Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  “Are you okay, Gertie?”

  She sighed. “I’m fine. I’m just … really hurting. Everything aches no matter what I do.”

  His face got serious. “Do you need painkillers, honey?”

  She hated him calling her that because she also loved it. “Too dangerous,” she whispered. “I think they gave me something while I was out. That was enough. I don’t want to chance more.”

  “If you’re hurting -”

  “No,” she said, stronger. “I gotta stay away from that stuff. You know that.”

  He shifted closer, his hand close to her face so his thumb could trail down her cheek. “I am so worried about you. I hate that you’re hurting so much. That you were alone.”

  Gertie let him touch her. She closed her eyes - well her good eye anyway, a small smile sneaking past her shitty self-control. “Is that guilt?”

  No answer, so she opened her good eye to see him nodding, face stern. “Of course it’s guilt. I should’ve looked out for you.”

  “There’s no way for you to know they were coming,” She pointed out, letting him trail his fingers down her neck, tracing along her collarbone. She should tell him to stop but she didn’t want him to.

  “You were right,” he said softly. “We needed time apart, to see what was important.”

  “Buck -”

  “No, you were absolutely right. Because when I came into your apartment and saw you …” he took a deep breath and it was shaky. “I thought you were dead. Jesus, Gertie. It almost killed me.”

  Gertie’s eyes watered again. “You’re going to make me cry.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to say it. You mean it all to me, Gertie. And more.” He took her hand again, careful of the IV, kissing her knuckles. “I hope you’re ready for it, because I want you. Nothing matters from before now, except the moments I had you. Those matter more than anything else. I shouldn’t have turned my back -”

  “No,” she stopped him, squeezing his hand. “That was right. That was what I needed. I had to stop depending on people and … substances. You were just as bad for me as that other shit.”

  He smiled at that, lowering their hands, fingers linked, to the mattress. “I’ve missed you,” he said in all seriousness.

  “I missed you too.”

  Their eye contact was intense, honest, comfortable. Suddenly he rose to his full height and leaned over her to press a kiss to her temple, where the bandage left a bit of skin open. “Get some sleep. Get better so I can take you out of here. Okay?”

  Gertie nodded, swallowing another flare of emotion before she could start weeping. It hurt too much to do it. “Okay,” she said agreeably, trying for a smile and probably failing.

  He again ran his hand down her cheek gently then leaned back in his seat.

  “You don’t have to sit with me,” she informed him, smoothing a hand over the blanket on her belly. “I can’t imagine how boring this must be for you.”

  “I’ve missed you,” he repeated forcefully. “This is exactly what I want to be doing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  -ELEVEN MONTHS AGO-

  “Oh, Jesus. Blade. Blade!”

  Buck rolled his eyes, gazing up the back of the redhead currently riding him reverse cowgirl. She was brand new. She was enthusiastic, so he’d let the wrong name thing go. It was the hair he’d picked her for anyway.

  It was long, tickled his stomach when she moved. But it was in waves, thick and full, with lots of dark brown and blonde to it. Her ass was heart-shaped and so perfect it made him bite his lip. So this was how he asked her to do it, just so he could think of someone else for a while.

  “Holy shit that’s good!” she gasped out, falling still. He felt her body quiver, raising his eyebrows. Holy shit is right – she actually got off on that.

  With a tight grip he pulled up on her hips and then slammed her back onto him repeatedly, thrusting up to meet her, until his own release hit. His back bowed, fingers sinking into her hips, and he let out a deep bellow. Usually he’d just ask the girls to suck him off, but when he saw this new girl she reminded him so much of Gertie he had to go for full service.

  She gave a moan of deep satisfaction and swung off of him, standing naked next to the bed. The ass was good, but she lacked in the hips and chest. She was more of a rail straight on, but pretty all in all. She leaned over and kissed his cheek with a grin, then bounced her limber little self towards the washroom.

