by Jamie Zakian
“Oh, I know. You’re just trying to distract me so I don’t notice you sneaking off with this.” Roxy picked the needle off the mattress, waved it in Sasha’s face. “You want this shit?” She gathered the blackened spoon and rubber strap, shoved them along with the needle into its leather pouch. “Take it.”
Sasha stared at the little brown pouch which Roxy was practically thrusting in her face. It had to be a test. She’d know by the look in Roxy’s eyes, except her gaze couldn’t part from the pouch.
“Go on, take it.”
Before Roxy could finish her sentence, Sasha snatched the leather pouch. Once it was safe in her grip, she looked at Roxy. The woman just sat there, holding a blank stare.
“Do your thing,” Roxy said, crossing her arms.
The metal zipper dug into Sasha’s thumb as she squeezed the pouch. “You think I won’t ‘cause you’re watching?”
Roxy shrugged, and Sasha pulled open the zipper. She dumped the pouch onto the bed. Everything tumbled out in a neat little pile, except the bag of drugs.
Sasha threw the empty pouch at Roxy. “Where’s the stuff?”
“What stuff?”
A deep breath, a tight jaw clenching. Sasha tried everything to stop the uninvited rage within her chest from building. It was useless. Her fingers trembled, a red haze crept over her vision, and the throb of her temples pounded in her ears.
“Girl,” Sasha yelled, her shout flinching Roxy’s shoulders. “Now is not the time to fuck with me.”
“Sasha—”
“Where’s the shit?” A rush of fury surged inside Sasha, blazing hot enough to singe her skin. She had to let it out, before the fires within scorched her insides to dust.
Sasha gripped onto the edge of the nightstand. Her nails scraped wood as she flipped the table over. A lamp shattered on the dirty floor, and Roxy cried out. The sound of Roxy’s whimper spiked Sasha’s temper. To hear her girl scream in terror infuriated Sasha beyond the point of control. Before she could stop herself, she was on the bed straddling Roxy. Without permission, her arm raised and she rocked the back of her hand across Roxy’s cheek.
“No, Sasha. Don’t!”
Roxy’s shriek, the tears, didn’t register with Sasha. All she could see, think about was that bag of heroin. She could almost taste its sticky sweetness on her tongue.
“Where is it?” Sasha ripped open Roxy’s jacket, catching sight of a plastic baggie’s edge between Roxy’s breasts. She yanked the bag from Roxy’s bra and jumped off the bed.
The needle and spoon had fallen to the floor, and Sasha dropped beside them. Her hands went right to work, despite their violent quake.
“You said you wouldn’t change,” Roxy choked out between sobs, curling into a ball on the bed.
Sasha wrapped the rubber strap around her arm, pulled it tight with her teeth. Virgin veins popped up on her arm, and she jammed the needle into the biggest one. Once a warmth flowed through her body, quelling the fiery chill that circulated beneath her flesh, she could finally breathe.
“You made me do that,” Sasha slurred, blinking back a fuzzy haze. “You shouldn’t fuck around with shit like that.” She kept her stare low, away from the soft cries that erupted from the bed.
“No.” Roxy wept. “You’re gone.”
Sasha tried to stand, but her legs were too heavy. Instead, she crawled toward the bed, pulled herself onto the mattress, and curled beside Roxy. “I’m sorry, doll.” She draped her arm over Roxy’s heaving shoulder, and its shudder intensified. “I’ll never hit you again, I swear. You just…can’t fuck around. All right, girl.”
Roxy buried her face in Sasha’s chest, held Sasha tight. “I won’t do this again. I can’t. I ruined you.”
“You didn’t ruin shit.” Sasha kissed the top of Roxy’s head. If it weren’t for the tingles nipping at her flesh, and the slow drag of her vicious thoughts, she’d feel like shit. How she loved heroin for taking away her ability to feel. “Just…no more fucking around.”
“I won’t do this.” Roxy kissed Sasha. Her soft lips trembled as they pressed against Sasha’s mouth, but Sasha couldn’t move. Her entire body was numb.
“Goodbye,” Roxy whispered, her breath tingling Sasha’s skin.
Sasha pulled Roxy closer, held as tight as her weak arms would allow. “You’re not going anywhere.”
