Eighteen Months

by Giulia Napoli

  When I got there, thankfully, Roger was standing inside the door.

  “How was your Christmas, Minx?” He asked.

  “Christmas was mostly okay, but now I feel like I’m in drug withdrawal or something.”

  “That’s probably because you are.”

  “WHAT?”

  “You’ve been taking your injection for weeks and weeks. You’re probably hooked.”

  “On Easy X? I thought it was mostly non-addictive!”

  “It is. But the euphoric-downer is addictive, without a doubt.”

  “ROGER! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?”

  “Nothing I didn’t do to Patti Cakes, Marlene and Crystal.”

  “WHAT THE FUCK, ROGER! What is the downer in that cocktail, and how addictive is it?”

  “It’s heroin, and it’s about as addictive as anything gets.”

  ‘YOU TURNED ME INTO A HEROIN JUNKIE?”

  “Apparently. Don’t worry about it. You can get your fix as long as you work here.”

  I didn’t think even this scum could do anything that low. I swung my cane and heard it crack against his head. Knowing where he was, I jumped at him, found him, and began to pound him for all I was worth.

  I felt big hands on me and screamed for Rocco to let me kill Roger. He pulled me off and held me in his monstrous arms. I was too angry to yell anything understandable. Plus the withdrawals were about killing me at that point.

  “You … you just need a little sweetness,” Roger stammered. “She’s in withdrawal, Rocco. Let me get her something.”

  “Alie, what’s goin’ on?” The big guy asked.

  “There was heroin in the cocktail Roger’s been giving us. He hooked me on heroin, Rocco!” I started to cry.

  “I’ll kill him,” Rocco said.

  “If you do, Alie and Patti and Marlene and Crystal won’t have any way to get what they need,” I heard Roger say. “Hold her still, Rocco, and I’ll make her feel better.”

  “Don’t touch her Roger,” Rocco rumbled. I’d never heard a more poignant threat.

  “If I don’t, she won’t get what she needs. Do you wanna see her suffer? It’s too early for the Easy X cocktail. I need to mainline her with this junk.”

  “NO!” Rocco shouted. I could swear the building shook.

  Meanwhile, I was in agony for lack of a fix. I knew it, I didn’t want it, but I had to have it.

  “Alie?” Roger asked.

  “Let him give it to me, Rocco,” I said sadly.

  I felt Roger hold my arm out, find a vein without tying my arm, and the needle slipped in.

  In a moment, I felt wonderful.

  Chapter 15 – La Isla Bonita

  From somewhere in my dream-state, I heard a rumbling voice say, “Alie, are yous alright?”

  “Uh … uh … uh … whoa … Big Guy! I feel … whoa … I’m in … I … You wanna fuck me?”

  “Not now, Alie. I’m gonna kill Roger first.”

  “Uh … uh … okay …”

  Then my mind started to settle out. “Nah … no, Rocco … don’t do anything … I … I … I don’t want you in trouble.”

  “It’ll look like an accident …”

  “No Rocco!” I shouted that time. I’d realized that Roger had what I had to have. I hated Roger, but I needed Roger. God damn the pusher man …

  “Where am I?” I asked Rocco.

  “In the lounge. No one else is here yet.”

  “What about Patti and Marlene and … and …”

  “Crystal.”

  “Yeah, Crystal …”

  “They was here before yous and left already. I was afraid you’d be havin’ the same problem.”

  “I guess I was. I’m okay now.”

  “Yous on the white horse.”

  “Yeah. Is that what he gave me?”

  “Yeah, smack … neat.”

  I was reaching up to his face as he bent over me. He was smoothly shaven at the moment.

  “I’m a junkie, Rocco. He hooked me.”

  “Yeah. And I’m gonna make him pay.”

  “No. I won’t have you in trouble because I was an idiot.”

  “I’ll …”

  “No! Forget anything like that! Please Rocco.”

  “He needs to pay for this.”

