, vision blurred.
“How did you find me?” I asked. Well, wheezed. I raised my hand to my head, coming away with bloodstained fingers.
“Jay saw you,” Ava said. She tried to step around Ty to get to me, but the female paramedic was pushing her back. “We had to call an ambulance, doll. You wouldn’t wake up for us.”
“Who did this to you?” Ty asked. Behind the ambulance, a cop car was also parked, and the officer was talking to Jay, scribbling down notes on his pad. Jay stared at me as he spoke to the officer, one eye never leaving my face. For some reason, I felt guilty as if something I had done egged the strange man on.
“I don’t know who it was,” I said. I tried to shrug, but I was in too much pain. “Some guy.” I didn’t dare tell any of them about the fact that the person just happened to be Jesse’s drug dealer. Getting involved with the police in that drama was the last thing I wanted.
“You could have been raped.” Ava was hysterical. She seemed to have sobered up since her dozen tequila shots at the bar, but now, she just looked like a basket case on the verge of a breakdown. For a while, I had almost accepted the fact that I would die a morbid, painful death out in the middle of some Seattle alleyway after getting the shit kicked out of me like a stray dog.
If I Fall Page 10