A dark fuzz had stolen the blur that was Roxy’s face, and Sasha closed her eyes. Between the nods of dreamless sleep, she heard Roxy’s voice echo, “See you on the other side.”
Chapter Six
Sasha rolled onto her side. The mattress beneath her squealed, and her eyes shot open. “No more shitty motels,” she muttered, sitting up. Roxy’s arm slid off her back, thumped to the mattress. Not a sound flowed from the woman behind Sasha, nor did a rustle erupt from the scratchy sheets.
“Roxy?” Sasha looked over her shoulder, and the first thing she saw was a needle sticking out of a badly scabbed arm. “Roxy!”
Sasha grabbed onto Roxy’s hand, gasping at the feel of ice-cold skin. “No.” She pulled the needle from Roxy’s arm, tossed it to the floor. Roxy’s head rolled to the side, and empty eyes stared at Sasha.
“No.” She fell atop Roxy’s chest, hugging the stiff body tight.
Two fresh puncture wounds sat side by side on the still arm in front of Sasha, an empty baggie propped up just beyond. Roxy was a pro, knew exactly how much to boot and when. This overdose had been intentional. Roxy fucking killed herself.
“Why did you do this?” Sasha rose to her knees, latched onto Roxy’s shirt, and shook. “Why?”
A rattle of air burst from Roxy’s mouth, and Sasha yelped. She jumped off the bed, tripping over the phone. Her eyes were stuck on Roxy’s blank stare, but her fingers dialed the operator.
“I need help,” Sasha said the moment the line connected. “This is Sasha Lazzari.” She fumbled with the crap strewn across the floor, from the nightstand she had toppled earlier, in search of something that would tell her where the fuck she was. Under a food wrapper, beside a broken alarm clock, she found the room key.
“The Roosevelt, room eighteen.” She hung up the phone, even though a slew of frantic words rambled through its receiver.
Sasha climbed back onto the bed and pulled Roxy onto her lap. “I did this. I did this to you. I…” She kissed Roxy, breathed in the woman’s sweet scent. “Please come back. I’m sorry I hit you. Just, please. Come back.”
***
Darkness had swallowed the light outside the window, leaving Sasha in shadows. Women screamed, babies cried somewhere outside this motel room, but Sasha didn’t move from the bed. She couldn’t let go of Roxy. The woman’s body had grown so stiff it cracked with every slight movement, so Sasha stopped moving.
It wasn’t until a thin beam of bright light cut across the floor, blocking the city’s glow from the window, that Sasha looked up from Roxy’s pale skin. A cop walked into the room, making the faded wood beneath his heavy boots creak.
“My girl’s not supposed to have such pale skin,” Sasha said, caressing Roxy’s icy cheek. “Her skin is the coolest brown, like the cliffs of the iron mountains.”
The cop stepped beside the bed, placed his hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “We have to get you out of here, Ms. Lazzari. Back to Fat Tonys, where you’ve been all night.”
Sasha looked up at the man, his badge shimmering in the hallway’s harsh light. “Nice try, asshole. But I’ve heard that one before.”
“I know about what happened to you,” the cop said, kneeling down to stare into Sasha’s eyes. “About the traitors who turned you over to the Mancini family. Your friends in the blue circle took care of those two rats, permanently. You can trust us.” He gestured to his partner in the doorway, a young man practically swimming in his ridiculous uniform.
“What about Roxy?” Sasha looked down at her girl. She was lying stiff like a gruesome mannequin in her arms.
“We’ll take good care of her.” The cop took Sasha by the hand, gui
ded her off the bed. Her fingers glided through Roxy’s thick curls before her girl fell to the mattress, sinking into shadows.
On her way to the door, the needle bumped the tip of Sasha’s boot. “My shit.” She dropped to her knees, pawed the dark floor for the small leather pouch.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked the younger cop beside the door as he kicked the pouch with its rubber strap peeking out the top into the light.
Sasha grabbed the needle, then crawled toward the pouch. She shoved the syringe inside, a clink of metal ringing out when the glass tube hit the spoon.
“Thanks,” she said, keeping her eyes low as she rose to her feet.
This time, before Sasha allowed two men to usher her toward a possible torturous fate, she looked her dead friend in the face. A gray film had covered Roxy’s deep brown eyes. It was horrible, a mistake. She shouldn’t have looked back. Now she’d remember, for the next beautiful person she killed, to never look back.