  Thinking about Rocco killing Roger – and I had no doubt he would – I knew it was bad on two levels. First off, Rocco could go to jail for life or, even worse, get the death penalty in this state. Second, without Roger, I’d have to find another source of drugs. I knew I was in no physical or mental condition to try to kick this right now. Not with so much going on in my life, especially the daily challenges of being sightless. I’d gone through four days without, and I was almost ready to kill myself earlier this morning, the withdrawal was that bad. I said all this to Rocco.

  “What I don’t understand,” I said to Rocco, who was sitting next to me and holding my hand, “is how I could take that for a month and not have the effect I just did, not feel withdrawals sooner, and not have a craving that gradually increased.”

  “It’s ‘cause the Easy X moderates the heroin effect, including the high and the otherwise growin’ need.” It was Roger who’d spoken; he must have entered the lounge.

  Roger went on in his usual, lazy voice, apparently unperturbed. “As long as you keep takin’ the cocktail, you’ll be stable like you have been.”

  “And if the time should ever come when I quit this place?”

  “As long as you fulfil your contract, you get the goods. After that, if you decide to quit, I’ll get you enough to gradually wean off it. Might take you six months to a year, but if you do it right, the Easy X will help you through the weaning. I won’t pay for it, of course, since you wouldn’t be workin’ here, but I’ll get it for you.”

  “And make a nice profit at the same time,” I said. I believed him about the weaning, which made me feel a little better, but I was a heroin addict thanks to this creep, this monster!

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll also do. I’ll give you a couple doses to take home with you after your Tuesday dance, so you won’t feel nothin’ uncomfortable on Wednesday or Thursday when you’re off.”

  “And what’ll that cost me?” I asked indignantly. The last thing I wanted was to take the stuff even more often. But that was probably the first thing I needed.

  “How ‘bout a little head?” Roger said. The guy had no redeeming qualities at all.

  “I’ll squeeze that ugly head of yous ‘til it is little,” Rocco said. He started to get up.

  “Okay, okay,” Roger said quickly. I had the feeling he’d backed into the hall. “I’ll give you the two extra doses each week for free. As long as you keep up with the Easy X, you won’t need any additional smack, and your need won’t grow.”

  That was just great. Not! Now I was gonna be high on Easy X every night of my life. I yelled at Junior again, but it didn’t do any good. Then, it hit me.

  “Roger! Like I told you when I asked for time off, I’m planning to go to Grand Cayman with Rina for two weeks! What am I gonna do? I can’t go without for two weeks! And I’m not risking jail in the Caribbean trying to buy drugs there! YOU BASTARD!”

  I lost my temper again and got up to find that son of a bitch and beat the shit out of his fat body.

  I got to him before Rocco could stop me and before Roger could run. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him fine. I started pounding him everywhere with my little fists. That lasted about ten seconds before Rocco put his arms around me. I was still fighting, kicking and screaming as Rocco held me, arms at my side, about a foot off the ground.

  “Don’t get yousself in trouble either,” the big guy said. “He ain’t worth it.”

  “Look …” Roger started. “Whether you believe it or not, I don’t want you to suffer, Alie. I want you to dance and make us both a lot o’ dough. Let me see what I can do to get you what you need while you’re on vacation.”

  “What? How? I don’t intend to go to jail on Grand
Cayman, Roger.”

  “I know a guy who makes regular runs to Jamaica. I think I can get him to swing around to Grand Cayman, and put a couple dozen doses in a private place where you can get it safely. It’ll be there when you arrive. I’ll pay for it. Frankly, you’re worth it.”

  “Gee thanks, Roger,” I said sarcastically.

  “Best I can do. Take it or leave it.”

  “IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF YOU HADN’T HOOKED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

  I don’t think I’d ever used that word before.

  “Take it or leave it,” he said again.

  I couldn’t say anything for a couple minutes. Finally, I had to say, “Okay. I’ll take it. You’d better make sure it’s there. And I don’t want any hassles to get to it.”

  “I’ll take care of it and let you know.”

  I was beaten. What could I do? I’d been turned into a heroin junkie. I needed my daily fix. If it hadn’t been for the Easy X, it would have been worse. Much worse.

  **********

  It was January 18. Later that afternoon, when I’d normally be getting ready to dance the first night of five in a row, Rina and I would be flying to Grand Cayman. We were both excited.