  With a groan Buck got rid of the rubber and was about to climb back into bed when a knock came at the door, frantic and hard, accommodated with his name being shouted through the panel. He grabbed his jeans, stepped into them, and headed to the door while zipping and buttoning up.

  On the other side of the door was Harlon “Tiny” Gray. Harlon was a Rouser like Knuckles. At the moment, Tiny didn’t look his usual calm self. He was in jeans with no shirt like Buck was, he hadn’t even pulled on boots. He was scratching the back of his neck and his steel-blue eyes were wide.

  “It’s Ellen,” he said simply. “It’s … ahh shit. I don’t know what to do.” Tiny was steady as a rock and didn’t get rattled, and he looked rattled right then.

  Buck stuffed his feet into his boots and followed Tiny down the motel walkway two doors. Tiny’s room was open, and Buck caught that the lamps were all on throughout the space. There was an ashtray on the nightstand, which was weird since Tiny didn’t smoke. But maybe Ellen did?

  The bathroom light was also on, and a woman’s leg was trailing off the bathroom tile onto the carpet of the room.

  Ellen had collapsed, complaining of not feeling well, and she was out of it. Tiny was muttering how he couldn’t get through to her and her eyes were all dilated. Buck fell to his knees next to the alarmingly pale and naked woman on the tiles, rolling her to her back and holding her chin. Her arm flopped to the side, a purple bruise on the inside bend. It was an old wound, but he held the arm up, looking over his shoulder at Tiny.

  The older man shrugged, one hand on the vanity. “I didn’t know she was using. Honest.”

  “This is old. What else was she taking?” Buck snapped.

  “She had Oxy tonight,” came a timid voice from the door. Both men turned and the new redhead that couldn’t get his name right flinched back, touching her hair, looking to Buck with wide eyes. “She told me. But … I didn’t think you could take too many of those.”

  “Of course you can take too many,” Buck muttered, pulling Ellen up to a sitting position. “Get the garbage can,” he barked out at Tiny, who was already on it. The plastic can was placed between her legs and he bent her over it. “I’m gonna make her puke.”

  Tiny was nodding, pulling her stringy blonde hair back out of her face. Buck shoved his fingers into her mouth, down her throat, and felt her body quake as the gag reflex kicked in. He pulled his hand free, unable to avoid getting vomit all down his arm, but he held her up while her stomach evacuated everything she’d eaten that day.

  “There we go,” he mumbled, waiting for the deluge to stop. “You got anything else in your stomach, Ellen?” he asked loudly.

  “I only … just the one.”

  “What?” He leaned over her shoulder. “Say that again, sweetheart?”

  “I just took one,” she whimpered, leaning back, her head lolling to his shoulder. “Don’t … don’t tell Jayce. Please, Buck. Don’t tell Trinny.”

  Buck looked up at Tiny. “She just took one?”

  Tiny shook his head. “Nah, man. She was way too out of it.”

  “Where’d she get it?” Buck asked the redhead. What the fuck was her name, anyway?

  Red shrugged. “She never said. You think there was something wrong with it?”

  Buck jerked his head towards the bedroom. “Go through her shit,” he instructed. “Bring me whatever you find.”

  Tiny was helping Ellen to her feet, her legs unsteady, pulling her to the vanity to run some water and help the girl clean her face and rinse her mouth. Buck turned to the bathtub
and ran the water to wash his hand and arm off.

  “Who’s selling prescription drugs in Markham?” Buck asked. “I thought that was strictly a city thing.”

  “I don’t know, man,” Tiny answered, shooting him a quick look. “It’s out there, though.”

  Buck turned off the water and dried off, sighing. “Shit, Jayce is gonna be pissed.”

  “Don’t tell him!” Ellen sputtered loudly, coming around a little bit.

  They ignored her. “She’s gonna be alright, right?” Red asked, holding out a small baggie with a few orange pills inside.

  “What’s that?” Buck asked, taking the bag. “Oxy isn’t orange. Usually white. The Canadian shit’s green.”

  “I don’t know. That’s what she had.”

