A LaLa Land Addiction

by Ashley Antoinette

  “Get up!” Iman growled as he snatched the covers off of her.

  “Hmm,” Bleu moaned groggily.

  “Get up!” Iman repeated as he grabbed her feet and began to pull her out of the bed.

  “Let me go! What is wrong with you?” Bleu screamed in alarm as she hit the floor with a thud. Iman had come by unexpectedly and her heart beat furiously as she looked around in anticipation to see what evidence she had left lying around. Seeing the disappointment in his eyes made her heart fall into her stomach. She was sick because now that he had come back around she could see that his intentions were never to harm her. She couldn’t be trusted by herself for two weeks. What have I done? she thought.

  Iman was usually a man of composure, but he was so livid that he picked up the ashtray as he shouted, “What’s this? Huh, ma? You in here getting high?” He threw it aross the room, shattering it against the wall. Bleu jumped and stood to her feet in defense.

  “No! It’s just weed!” she lied. She knew she looked a mess. She had gone on a three-day binge, alternating between smoking and letting Cinco have his way with her. She couldn’t even remember if she had washed Cinco’s stench off her body before she had passed out in her bed. She stood to her feet and ran her fingers through her hair. Insecurity filled her as she saw the doubt in Iman’s eyes. She had never seen him so angry. He had never spoken to her without love lacing his tone, but today the bass in his voice was terrifying. Bleu knew that Iman wouldn’t strike her. She didn’t fear him in that way. She feared being ostracized by him and having his love stripped away without warning. Despite her destructive behavior, she truly did not want to lose him.

  “I don’t give a fuck if it was a cigarette! You don’t smoke shit in my crib. You know your situation. Weed ain’t just weed with you, ma!!” He was shouting, something he never did. “How are you getting this shit? Huh? I don’t leave you with no paper. Who sold this to you? You gon’ make me dead one of these little niggas for bringing shit to my crib.”

  Bleu was glad she had thought to hide her last few rocks beneath the mattress. If Iman knew just how badly she had fucked up he would really flip his lid.

  “No one!” she shouted. “I bought it from some white kid at the mall!” Bleu was making it up as she went along, adding false details to make him believe her.

  “Wake the fuck up, Bleu,” Iman said passionately as he grabbed her shoulders, trying to shake some sense into her. “You’re an addict. I’ve been sugarcoating this shit and trying to help you through it, but I’ma give it to you real, ma. You’re a fucking crackhead. You’re no better than bitches on the street that swallow dick in order to get high. You can’t smoke weed. You can’t smoke shit. I can’t even trust you around a medicine cabinet. The shit is serious. Do you know what you’re doing to me, ma?” Iman released her and stormed out, headed for the door.

  Bleu ran after him. “Iman, wait! Please!” She grabbed his hand as he reached for the door, squeezing her body between him and the exit. He pushed her out of the way, but she stood her ground, refusing to let him leave.

  “Move out of the way,” he said in a lower tone.

  “No,” she said sternly.

  “Move,” he said again, losing patience.

  “No! Iman, no!” she shouted, this time pushing his chest. “I was stupid. I was bored and I did some dumb shit. I was going crazy here. I hadn’t heard from you. You didn’t come by. You weren’t answering my calls. For the first time since I met you, I felt like I wasn’t important to you. I acted out. I didn’t even like it. It was just something to do and I’m sorry. I promise you, Iman, I’m not going back to how I used to be. You have to believe me!”

  Iman stared at her. His mind told him one thing while his heart said another. The two were in direct conflict when it came to Bleu. This young, wild, reckless girl had her hooks in him so deeply that he was acting out of character. All the signs were there to tell him that she had fallen off track. She couldn’t be saved. He had never been a sucker for love type of nigga, but Bleu had snuck her way into his heart.

  “I’ll never do it again,” she promised.

  Iman grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her to the couch.

  “Sit down.” He said the words so sternly that she had to comply.

  He sat across from her and tented his fingers under his chin. His forehead creased in contemplation as he let silence take over the room.

  She dared not speak. She barely wanted to breathe. Anger radiated from him.