***
Leather crinkled as Sasha squirmed in the back of a police car. The steel cage in front of her, the backs of clean-cut heads on the other side, brought her right back to that night. Her stomach twisted, chest clenched. She had to get just one hit, then these men could slice the rest of her body to pieces.
“Take me to 127th and Malcolm X,” she said, clutching the pouch tight.
“That’s Harlem,” the younger cop said from the passenger seat.
“Why don’t I just take you to Fat Tonys first?” the driver said, shifting in his seat. “Then—”
“No.” Sasha banged on the cage. “Just let me out here.”
“It’s cool.” The cop behind the wheel hit the brakes, turned the car around. “I’ll take you to 127th.”
Tall, bright buildings gave way to dark lines of tightly packed rowhomes, and Sasha’s foot tapped the metal floor. It felt like ants made of sharp metal had crawled beneath her skin. Every inch of her body burned, even though a chill clung to her bones. Why was this car ride so long? Why did the city have to be so fucking big?
“Here,” Sasha said, the second they passed Roxy’s favorite diner. “This is good. I can walk from here.”
Brakes squealed as the cop steered the cruiser to the side of the road. “What should I tell Mr. Lazzari?”
“Don’t tell him shit.” Sasha pulled the handle, thanking God the door opened. “You never saw me.” She climbed out of the car, shut the door, and knelt beside the passenger window. “Thanks, for not being treacherous douchebags.”
***
Dez
Dez stared at the phone on the kitchen wall. Seven o’clock on a Friday night. Vinny would probably be at Fat Tonys, and Sasha…Dez took a step back to peek through the kitchen door, into the living room. Sasha should be in that room, cuddled up with Tyler on the sofa. Not his wife, though. His wife was most likely trolling dirty streets with some skank. He should’ve bashed Sasha upside the head and dragged that bitch home, caveman style. Instead, he took his kid and ran for the hills to hide with his tail between his legs.
Back to the phone Dez’s gaze went, his fingers drumming his side. “Fuck it,” he said, walking out of the kitchen. He shouldn’t give a shit what Sasha was doing, what she was thinking, how she felt at this very moment. He wouldn’t care. His heart, all his thoughts, belonged to Tyler. If he told himself that enough times, it would become true…eventually.
***
Sasha
The walk three blocks to the only buy house Sasha knew seemed to take an eternity, especially without Roxy at her side chattering about soap operas. It was sad. Sasha was more familiar with some fictional Ewing family than the woman she’d been fucking for the last month. That had to make her disgusting, or pathetic. Definitely self-centered. One thing it made her, for certain, was walk faster down the fucking sidewalk.
Her boot landed on the first step of Reid’s apartment building, and a scrawny dude crept from the alley beside the stairs.
“What you want?” he asked, his hoodie cloaking his dark skin.
“I’m looking for Reid,” Sasha said, groaning as her neck twitched without permission.
The guy eyed her over then stepped back into the alley. “Whatcha looking for?”
Sasha followed the man in the shadows. “Twenty.” She patted her back pockets, finding only a crushed pack of smokes. “Fuck!” She’d put her money in Roxy’s purse, for safe keeping. It was real fucking safe now, fucking safe and goddamn useless in an evidence bag.
Sasha pushed strands of tangled hair from her face, her fingers shaking. The burn in her stomach whirled faster, taking her into a hunch. “Look.” She stared at the bag dangling between the dude’s fingers, a tiny black ball glimmering in the streetlight. “I’m good for it.”
Itchy, God she was so itchy. Something was crawling all over her, slithering beneath her skin. She scratched her arm, neck, head, but the prickles kept spreading. “Reid knows me,” she damn near shouted, shrinking down from her own loud voice.
The guy scooped the bag into his palm, closed his fist tight, and Sasha took a deep breath. She had to get that bag. Every dumb motherfucker within a one-mile radius would be sorry if she didn’t get that fucking bag.
“Okay,” she said through gritted teeth, staring at the blank eyes in front of her. “I just watched my girl die, and I lost my fucking money. I can go get you twenty bucks, bring it right back, but I need a fucking hit first.” Her finger trembled as she pointed it in the guy’s stone-cold face. “Reid knows me. If he gets back before me, just tell him it was the crazy white bitch. He’ll know who you’re talking about.”