  Over the last few weeks, I’d faithfully gotten my fix – I’d decided to call it what it was – every day. On my off-days, I either gave it to myself, or Rina gave it to me.

  When I’d told her what Roger had done to me, she understood, and she wasn’t all that surprised. She’d thought it was an Easy X addiction, and was feeling pretty badly for me when she found out it was smack. She wanted to know if I wanted to check into a detox facility or wanted her to help me get off it. I told her no, not for now, while I was dancing. I told her that when I finally could see enough to quit, I’d need her help with getting me through the weaning process.

  She seemed skeptical, or uncertain about what to say or do, but let it go.

  I tried not to think about it. I took my daily medicine, experienced a short high, and then got sex-hungry. I tried to tell myself it was like insulin for a diabetic. The Easy X kept it from getting worse, so it was the same every day.

  Being sex-hungry on my days off wasn’t ideal, but Rina and I managed it. The sex was very, very good, but I think it would have been almost as good with only our modified clits, and no drugs. That is, if I could have functioned without the fix. Which I couldn’t. Roger had bound me to my job at the Jolly Roger in a way no threatened lawsuit ever could. I was also bonded to heroin. No handcuffs or ropes ever held anyone tighter.

  Taking the Easy X every day made sex not only a desire, but a need. I didn’t like that. I wanted to look forward to sex with Rina as a great, indulgent, sharing pleasure. I didn’t want it to be a burning, consuming need that I had to satisfy to get through a day.

  Oh well … it was what it was.

  Roger did come through on a supply of drugs for me once we got to Grand Cayman. I was scared about it, but there was nothing I could do. I needed my daily fix.

  By 8:00 that evening, when I normally would have started my first dance of the night, we’d landed on Grand Cayman Island and made our way to the Ritz-Carlton. I was still high from shooting up before we got on the Metrorail for the airport.

  On the way to the hotel in a rental car, we’d stopped at a local parcel service to pick up a package being held for Melinda Everett. I had only needed to sign that name to a leger and give the clerk a PIN number. The clerk compared the signature with the one I’d previously put on-file, and I left with a plainly-wrapped package containing my 15 days of fixes. I’d lock them in a box and lock the box in the room safe.

  After we got into our room, the next order of business was to make love to Rina.

  The next morning, we had a delicious breakfast on our balcony. Rina said it was a beautiful breakfast too, the way the food was plated and presented. There was a gentle, salty breeze with hints of tropical flowers and fruit in the air. I could also sense the faint, acrid smell of chlorine from the pool that Rina said was down below. I could hear the murmur of people talking, on nearby balconies I assumed, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.

  The beach was on the west side of the island, so we were in the shade on our balcony in the early morning. I couldn’t feel the sun on me and Rina said it was still blocked by the hotel building. Rina said the sky was perfectly clear, with no clouds in sight, and already a bright blue.

  Blind for seven months, I still remembered blue. At least I thought I did, and pictured it in my mind. Somewhere along the way, I must have stopped seeing black, if I ever had, and started simply not seeing. So I didn’t stare into an all-black world all the time. I didn’t see anything. Sighted people have trouble with this concept, and it’s almost impossible to describe. Even in the darkest cave, you sighted folk see black. I don’t. With non-working optic nerves, seeing black is an absurd concept. Since they blinded me, my brain receives no signals at all, including no black signals. After a while, that part of your brain sort of shuts down, so your mind doesn’t even try to incorporate vision into what it’s considering. Except for your own memories, it’s as though vision was not a relevant concept for you.

  Here’s another way to think about it. Birds have a way to sense the magnetic fields of the earth, which is how they navigate when they fly. People can’t do that. But your brain doesn’t think there’s something wrong with your magnetic sensing ability. It never had it and never considered it as lost; it simply wasn’t. That’s what your brain does after you’ve been blind long enough. It doesn’t consider your vision lost, it simply wasn’t. Only your memories of seeing remain. You actually see nothing, in the same way you don’t sense the earth’s magnetic fields either.