  “You got to decide what type of woman you’re going to be, ma,” he said. “Cuz if this is who you are, I can’t fuck with you. If you gon’ keep making the same mistakes, over and over, we might as well call this curtains. If you can’t shake this shit solo you can go back to rehab. I’ll finance it, but I can’t make you. I can’t be here every minute of every day—”

  “But you weren’t here at all,” she interrupted. “You keep trying to ship me off to rehab. Do you know how much support it takes to make it through rehab? I have no friends, no family. Just you, and you just dumped me there like I was supposed to just magically come out cured. No more crackhead Bleu!” she argued.

  “I know and I apologize for that. I’ll be better for you,” Iman said as he sighed in exasperation. “But you got to be stronger than this, ma. I can’t be with a weak woman.”

  “What don’t you get? You’re not with me anyway!” Bleu shouted. “You’re with her! You’re with your wife! So if I smoke weed, or meth, or crack, it doesn’t matter! There’s no reward for good behavior, Iman. Don’t you get that you completely abandoned me?” she yelled.

  He is my trigger, she thought as the stress from it all just made her want to say fuck the world and get high.

  “What do you want me to do?” Iman asked.

  Bleu was spent. Mentally and physically, spiritually and emotionally … loving Iman drained her in every way. Sitting here arguing with him, lying to him. It all just took too much effort. It was futile.

  “Right now I just want you to go. Or can I even put you out? Seeing as how you own everything in here,” she said sarcastically.

  He didn’t respond and she stopped her tirade. “I do love you, Bleu,” he said.

  “I know,” Bleu replied. “But you just can’t choose me. So what are were doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Iman said.

  Bleu stood and walked to the door. She opened it, letting him know it was time to leave.

  “You really putting me out my own shit, huh?” he asked as he walked up on her. There was no such thing as personal space when it came to their interaction. He was so close she could smell the scent of his aftershave. She could feel the tickle from his growing beard. When he exhaled she absorbed his breath, wishing it could give her life … strength.… Oh, how she wished she could be half the woman he thought she could be.

  “I can leave if you don’t want to,” she suggested

  “I’ll let you cool off,” Iman said. He kissed her. Deeply. The type of kiss that made her soul stir and caused tickles to creep up her spine.

  “Come back when you’re ready to make me number one. I can’t do this, us,” she said, pointing between them, “not like this. So you have to choose. Tan or me.” A sadness swept over her. She knew what the outcome would be. Pitting herself against Tan, a woman he had been with for years, would end badly.

  Iman left and she closed the door before she embarrassed herself by begging him to stay. Bleu headed straight to her bedroom and retrieved the rocks from under her mattress. She couldn’t sit here feeling the things she was feeling. The despair, the heartbreak, the loneliness. Fuck that. Not when she could just make it all go away with one little …

  12

  Bleu didn’t feel anything … not anymore. This had happened to her so many times that she was no longer disgusted with herself. She had given Iman a choice to make and apparently he had not chosen her. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and to mask the sorrow that threatened to drown her she relied on drugs
to see her through it all. It was either that or blow her head off. She figured self-destruction was better than suicide. Cinco gripped her hips so hard that his fingernails left impressions in her skin as he humped furiously from behind. There was nothing gentle about him. He fucked her. This wasn’t even mutually gratifying. She was just a hole for him to get his rocks off and he inflicted more pain than pleasure as he pounded relentlessly. His sweat dripped on the small of her back and the smell of him, ugh. The scent of his flesh was the worst. He wasn’t a dirty man, but everything about him made her sick to her stomach. The cologne he wore caused her stomach to turn. The stickiness of his perspiring skin was torture. The patch he wore over his eye creeped her out. His mentality was disgusting. His arrogance was a turnoff. His cruelty was sickening. Vomit tickled the back of her throat, but she held it in as his grunts filled the air. She wanted him to finish fast. Her fists gripped the sheets from the pain. With every thrust he was stabbing her insides. She was so turned off that she couldn’t even get wet. Guilt filled her, but she was at his mercy. He had the power because he had the dope, and he hung it on a string above her head like she was a mule chasing a carrot. Cinco knew that she was more manageable when she was high, and whenever he came knocking with that rock in his hands she complied with his demands. It didn’t matter that they were in the bed that Iman had purchased for her. All that mattered was that Cinco left her reward on the nightstand before he left. If this was the price to pay for her high she would do it every time. If this was what it took to forget that she was utterly heartbroken over Iman then so be it.