“All right.” The guy backed deeper into the alleyway, waved Sasha toward him. Sasha glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting a twenty-dollar bill to float past her face. It didn’t. So she followed the shady man into the dark crevasse between two run-down brick buildings.
“I’ll give you this bag, but you gotta do something for me,” he said over the sound of a zipper.
Sasha looked down to see a big, veiny cock in the man’s hand. A bit of vomit crept up the back of her throat, her muscles almost too stiff to move. “Fuck,” she yelled, rocking in place. She really needed that bag.
“You know what to do, girl,” he said, one hand stroking his wide dick and the other balled into a fist.
“Yeah. Okay.” Sasha dropped to her knees on the dirty, cracked concrete. Icy water soaked through her jeans, but she could barely feel it. She was desperate. Her hand slid down her leg, into her boot. All she could think about was that tiny ball of tar, locked inside that disgusting man’s fist. The metal handle of a switchblade grazed her fingertips, just as the man’s giant cock neared her lips. She pulled the knife from her boot. Its double-edged blade flipped out with the press of a button, and she jumped to her feet.
Yeah, she was desperate for that hit. Not enough to suck strange dick, though. But she definitely wasn’t above gutting this motherfucker to get what she wanted.
The man stumbled to the side. His back hit the damp wall as he fumbled with his pants, and Sasha jabbed her blade into his side six times. Kidney shots, quick with slight twists. It was an effective method, one she learned about while eavesdropping during her short stay in a prison infirmary. The guy gagged on the spurts of blood erupting from his mouth, swayed on his feet, but the hand holding the heroin remained clenched.
“Why won’t you die?” Sasha plunged her blade into the side of the guy’s neck, bringing him to the ground. Finally, his hand broke free, and Sasha snatched the baggie from it. She should run across the street, to an alley without a man she murdered in it, but her shaky legs wouldn’t budge.
“Real quick,” she said, kneeling beside the puddle of blood that oozed from the body right next to her. “Just one little hit, then I’ll roll.”
Although her hands quaked beyond control, Sasha held the spoon steady. A little bit of non-bloody water from the alley, a pinch of black tar in a spoon, and a lighter flick later, the frost that threatened to
solidify her body melted. Black smoke wafted up as the tar cooked. Its thick syrupy scent stuck in Sasha’s nose and she retched, dry-heaving whatever bile was in her stomach onto the ground.
“Fucking fuck,” she muttered, wrapping the rubber strap around her arm. She’d never felt so bad, so raw. Not even when her metal cot tore her skin did it hurt this bad. Her vision blurred as she brought the needle to the spoon. Its tip clanked metal, and the haze of an amber pool in the spoon disappeared. The tube of the syringe was now so heavy and warm in her hand. It forced her heart to pound the wall of her chest.
The syringe looked a little full, felt too heavy, but there was no time. A blue vein shined in the dim light of the alleyway, and Sasha slid the needle into it. Somehow, she missed the mark—the giant, bulging, almost glowing blue mark. “Stupid idiot,” she said, her teeth clamped down on the rubber strap. After two more pricks, the tug of a needle’s sharp tip snagged her vein and she pressed the plunger.
A warm rush stole Sasha’s breath. She slumped against the wall, closed her eyes in attempts to slow the world’s sudden spin. The waves of heated tingles didn’t stop flowing, and the weight dragging her down only got heavier.
“Too much,” she said, hurrying to gather the tools of her survival. She managed to shove everything back in its pouch and tuck it into her waistband before the last of her strength fled her body. She dropped face down on the trash-covered ground. A giggle slipped past her lips, pushed out by a surge of white-hot ecstasy. She’d found it. Her eyes drifted to a close, shut away the tiny red dots that swirled in the darkness. She’d finally found that high, just like the first one Roxy showed her.
Chapter Seven
Soft hands held Sasha tight, caressed her cheek, tangled into her hair. She couldn’t see any faces, hear any voices. It didn’t matter whose hands they were; the feeling was what mattered. Those smooth palms gliding along her body brought warmth, love. As long as they touched her, she would be safe. A burn shot through Sasha’s shoulder. She cried out from the sharp barbs of pain, and the hands that comforted her drifted away. Don’t forget your skin, a silky voice echoed inside Sasha’s head.
