by Alexa Land
My view was a bit distorted by the water, but I could see TJ as he climbed back in bed. He curled up on his side too, occupying only a sliver of his big bed. I kept watching him as I began to drift off. For some reason, it was reassuring to know he was close by.
Chapter Five
A pair of yellow eyes were staring at me when I awoke, and I drew in my breath. They belonged to a small, gray cat, who was sitting on my chest. He hissed at me, then jumped off and darted into the bedroom.
I sat up and looked around, squinting a bit from a headache that pulsed in time to the throbbing in my jaw. Several items had been left on the coffee table for me, including a bottle of ibuprofen, a note, a business card and a cellphone. The note said: I’m downstairs in the shop. Call me when you wake up, and please be careful if you’re still dizzy. I left a shirt and a pair of shoes for you, if you want them. –TJ. A neatly rolled T-shirt sat atop a pair of sneakers under the table.
The black business card said ‘TV and VCR Repair’ in white lettering above an address and phone number, and it was oddly familiar. I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and fished through it until I located an identical card. So that was why the street name had stood out to me. Josh had given me the card at a recent get-together, while telling me about his grandfather’s business. Apparently TJ worked with Josh’s granddad.
I uncapped the water bottle and drank half of it, then shook a couple painkillers into my palm and washed them down. As I waited for the pills to kick in, I stared at the fish tank. Its light was on, which brought out the color in several different varieties of goldfish.
After a while, my focus shifted to the rest of my surroundings. The apartment itself was a fairly plain, white rectangle, but TJ had brought it to life with houseplants, warm earth tones in the furnishings and area rugs, and colorful, abstract prints on the walls. It was perfectly clean, aside from the books. They were everywhere. To my left, near the front door, a pair of tall bookcases overflowed onto the honey-colored wood floor. The dining table at the opposite end of the apartment was consumed by books, and some had even found their way into the adjacent compact kitchen. Somehow though, they made the place feel cozy instead of cluttered.
The need to pee finally drove me to my feet. It was a relief to find I wasn’t dizzy anymore. I had to go into the bedroom to reach the small bathroom, and after using the facilities, I looked in the mirror as I washed my hands.
God, what a mess. The spot on my jaw where I’d been hit had swollen and turned purple. On top of that, my face was dirt-streaked, my hair stood on end, and my brown eyes were more than a little bloodshot. I washed my face and tried to smooth down my hair before deciding that was the best I could do.
As I cut through the bedroom again, I glanced around. The bed was neatly made, and the room was tidy, except for all the books. They were heaped on the single nightstand and overflowed onto the floor, where they formed a small mountain range against the wall.
When I returned to the living room, I exchanged my ripped shirt for TJ’s soft, gray T-shirt and slipped my feet into the sneakers, which fit perfectly. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the titles in the nearest stack of books as I tied the laces. They were eclectic to say the least, and included a gay romance, a suspense thriller, a book on the history of aviation, and a biography of Nikola Tesla. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of that.
Instead of calling TJ, I decided to go downstairs and speak to him in person. I tied my ripped shirt around my waist, since I didn’t know what else to do with it, and when I left the apartment, I made sure the door locked behind me. A fairly steep staircase extended from the small landing.
There were two doors on the ground floor. One led to an exit at the back of the building, and the other connected to the repair shop. I went through the latter and wound my way through a cramped storeroom before emerging into the showroom.
TJ was in a back corner of the shop, hunched over a work bench. He wore a pair of black-framed safety glasses that would have done Clark Kent proud, and was concentrating intently as he soldered some sort of little electronic device. I noticed his hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he wore faded, baggy jeans and an oversized blue T-shirt that hid his body. He glanced up and caught me studying him, and I mumbled, “Um, hi.”
“Hey. How do you feel?” TJ pulled off the glasses and set them aside with the soldering tool.
“I’m okay. Thanks for helping me last night, and for the shirt and shoes. I’ll bring them back when I’m done with them.” I shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other.
“Are you hungry? I was going to come up and make you some breakfast when you called me.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. You already did so much for me.”
“It’d be no trouble.”
After an awkward pause, I asked, “How did you know I was downstairs last night?”
“You rang the bell.”
“Oh. I’d been trying to do that before I passed out. I didn’t think I succeeded.” I fidgeted a bit and finally blurted, “Well, I’d better go.”
He stood up and said, “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I could still make you breakfast, or some coffee.”
“Thanks, but I really have to go.”
“Alright. I’ll walk you out, the front door’s locked.”
I followed him past a wall of second-hand TVs and a glass display case with VCRs and other small electronics. “So, you fix this stuff?” I asked, in a feeble attempt at making conversation.
“Yeah. Sometimes customers bring me things to repair. Mostly though, I find broken stuff people have thrown away, get it working perfectly, and sell it for a few bucks. I don’t get a lot of customers, though. Everyone wants the new stuff.”
When we reached the glass door, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and turned one in the lock, then held the door open for me. I paused and looked up into his blue-green eyes. “Thank you, TJ.”
“I hope you kept the business card I left for you. Don’t hesitate to call if you ever need anything.”