  Cinco had been spoon-feeding her crack cocaine since the day Iman had left. Bleu hadn’t heard from him since. He hasn’t even called to check up on me. Ugh! Stop thinking about him. Fuck him, she thought. Bleu reached for the pipe that sat on the nightstand. Bleu needed a hit immediately. There was no way she could stomach Cinco’s strokes without a bit of incentive. She fired up like an expert without ever missing a beat. The rock sizzled and Bleu inhaled the smoke, closing her eyes as she began to feel it. “Oh my God,” she moaned as she came to orgasm.

  “Damn, shorty. That shit got wet,” Cinco said as he slapped her ass, stinging her as he wrapped his fists around her hair.

  The dick would be decent if he weren’t such a pig, Bleu thought. She was tired of feeling him inside of her. He had been chasing a nut for over half an hour and he still hadn’t cum yet. Bleu sank her chest all the way to the bed, which caused her behind to stick up higher and her flower to open wider. She threw it back at him, matching him stroke for stroke.

  “Damn. Hell yeah. Throw that shit,” Cinco cheered her on.

  Bleu rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder. “Hurry up,” she said impatiently.

  She could feel Cinco’s pace quickening. “Pull out,” she said. She tried to get up, but he pushed her down, gripping her neck tightly. Flashbacks of the first time he had raped her erupted in her mind. That night on the beach when he had drugged her was the night that she had become his pawn, whether she knew it or not. “Pull out!” she cried. Simply because she had asked, he refused to. She felt him empty himself into her and she cringed.

  “What are you doing?!” Bleu shouted as she crawled frantically off the bed. She scrambled to the bathroom and jumped directly into the shower. She turned the water on so hot that it burned as it hit her skin. She scrubbed her body and then rested her hands on the walls as she dipped her head. She wished that it was as easy to cleanse the inside of her as it was to wash away the outside. Bleu was rotten. She was so lost that she didn’t even think she deserved a good life anymore.

  Bleu hopped out of the shower and didn’t bother to cover her body before walking back into the bedroom. Cinco had seen every part of her anyway. There was no point in being coy now.

  Cinco smirked at the work of art in front of him. She was gone forever. Her bad-girl swag was much more interesting anyway.

  “I better duck out before your boy slide through,” Cinco said.

  “He ain’t coming. He’s too busy with your bitch of a sister. I gave him a choice. His wife or me. You see how that turned out,” Bleu said.

  “Only reason that nigga still married to Tan is because of Sandoza,” Cinco said. “That don’t stop a nigga from keeping some pussy on the side.”

  “Why are you talking?” Bleu asked. “We don’t talk.” Bleu went into her drawer and pulled out a casual denim jumper.

  “I’m just saying. Seem like Tan is in the way. Get her out of the picture and you’ll have Iman to yourself,” Cinco said.

  “It’s that easy, huh?” Bleu said as she rolled her eyes. “And how do you suggest I get her out of the picture?”

  “Murk her.” Bleu froze as she studied him. He said it so casual, as if he were talking about the weather.

  “She’s your sister,” Bleu said, shocked.

  “My sister’s a bitch,” Cinco replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Something happens to Tan on Iman’s watch and Sandoza will never forgive him. He’ll be out of business for good and I can get what’s rightfully mine. Tan will be gone. You can go running back to your man. It’s a win-win for everybody, shorty.”

  Bleu was speechless. She didn’t know what to say. Was he joking? Was this some kind of test? She had never seen treachery of this kind. It was during moments like these that she remembered whom she was dealing with. Cinco wasn’t wrapped too tight. If he would do his own sister like that, imagine what he would do to me, she thought.

  “If I got to do all that, I don’t want Iman,” Bleu said.

  “Whether you want that nigga or not, you’re gonna do it,” Cinco said. The threatening tone of his voice let her know he meant every word.

  “Are you threatening me?” Bleu asked, her voice trembling slightly.

  “Call it what you want,” Cinco stated. “But I don’t think you want me to tell Iman you been exchanging pussy for dope. I can tell him exactly how sweet that pussy taste and about that pretty little mole you got.”

