Follow Me Back

by A. Meredith Walters

  Until it was too late and my heart was so ensnared there was no turning back. But Compulsion had given me something I hadn’t known I had been looking for . . . an escape.

  And suddenly, I knew that’s where I needed to go.

  I just had to find out where the infamous club was located tonight. And it hit me that finding the picture would not only lead me to Compulsion, it could quite possibly answer the question that was eating away at my insides.

  I needed to know if Maxx was still around, doing the same things I had left him for.

  I needed closure, and hoped that the answers would finally allow me to move on once and for all, whatever those answers were.

  I started driving around aimlessly, looking into the darkened alleyways and on the sides of buildings, trying to find the elusive X’s handiwork.

  After almost an hour I was close to giving up. The knot in my stomach hadn’t eased, but I was forced to admit that it looked as though I wasn’t going to find what I sought.

  I pulled into a gas station to fill up my car. I had been driving long enough that I was dangerously low on fuel. I twisted the gas cap and lifted the nozzle off the lever.

  “Here,” a guy said, shoving a flyer into my hands before walking away to stick the papers in his hand under windshields.

  “Uh, thanks,” I said, crumpling the waste of trees in my hand. The bright colors and manic writing caught my attention before I could throw it away. I smoothed out the flyer on the hood of my car and could have laughed at the irony of this moment.

  The word Compulsion arched over the top of a reproduction of one of Maxx’s more elaborate paintings. At the bottom was an address that wasn’t too far from where I was.

  I had never seen the club distribute flyers before. That meant Maxx wasn’t painting his pictures.

  I thought about calling Renee, just to tell her what I planned on doing. I almost wanted someone to talk me off the ledge. To tell me that going to the club, the place where Maxx has indulged in the darkest parts of himself, was the dumbest thing I could do.

  But instead I stuck the flyer on my dashboard and headed toward an unknowable future.

  I ended up at the old Longwood Residential Center, which used to be a nursing home almost thirty years ago. The sprawling, rambling buildings were derelict and falling down in places. It looked condemned, which is why this location was perfect for the club.

  I was surprised by how close it was to the center of town. It was a bit more conspicuous than was usual for the underground scene. I got out of my car and was hit by a wave of déjà vu. The pounding bass could be heard in the distance. The dizzying wave of energy seemed to emanate from the building ahead of me.

  Groups of people moved forward, beckoned by the siren’s call of madness and illusion that Compulsion promised. I felt a momentary apprehension and thought briefly about getting back into my car and heading home. But I also felt the pull of the music. Of the knowledge that what lay inside was unlike anything I’d experience anywhere else. Though knowing how easy it would be to surrender myself didn’t provide the comfort it once had. But I was powerless against it all the same.

  The line wove in and out of the trees as one by one people were admitted or denied entry. The usual extremes were out in force, from the woman who seemed to be wearing plastic wrap and a bow tie, to the guy with his entire face covered in tattoos. Each person had done all they could to make it seem like they belonged. Because that’s exactly what they were searching for.

  Belonging.

  I looked down at my woefully inferior club attire and almost laughed. Once again, here I was, waiting to be let inside and dressed like a walking, talking J.Crew catalogue.

  But I joined the line anyway and waited my turn. I recognized Randy, the bouncer, and Marco, Maxx’s friend taking money at the door. I only hoped one or both recognized me. Though I couldn’t count on that. They encountered hundreds of people every night, and my interactions with Marco had been brief. I seriously doubted they’d remember me.

  I rolled the hem of my shirt, knotting it between my fingers in my sudden bout of nervousness. Why did I think this was a good idea?

  “Are you for real?” Randy barked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blinked, a little confused by his antagonism.

  “Excuse me?” I squeaked out.

  Randy pointed at my gender-neutral ensemble. “You can’t come in wearing that shit,” he growled, the words getting lost in the growth of his beard.

  “Let her in. I need to talk to her,” Marco cut in, stepping in front of Randy and waving me past.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, looking up at Marco. I offered a smile, which died a sad little death as I took in the irritation on his face. Was that directed at me? What had I done?

  “Cover for me for a few minutes,” he told Randy, who only nodded. Marco looked back down at me, his eyes hooded in the darkness, the metal in his lip and eyebrow gleaming in the dismal lighting. He didn’t just look irritated. He looked pissed.

  And more than a little scary.

  He wrapped his hand around my upper arm and all but dragged me into the club. The music jarred my bones as I was pushed into a dark alcove off from the dance floor.

  I tried to wiggle free of Marco’s pincerlike grasp, but he wasn’t letting go.

  “You’re hurting me!” I protested, straining to be heard over the thumping bass.

  “Where is he?” Marco shouted in my face.

  His question caught me off guard.

  “What?” I asked.

  “X, or Maxx, whatever he’s calling himself. Where the fuck is he? There are people, serious people, who are looking for him.” Marco glowered at me, as if I was the one responsible for Maxx’s MIA status.

  “How would I know?” I argued, though Marco’s questions gave me some of the confirmation I had been looking for.

  Maxx wasn’t here. He hadn’t been in some time.