“I actually already had one. A friend of mine, this kid named Josh, gave it to me. I guess you must work with his grandpa. That card’s actually how I ended up here last night, the street name was familiar.”
A little grin curved the corner of his full lips. “Oh, right. Josh told me once that you and he end up hiding out in the same places at every party his dads take him to.”
“So you’ve met him. I guess he must come in here to visit his granddad.”
“That’d be me, and yeah, Josh comes here now and then. He likes to tinker with the electronics. He doesn’t want to fix things, but he enjoys building little robot action figures out of the spare parts.”
I knit my brows and said, “Sorry, I didn’t follow. What would be you?”
“I’m Josh’s granddad.”
“I don’t get it. I mean, I know he’s adopted, but you’re like, twenty-eight and his dads are in their mid-twenties. It doesn’t add up.”
“I’m forty-one.”
“Oh! You look so young!”
“I get that a lot.”
The lightbulb finally went on, the one I’d been reaching for since I showed up on his doorstep, and I exclaimed, “You’re Trevor Dean’s dad!”
“Yup.”
“Jesus, that’s why you seemed so familiar, you look just like him! It was driving me crazy.” He seemed a little embarrassed as I stared at him, and I knew I should stop putting him on the spot, but I barreled ahead with, “It still doesn’t add up. Trevor’s my age. If you’re forty-one, then you would have had to be….”
He finished my mental math for me. “Seventeen when I became a dad.”
“Right.” We stood there awkwardly for a few moments, and finally I said, “Well, I’d better go. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stepped through the door and started down the narrow, one-way street. The neighborhood was quiet on a Sunday. When I glanced over my should
er, TJ was right where I’d left him, watching me go. He raised his hand in a little wave, and I did too before I rounded the corner.
After walking a couple blocks in a random direction, I paused at a bus stop and studied the transit map on display. That helped me finally get my bearings. I crossed the street and turned right at the next intersection, headed for the Haunted House. I needed to retrieve my phone and shoes, and I was more than a little curious to learn the outcome of that armed stand-off.
It took maybe half an hour to reach Gracie’s house. I had to knock three times, and when she finally opened the door, I said, “Hey. Sorry I didn’t call first, but I left my phone here.”
She threw open the metal security gate and stepped aside for me. “Puck said you went running out of here last night, and you left a bunch of stuff upstairs. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Who were all those guys with guns?”
Gracie locked up behind me, then led me into the parlor. She was dressed in a floral silk robe that reminded me of a kimono, and without any makeup, she was deathly pale. “Puck had an unpaid gambling debt, and the bookie sent a couple guys to collect. He got wind that they were coming, and instead of just giving them the money, he called a couple of his friends to back him up.”
“So, everything’s okay now?”
She nodded, then pushed her long hair behind her shoulder. “When I got home and saw what was happening, I took care of it. The debt’s paid off. Lord knows why Puck didn’t just do that in the first place.” Because he’s an idiot. I didn’t say that out loud. It couldn’t be news to her. Gracie added, “I’m sorry if all of that freaked you out. Did you hear them arguing or something? Is that why you and Gabriel came downstairs?”
“No, we ran down here to escape from the man who was trying to abduct Gabriel.”
Gracie turned to me as her eyes went wide with surprise. “What?”
“Didn’t Puck mention that part? That he let a stranger into the house, who came after my friend?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. Is Gabriel okay?” When I nodded, she leaned against her desk and said, “Shit, I shouldn’t have left Puck in charge.” Ya think? “Tell me more. Who was this guy, and did he do that to your face?” She indicated my bruised jaw.
“Apparently he works for Gabriel’s ex-boyfriend and was sent to collect him. He hit me when I tried to intervene, and I ended up smashing your lamp over his head so we could escape. I’ll buy you a new one.”
She waved her hand and said, “I don’t care about the lamp, though I did wonder why it was in the hall. I’m just trying to get my head around the fact that some thug got in here and tried to kidnap someone in my home.”
“It wasn’t hard to do. When we ran downstairs, the front door and security gate were wide open.”
“Are you serious?” When I nodded, she said, “I’m sorry. I try to make sure this is a safe place for all of us, but I fucked up.”
“Just maybe think twice before leaving Puck in charge again.”
“No kidding. You sure Gabriel’s okay?”
“Yeah. He was shaken up, but he actually seemed more together than I was. Maybe that’s because he’d shot up earlier than I did, so he wasn’t as wasted when we ran out of here. I ended up passing out in the doorway of a shop after I walked him home.”
“Fuck! None of that should have happened, Zachary. Let me make this up to you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I want to. You and I go back a long way, and our relationship is based on trust. I fucked up last night, I shouldn’t have gone out when I had people staying over. I always want to give Puck the benefit of the doubt, but he just keeps proving he can’t handle any sort of responsibility.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
“Sleeping it off in my bedroom. He got super wasted last night.” She went around to the front of her desk, pulled her necklace over her head, and used the key to unlock the drawer where she kept her merchandise.
“That’s nothing new.”
“Nope.”