  Imagine what you see with the bottom of your feet. You don’t see black there; you simply don’t see anything. Having been blind for many months, I saw the same thing that you see with the bottom of your feet. Nothing.

  I finished eating and sat back. Now I could smell Rina, mixed with the spicy smell of island sausage and the rich, savory smell of the little bit of eggs benedict that we didn’t finish.

  There are no nude or topless beaches on Grand Cayman. That’s one of the reasons I picked it. I was naked in front of people every working day, and I didn’t want to do that on my holiday. Besides, I didn’t want to constantly have to answer questions about my “bangles.” We did, however, use the smallest bikinis we could get away with.

  That was problematic for me. According to my contract I wasn’t supposed to have tan lines when I danced. That meant that I’d have to cover my whiter areas with spray tan when I got back, and continue doing that until I either got the private areas tanned in a tanning bed, or my tan faded. I planned to do both, spray and tanning bed, for a while, at least.

  I was lying on my back on a padded lounger at the beach, holding hands with Rina. I could feel the hot sun on my body, especially on my face. The sensation was odd. It felt wrong to be baking like that, and unable to see anything. Think of seeing red through your eyelids when you’re lying in the bright sun. I couldn’t see that, of course, but I could feel the heat.

  I concentrated on what I was feeling. Besides the heat, there was Rina’s grip on my hand, a slow breeze off the water, an occasional stronger gust carrying a fine salt spray, the soft towel I lay upon and the comfortable cushion below it. My bikini bottom barely covered my genital hardware. I could feel my bikini top trying to contain my large breasts with too little cloth. Being round instead of teardrop-shaped like natural breasts, they stick up like two mountains when I lie on my back.

  I have stripper’s tits.

  I reached for a Pina Colada on a low table next to me. That drink, from the Ritz’s Bar Jack, was supposed to be the best cocktail on the island. I wouldn’t have argued with that. I like Pina Coladas, even when they’re not as good as that one. No, I’m not crazy about being caught in the rain.

  Over the past seven months, I’d gotten used to setting a drink down and remember
ing exactly where it was, so I wouldn’t crash my hand into it and make a mess trying to pick it up. Cleaning up messes when you’re blind is one of the absolutely worst things to try to do. You have no way of knowing how far the mess extends.

  Anyway, I grabbed the slippery, cold glass and got my sip. It was excellent.

  By the time it got later in the afternoon, I’d had several, and was feeling no pain when we went back to our suite. I was pretty sure Rina had kept up with me, and we ended up helping each other along the way.

  It was time for my fix. I was concerned that Rina would mess it up, and decided that maybe I should do it to myself. After I’d fumbled around and gotten a dose out of my stash – Rina’s words, not mine, but that’s what it was, I guess – I realized that it would be better to have Rina shoot me up.

  Like always when I get tipsy, I lose most of my inhibitions. As Rina reached to hold my upper arm for the injection, I told her to stop.

  “What?” She asked.

  “I wonder what it would be like to mainline that cocktail.” I really wasn’t planning to do it, but I was curious about what she thought would happen.

  As soon as I said it, she turned my arm over and I felt the needle go right into me on the inside of my elbow.

  “What did you do?” I asked in a panic.

  “I mainlined you like you wanted,” she said, slurring and sounding confused.

  She’d more than kept up with me.

  Before I could respond, I was farther along the yellow brick road into la-la land than I’d ever been before. Easy X moderates heroin by enabling and controlling its absorption through muscle tissue. Shot directly into the vein, the heroin works first. I was over the moon in seconds. I felt FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!

  Then, within a minute, the Easy X must have kicked in. First, it held me at the euphoric level of the heroin for much longer, and then the sexual need picked up.

  I barely managed to say, “Shoot up a half dose yourself,” before I lost control. She did. Now we were both stoned out of our minds, and on some kind of sexual odyssey.

  The rest of the night was a blur of drug-induced stupor, coupled with a sexual need the likes of which I’d never experienced before. I probably came twenty times. Both Rina and I were screaming in pain by the time it was half-way over, and I still couldn’t stop. I think Rina did her best to give me all the attention I craved, mostly so I’d leave her alone. I passed out several times but reawakened as horny as before.