  And even though it still didn’t answer the question of where he had gone, I could at least be comforted in the knowledge that he hadn’t gone back to this.

  Marco gave my arm a little shake. “Because he’s been stuck up your ass for months. I knew he was pulling back because of you. I know the signs of pussy-whipped when I see it. Now, where the hell did that little fuck disappear to?”

  Remembering some old-school self-defense, I stepped on Marco’s foot and gave him a hearty shove in the center of his chest, causing him to fall backward and let go of my arm.

  I rubbed the throbbing skin and took a few steps away from him.

  “Don’t ever grab me like that again! I don’t know where the hell Maxx is!” I seethed, wincing as my fingers ran over obviously bruised flesh. But clearly my indignation overruled my fear of this scary-looking man.

  Gazing around, I didn’t experience the energetic rush that I used to have. Compulsion wasn’t the mysterious and seductive world it had once been. I didn’t care about the pounding beat or the promise of surrender that lay beyond me.

  Instead, the place just seemed dark and terrifying. Without Maxx, without his enigmatic but constant presence, it felt cold and lonely. The people swaying to the frantic beat looked desperate and delusional. This place was a lie that they couldn’t see.

  It wasn’t an escape. It was a trap. Because none of it was real.

  This was the mask that hid an ugly reality. One that had almost killed Maxx.

  One that had almost destroyed me.

  Marco advanced on me and once again invaded my personal space. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here. I’m just the guy trying to keep your boyfriend in one piece. Because I can tell you, if he doesn’t show up soon, there are certain individuals who would like nothing better than to mess up that pretty face of his,” Marco warned, and I was relieved when he didn’t touch me again.

  I pressed myself against the brick, wondering about the chances I had if I kneed him in the balls and ran for it.

  Marco braced one hand on the wall beside my head and leaned i
n close. I could smell the stale cigarettes and mint gum on his breath. It made me faintly nauseous.

  “I’ve watched his back for years. And what do I get for it? My ass in a sling. You tell him he owes me. More than he realizes,” Marco said in a low voice. I felt a shiver of alarm.

  Marco brushed my hair away from my neck and leaned in close. “He’s put a lot on the line for you. I hope you’re fucking worth it,” he whispered before pushing himself away from the wall.

  I stood paralyzed in the darkened corner. Coming to Compulsion had been a very bad idea.

  My feet wouldn’t move. I was trembling so badly that I thought I’d fall over. Finally, after I was able to walk without wobbling, I inched my way into the large, open room where the club was in full swing. The lights flashed madly, creating a strobe effect. It made me feel as though I were walking in slow motion.

  My eyes scanned the crowd, but I didn’t recognize anyone.

  I didn’t feel like dancing. I didn’t feel like getting lost in the throng of moving bodies that pressed around me.

  I was done with the whole damn thing.

  The mystique of this world was lost on me now that I saw it for what it really was. And in some small way and in spite of my run-in with Marco, it made the entire trip out here worth it.

  The tantalizing taste of closure was there, just within reach. And I finally felt strong enough to grab it.

  And it was time for me to get the hell out of there.

  Before I could make my way through the crowd, someone knocked into me. I lurched forward, my hands coming out in front of me as I collided with the very hard floor.

  And just like the first time I had come to Compulsion, I feared that I was two seconds away from being trampled to death.

  I was grabbed rather viciously by the arm and yanked to my feet. A far cry from the gentle hands that had helped me once before.

  I fumbled to find my footing and then was brutally pushed. I stumbled again and would have fallen if not for my renewed sense of balance. I peered into the murky darkness and recoiled when I caught sight of the last people I ever wanted to see.

  April and Evan, the maladjusted couple from the addictions support group, stared back at me. April half smirking, half guilty. Evan sneering and hateful.

  I started to back away, not wanting any sort of confrontation, but found that I was boxed in by swaying dancers.

  “All alone tonight, huh?” Evan shouted, the light flickering in his soulless eyes. His hand was wrapped around his girlfriend’s wrist like an iron snare.

  “What?” I asked, realizing I was saying that a lot this evening. I felt the prickling of instinct telling me to run. Evan gave off the aura of someone who delighted in hurting others. And for some reason, since day one, he had taken a particular dislike to me.

  Evan let go of April and leaned in close. I tried to back away, but was again met by a wall of bodies. “Your boyfriend, Maxx. Where is he? I haven’t seen him around for a while, and I have some business to take care of with him.” I blinked in shock. Did everyone have freaking business with Maxx? He sure did get around.

  And then I realized exactly what Evan was asking me.

  Shit.

  He knew.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I denied, shouting over the music. Evan bent his head until his lips were right next to my ear, and I shuddered in revulsion.

  “I knew you were nothing but a slut. You should have thought about who you were spreading those pretty legs for. A lot of bad shit can happen if you’re not careful. But you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you? People just aren’t very understanding when it comes to certain relationships.”

  I reared back as if Evan had hit me. He watched me with a sadistic joy, licking his lips and leering at me.

  April had disappeared into the crowd, and I felt as though I was alone with Evan, even though we were surrounded.