  “She probably just took their word for it on what it was,” Tiny said with a grunt, picking Ellen up in both arms. “I’ll let her sleep in my bed. I’ll crash at the clubhouse.” He nodded at Red. “Will you stay with her tonight?”

  “Sure,” Red answered immediately, so agreeable.

  “Good,” Tiny said with a nod, carrying the blonde past new girl and putting her down on the mattress, covering her up.

  Buck took Red by the arm, holding up the bag. “If you hear where this came from, or you see any more of this, you’ll let me know. Right?”

  “Of course,” she whispered. “You have my word, Blade.”

  From the chair where he was pulling on his boots Tiny cackled, such a strange sound considering what they’d just done. “Who the fuck is Blade?” he asked.

  Red looked from Tiny to him, confused. “That’s not your name?”

  Buck smiled. “Don’t worry honey. I have no idea what your name is, either.”

  Buck and Tiny headed for the clubhouse, catching Knuckles and Mickey in an intense game of pool. Richie and Fritter were both getting blow jobs; Fritter on the sofa and Richie standing in the hallway leading to the washrooms. That was an indication that Trinny and Jayce had left.

  “Where’s Tank?” Buck asked Knuckles, who was watching Mickey line up his next shot.

  “He went next door,” was Knuckles’ answer, grinning as Mickey scratched. “That new broad is dancing tonight. I think Tank might have a crush.”

  Buck held up the orange pills. “Any idea what this is?” he asked, shaking the baggie.

  Knuckles frowned, taking it and holding it up to the light for better inspection. “Shit. I have no idea.”

  “Ellen said she took one and hit the ground in my dorm,” Tiny said, leaning on the pool table with both arms. “I thought she was going to die.”

  Mickey came forward and grabbed the bag next. “You believe she only took one?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

  Tiny shrugged. “No reason for her to lie. She’s too out of it to really talk right now. The new girl’s with her.”

  “Oh yeah,” Knuckles drawled with a grin, knocking Buck’s shoulder. “How’d the new girl do?”

  Buck shrugged. “Fine, I guess. She’s enthusiastic.”

  “Never seen you claim tail so fast,” Mickey joined in, handing over the pills.

  “I wanna find out what these are,” Buck said to get them back on track. “I’m wondering if someone’s just peddling shit to make a few bucks in Markham. We gotta find them before people start getting really sick.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gertie hitched her purse higher on her shoulder after tucking her phone away. She cast her eyes around the group she stood with, waiting for the light to change. Regular working stiffs like her, on their lunch breaks. Gertie herself was on the lookout for a food truck. The public square was usually under attack by noon, so she was trying to decide what she wanted; Mexican or barbecue.

  The public square was flooded with people, most of them dressed for the office. Two fellows stood out though, and Gertie caught sight of them almost immediately. They were in dark, oversized jeans and tank tops, ball caps on backwards. They were the only people not dressed for an office job.

  They would only speak with their mouths close to each other’s ears like anything they were sharing had to be kept secret. And as she watched, too far away for them to notice her surveillance, a man in short sleeves, tie and slacks approached the two and there was a slick handshake before the business man walked away tucking something into his shirt pocket.

  Gertie looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this, but no one seemed to. They were all going for a slice of pizza or stir fry.

  Gertie checked her purse, pulling out her wallet and dragging a few bills out before approaching them herself. They caught sight of her and one turned in the opposite direction, the other eyeing her up and down while pulling a toothpick out of his mouth and grinning.

  “Well, hello,” he said in what was maybe supposed to be a charming tone. “How can I help you?”

  Gertie took a deep breath, checking over one shoulder, then turned back and asked. “What do you have?”

  He laughed at that, putting the toothpick back in his mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She kept her volume low. “Do you have weed?” She’d never done the buy before – everyone else brought shit to her condo and she tried it. She was totally out of her element.

  “You want weed? You know what happens to broads on weed, right?”

  She shook her head. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

  He worked that toothpick for a while, then nodded. “You gotta buy an eighth, though. Hundred bucks.”