  Bleu’s stomach went hollow. Iman knew her body well. The birthmark between her legs was right on her outer labia. He would know exactly what mole Cinco was describing and there was only one way for him to know it was there.

  “This is crazy. Is this some kind of game to you?” she asked.

  “No games,” Cinco said. “I’m dead ass.”

  Bleu was livid with Iman, but in no way did she want him to find out about her dealings with Cinco. She would do almost anything to keep this secret from Iman. She had hit rock bottom. Sure, she was living lavishly in a sky-rise apartment and she had more labels in her closet than you would see on a runway, but her peril rested beyond the surface. If Iman had been around he would have seen through her. He would have noticed the shift in her, but since their fight he had been MIA. She didn’t know if he was leaving her alone or if he just needed time to figure things out, but either way it hurt. She just wanted to be with the man she loved, but could she kill for him? Was he worth that much?

  “Look, you ain’t even got to do the dirty work, but you can help me out. I know Iman keeps his safe in the house. I know you know where it is. I need to empty that shit while we in there to make it look like Tan was murdered in a robbery gone bad. We’ll go in and you can hit the safe while I take care of Tan. I don’t even need the bread. You can have that shit. I just need it to look legit. You can’t lose, shorty. You get to keep your nigga and you leave out the spot with enough paper to change your life. Ain’t you tired of not having your own dough? This nigga babysitting you like you not old enough to handle no cash? After this you won’t have to ask him for anything,” Cinco said.

  “I just don’t know if I can,” Bleu said. “Please don’t make me be a part of this.”

  Cinco nodded and picked up his phone. He put it on speaker as he dialed a number and listened as the phone rang.

  “What’s good, familia?”

  The sound of Iman’s voice sent Bleu into a panic as she reached for the phone.


  “Hey, bruh. I got something I want to rap with you about. You remember that little bitch you used to fuck with?” Cinco asked.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. Cinco pushed her off.

  “Nah, who you talking about?” Iman asked. “You know I don’t fuck around out here with these birds.”

  “What’s her name?” Cinco said as he snapped his fingers. “College girl?”

  Bleu’s eyes widened as she whispered, “I’ll do it.”

  “You know the bitch that used to move weight for me. China,” Cinco said.

  “I never fucked with her, but yeah, what about her?” Iman asked.

  “Just letting you know I got the goons on her head. I got a bone to pick with her, so if you hear word about her let me know,” Cinco said, changing the context of his conversation.

  Bleu heard Cinco end the call and he smiled sinisterly. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

  “What if Iman is there? He can’t get hurt. I won’t be a part of any plot where something might happen to him. He isn’t going to just lie down while we run in his house. It won’t be as easy as you’re trying to make it seem,” Bleu protested. “Just think about this for a minute.” Bleu knew that no amount of reasoning was going to change Cinco’s mind.

  “We’ll do it when he goes out of town in a week. He’s meeting with my father in Mexico. It’ll be the perfect time,” Cinco replied.

  It was then that Bleu realized that smoking dope would lead to her downfall. If she was willing to betray Iman, what else would she be willing to do? Sienna flashed in her mind and suddenly she felt guilty for harboring resentment toward her mother. What morals had Sienna sacrificed in order to smoke even a morsel of crack? Was this desperation the same feeling Bleu’s father had that fated day he had committed the bank robbery that led to his death by police? It took her living a little, messing up a little, to understand her parents’ plight. She had no idea what had occurred that led up to those moments. Bleu could see herself falling victim to the flip side of the game, but she couldn’t stop herself from craving the glass dick. She was too far gone. It was no longer fun because now she felt like she needed it. It was what she used to keep herself from feeling everything. Hurt, anger, neglect, pain, and lately the most prevalent emotion that overcame her was guilt. The guilt of not being who everyone had expected her to be, for not being perfect, and for turning out just like her parents. She loved and hated them all in that one moment. She hated them for exposing her to a life of drugs, but she loved them because she now knew that every wrong thing they had done they hadn’t meant to do. Perhaps they hadn’t even wanted to do them. Her parents had loved her the only way they knew how, but love from a dope fiend only went so far, because no matter how much they loved Bleu, they would always love something else greater … dope. It was the way she felt about Iman, and as a tear slid down her face she knew that even after she got Tan out the way she would never be good enough for him.