  Realization dawned on me. And I knew exactly who had told Kristie about Maxx and me. And it wasn’t Brooks. I had been wrong about that one.

  “Watch your back, bitch. I’ve got your number.” Evan hurled his words like a weapon, every syllable a clear and undeniable threat.

  Using my elbows, I pushed my way through the crowd even harder. Without slowing down, I ran all the way back to my car, not sure I had gotten the closure I was looking for.

  chapter

  six

  aubrey

  i had always been a dedicated student. I was the weirdo who enjoyed writing research papers and staying up until four in the morning cramming for an exam. But my passion, my enthusiasm, for counseling, my chosen career path, had waned.

  Knowing that the people who had championed you were questioning your dedication and abilities had a way of shaking you up. I sat in Dr. Lowell’s office one weekday afternoon, waiting for her to finish with her class so we could have our first one-on-one meeting since I had received my official reprimand.

  I was dreading it.

  I looked around her familiar space, noting how different my feelings were about being here than they used to be. I still felt nothing but respect for my adviser, but there was an awkward tension that had never been there before. Nothing like ruining someone’s perception of you to fuck up a relationship.

  I fixed the wide cuff bracelet on my wrist, fingering the engraved silver. The small infinity symbols were rough on my skin, and I wondered what had possessed me to wear that particular piece of jewelry this morning.

  I remembered how excited Jayme had been to give it to me for my sixteenth birthday. She had been working all summer at the local frozen custard stand to save up for this present. We had been at the mall almost six months before, and I had seen the cuff bracelet in the window of a small shop. I had loved it, but when I saw the price tag, I knew there was no way I could afford it.

  So Jayme, who was only fourteen, had taken it upon herself to make sure I had it. That was the way we had been together. We would have gone to the ends of the earth for each other. We never fought. We were best friends. Which is why it had hurt so much when all of that had changed.

  Because eventually, and rather suddenly, our relationship had soured and she had stopped caring what I thought about anything. Strangely, over the last month, it had become easier to remember the good times with Jayme rather than wallowing in the bad memories. I still felt her loss as acutely as ever—that was the sort of pain that never really went away. But somehow, I had started to readjust my mind to allow for more room to focus on the happy memories. After everything with Maxx, I realized that concentrating only on the negative would slowly destroy me. I had experienced more than enough destruction for one lifetime. I needed to reacquaint myself with the better parts of my past.

  I smiled as I thought about the way Jayme’s eyes sparkled as I unwrapped the gift. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still hear her laugh when I tried it on and did a dorky little dance in my excitement.

  My mom had taken our picture as we hugged, and then my dad had called us into the kitchen to eat some cake. Mom had ordered my favorite, chocolate buttercream with raspberry filling.

  Mom had framed that picture and given it to me a few weeks later. I had left it behind when I had gone to Longwood, thinking rather idiotically that by leaving it at home I could escape the memories.

  Now I wished I had brought it with me. I had purposefully not taken any pictures of family when I had left. Remembering it now, I knew I had been incredibly shortsighted. I realized what I wanted, more than anything, was to look at my sister’s face again and to remember her for the way she was before the drugs. Before Blake.

  Before having to identify her body on that cold morgue table.

  That birthday had been significant in so many ways. It was the last one I remembered where my family was happy together. That September when school started, Jayme met Blake, and nothing would ever be the same again. I hadn’t picked up on the subtle changes in Jayme’s personality that now, looking back, I could
see so clearly. Hindsight and all that. But for that moment, things had been perfect. And it was that moment I was content to focus on now.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Dr. Lowell’s voice took me out of my memories and threw me solidly back into the present.

  I sat up a little straighter in my chair and smoothed my skirt nervously before tucking my hair behind my ears.

  “No. Not long,” I said, lying. I had been there for over twenty minutes already. But no sense in pointing that out.

  Dr. Lowell acknowledged my answer with a nod. She made herself a cup of coffee, and I noted how she didn’t offer me one. This one tiny omission hit me hard. It epitomized everything that had changed between Dr. Lowell and me. She walked around her desk and sat down in her chair, reaching for a manila file that sat on top of a stack of papers.

  There was no polite exchange of pleasantries. No easy chitchat or questions about my week. Only cold silence and grim anticipation. I picked at the skin around my fingernails anxiously, unable to curb the obsessive tic. Habits were hard to break. I knew that only too well.

  After a few minutes, Dr. Lowell looked up from the folder and pushed up the glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She smiled. A tight caricature of what I was used to from her.

  “How are you?” she asked gruffly.

  I blinked a few times, wondering how honest I should be with the woman who had been my mentor. Dr. Lowell crossed her hands in front of her and leaned forward. “You look as though you haven’t been sleeping,” she observed.

  I cleared my throat and twirled the bracelet on my wrist as though it were a talisman of some sort. And strangely, it did help calm my twisting stomach.

  “I haven’t been, really,” I admitted, having a difficult time making eye contact.

  “And you’ve lost weight,” Dr. Lowell continued, her hawkish eyes taking in every detail. She was entirely too observant for my peace of mind.

  I cleared my throat again, wishing I had a glass of water. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said.