  Gertie handed it over, surveying the crowd behind her as he pressed a baggie into her hand. She closed her fist and turned back to him, just in time to see him checking out her cleavage. She ignored it. “What else do you have?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  Gertie sighed and crossed her arms under her breasts, triggering his eyes back to them. “I might need something else one day. I want to know who to talk to.”

  He rubbed his chin, then grinned up at her, looking her in the eye again. “I got ice. H. And weed.”

  “Who has Oxy?” She didn’t know where that was coming from, but she’d heard it was fun to try.

  “I don’t have Oxy, but I can get it.” He took another step towards her. “Maybe I could come by, drop it off -”

  She backed up with a chuckle, her hand tucking the bundle of weed into her purse. “No thanks,” she said sunnily and headed off to get lunch.

  Mexican. She wanted Mexican.

  -oOo-

  Henri and Danielle were her ride once again. It was will-reading time, at her mother’s house, and Gertie wasn’t sure what drama had transpired with the lawyers to make this take so damn long, but she was willing to bet the will was done up a long time ago and was maybe out of date.

  Or, there wasn’t a will at all.

  Her mother’s home was in an incredible neighborhood, with long sprawling lawns and enough room to park another house between stucco palaces. And gates everywhere. Yes, her father had always provided well for the family and even though he’d been unfaithful, the mother of his children had never had to work a job or apply for low-income housing.

  But Genevieve couldn’t see past the end of her own nose.

  Gertie followed her brother on her heels up the walkway to the house. She’d kept her work clothes on and was wishing she’d insisted they take her home to change. It had been a long day after taking the previous week off, and her hangover hadn’t helped anything. She was feeling better in that regard, but all she wanted to do now was go to sleep.

  The family was assembled in the sitting room. Louis hugged Henri hello but only gave Gertie an elbow squeeze. Even Danielle got a kiss on the cheek. Whatever. If they couldn’t mature past the point of seeing that their father cheated on their mother and not the kids, she wouldn’t bother giving them any more of her precious energy.

  She crossed the sitting room and parked in a wingchair with spindly wooden legs. Her purse dropped to the floor next to her chair and she felt a sharp longing for the w
eed she’d bought. That would make everything so much more tolerable.

  The lawyer was an older, waxy-looking man with limp hair and nick on his cheek from shaving that morning. He stood at the front of the room with a file folder, smiling agreeably with everyone while keeping a respectful distance from them. He didn’t know them, they didn’t know him. But he was professionally sympathetic all the same.

  He cleared his throat once everyone was settled and the room hushed. He spoke in smooth dulcet tones, and the timbre of his voice instantly made him a smidgeon attractive. “Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Rodney Clarence, your mother’s attorney.” Which was funny; Gertie’s mother never needed an attorney until her husband divorced her. “The will is very simple, your mother obviously hadn’t been planning for this. But once her marital status changed she made a few revisions to her will which will stand up in court.”

  That was a weird statement that cocked Gertie’s eyebrow. Even though he was being an ass Louis still caught her look his way. He was the oldest, he was the one they’d all turn to. He was frowning too and simply shrugged.

  “Your mother wished her estate and belongings to be sold, the profits split between her three children: her two sons Louis Junior and Henri” – he said it very not-French which always sounded weird to Gertie – “and her daughter, Gertrude. This is to include all properties inside the house, vehicles and personal items.” He looked up at them now. “You are free to collect any items you might want to keep, of course. You’ll just have to work together if you do this.”

  “What about Dad?” Louis asked, coldly. “What’s he get?”

  The lawyer looked surprised. “Well, nothing. Everything that was hers to give she wanted to go to the three of you.”

  Louis nodded, appeased by that. Gertie felt a bit of anger bubble up. Even if everything was still in her father’s name, he wouldn’t take anything away from his children. And they shouldn’t give a shit about the money or the house or the artwork on the walls, they should be sad that their mother had died. Ungrateful bastards.