Gracie picked up a lunch sack, shook it to open it up, and dropped a few baggies of heroin into it. When she held it out to me, I asked, “What’s that for?”
“I told you, I want to make it up to you. I put you in a terrible position last night, and I want to show you I’m sorry.”
“Wait, so you’re just giving me that? You just threw a couple hundred dollars’ worth of H in that bag, maybe more.”
“Small price to pay to keep you as a friend and customer.”
“But I have to accept some responsibility, too. I knew Puck was in charge, and I wasn’t thrilled about it, but I chose to stay. That’s on me,” I told her.
“So, you don’t want it?”
I thought about saying no. I’d always been careful to limit myself. I knew I walked a narrow ledge, and that it would be easy to lose my balance.
But if I truly believed I was in charge, not the drug, then it shouldn’t be a problem. This was the perfect opportunity to prove that really was the case. I could decide how much to take and how much to save for another time. There was no reason to turn this down.
Besides, I hadn’t been able to enjoy it the night before. I’d taken too much and fallen asleep, then got scared shitless and had to go running all over San Francisco. I’d promised myself one night that weekend to enjoy myself, and I hadn’t gotten what I’d been after. I owed myself this.
I took the bag from her. “Is it alright if I use one of your bedrooms?”
“Absolutely. No charge for that, either. Your stuff’s right where you left it, I noticed it when I went upstairs this morning to see who was still around.”
The blue room was the same as the night before, minus the lamp. I found my phone on the bedspread and put it on the nightstand, then shook the contents of the lunch sack onto the mattress. She’d given me four good-sized rocks. I put three of them in the lockbox and went to work inventorying my supplies.
Chapter Six
My hearing came online first as I woke up in increments. There was music playing somewhere in the distance, too faint to make out the song. Next, I noticed the smell of the blanket covering me, which was musty and familiar. I knew I was in the blue room even before I pried open an eyelid and confirmed it.
The blanket fell away as I sat up and swung my feet off the bed. For some reason, I was dressed only in a pair of jeans. My head was pounding and I ached all over, as if I was getting the flu. Awesome.
I was craving a cigarette, but when I found my pack, it was empty. Odd, since I’d just bought it and normally, I only allowed myself two cigarettes a day. A glance at the overflowing ashtray on the floor told me that rule had gone straight to hell while I was wasted.
Eventually, I worked up the will to stand, only because I needed the bathroom. I shivered a bit as I trudged across the hall, and while I used the toilet, I propped myself up with my elbow on the wall beside me. When I went to wash my hands, I avoided looking at my reflection.
I figured Gracie wouldn’t mind if I used the shower to warm up, so I stripped off my jeans and briefs, got the water running, and turned the knob until it was as hot as I could stand it. After I climbed into the tub and pulled the curtain shut, I tilted my head back and let the water run over my hair, then rested my forehead against the tile. Gradually, some of my aches and pains began to ease, but my headache was relentless.
There was no question that I’d fucked up. I’d used more heroin than I’d intended, but I wasn’t sure how much. The last twenty-four hours were a blur. Actually, I didn’t even know if it had been twenty-four hours and had no idea if the sun was setting or rising outside the stained glass bathroom window.
When I finally shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, I realized there was nothing to dry myself with, apart from the tiny hand towel. I did the best I could with that, then dripped my way back across the hall, clothes in hand. For lack of a better idea, I used my ripped black dress shirt to finish toweling
off, then draped it over the upholstered chair in the corner to dry.
TJ’s gray T-shirt was on the floor, and I scooped it up and gave it a sniff to see if it was still wearable. It smelled like detergent and his clean, cozy apartment. I inhaled deeply before pulling it on.
Once I was dressed, I sat on the bed and eyed my supplies. It was so tempting to take another hit, given how awful I felt. Maybe just one more. I didn’t have to be anywhere. My next shift at the restaurant wasn’t until Tuesday, and it was only Sunday night. Or was it Monday morning? I picked up my phone to check, but the battery was dead.
There were three empty plastic bags on the nightstand, and when I tipped my lockbox and looked inside, I found four more. That didn’t make sense. I knew I’d discarded the empties from the previous weekend, so there should have been five, counting the one from Saturday night. I stared at the baggies through my headache and rubbed my arms. Even though the room was warm to the point of being stuffy, I felt cold again.
Seven hits in a day…actually more than seven, since she’d given me the pure stuff and I’d already learned one rock was way too much for a single dose. There was no way I could have done all that heroin. It would have killed me, no question.
I had done a lot though, that I knew, and my body was screaming for more. God, I wanted another hit. But that was not going to happen. I needed to get my shit together, recover from that binge, and eat something, because I was fucking starving.
I pocketed my phone and packed my supplies, then tossed the baggies in the bathroom’s trash can before heading downstairs. Gracie and Puck were in the parlor, strewn across the couch with her feet on his lap. An old-school boom box in the corner played some weird, new-agey ‘music’.
Even before she spoke, it was obvious they were both pretty out of it. She’d been singing the praises of LSD lately, and apparently they’d been sampling the merchandise. “Hey,” she said when she saw me. “How you doing, sweetness?”