These past thirty days have been bliss. No cameras, no staged locations, no fucking smiling for grabby-ass people who are trying to cop a feel. All that shit changes when Virtuous Paradox goes back to work. A few days from now my mug will be plastered all over every fan site, blog, and Twitter account because Rebel can’t seem to keep our recording locations under wraps.
When the noise dies down and the last guest leaves, Aspen yells that it’s all clear. I open my bedroom door, only to find her standing there in her panties and bra with a bottle of tequila in her hand.
“Where’re your clothes?”
She shrugs and sashays into my bedroom. Of course I watch her; her ass is practically bare and I’m horny. Although sleeping with her would be a major mistake on my part. Thanks to Aspen and her endless supply of drugs, I’m on the tail end of a monthlong bender. I haven’t eaten, showered, or slept in days. Tomorrow my life changes. It’s back to work, back to long hours in the recording studio and learning ridiculous dance moves that have been choreographed for the sole purpose of entertaining women. Considering the way they make us mimic sex, the record label ought to just give us a pole to dance around.
Sex sells.
That’s all we hear, over and over again. Sexier lyrics. Sexier moves. Make love to the camera. As far as I’m concerned, that camera gets around.
Aspen lies on the bed next to me, and my eyes betray me as I take her all in. Like any red-blooded man, I’m aroused, but I know better. I wish I’d find her attractive, but I don’t. She’s too skinny and does way too many drugs. The pot calling the kettle black, I know, but I can stop anytime I want. She can’t. And when she comes down from her high, it’s a scary fucking scene around here. Curtains, dishes, and mirrors have been replaced in the past month because she turns into a deranged lunatic.
Aspen sits up, grabs the bottle of tequila from my bedside table, and dribbles some down my chest. The shit is cold, and before I can protest, her mouth is covering my nipple.
“Why don’t you like me?” she asks before she starts licking my torso.
“I do. I let you live here, remember?” That’s the only answer I want to give her. Letting her move in was a mistake, but one I’ve dealt with. When I’m home and needing a fix, she always comes through for me.
“But you never want to fuck.”
My head starts to pound as I try to focus on her. I should be chilling right now, letting my high wear off so that I can focus tomorrow. If I show up like this, Rebel is going to fucking kill me.
“We’re friends,” I remind her. It’s not the answer she wants.
She straddles me and removes her bra. Aspen grabs her tits, pulling at her puckered nipples as she grinds into me.
“Fuck, Aspen, why do you do this shit?”
“I’m horny,” she whines.
I’m horny too, but I don’t tell her that. I can easily call one of the chicks whose numbers are in my phone and ask her to come over, but I don’t. I don’t push her off me either. Instead my hand reaches out to stroke her bare leg, and she moves back slightly, allowing my fingers to roam until they’re grazing her pussy.
“If you don’t want to fuck, you should stop,” she tells me, giving me a warning, but I can’t make my brain work now that my fingers are touching her.
Aspen doesn’t care, though, and slides down my legs enough to fumble with the button on my shorts, and when I hear the zipper, I lift my hips for her. All against my better judgment. The cool air from the air conditioner bites a little until her hot mouth wraps around my cock, only to pull away so she can drag her teeth softly against my shaft until my dick is bobbing against her mouth.
Aspen digs her nails into my legs, scraping along my skin, back and forth, each movement coming closer to my cock. I gasp when her cool hand wraps around my base and strokes slowly. With every other pass her tongue darts out to lick my tip, driving me mad.
My fingers dig into the comforter as I focus on the ceiling. I need to tell her to stop, but I can’t form the words. As soon as her mouth envelops my cock, I hiss and tell myself that it’s only a blow job and I need to enjoy the pleasure she’s bringing me.
“Your fucking mouth,” I say, encouraging her for more.
Aspen’s head bobs up and down, my dick tickling the back of her throat. I flex my hips and start fucking her mouth. With one hand pumping my shaft, she uses the other to play with my balls, rolling my nuts between her fingers, tugging lightly.
When she pulls away, I want to cry, because I’m not done. But she surprises me when she drenches my dick with saliva and starts fucking me into oblivion with her mouth. I’m getting my own special porn treatment, and I love every minute of it.
I let her control the tempo for a minute or so before I start to help her out by pushing my hips into her. She fucking moans against my dick, causing my nuts to stir.
“I’m going to fucking come,” I warn her, thinking she’ll move away, but she doesn’t. She grips my ass instead, digging her nails into my heated flesh and swallowing my throbbing cock.
My release is quick and in spurts as I buck into her mouth. She takes it like a champ, swallowing everything I give her. Aspen sits back on her heels, wiping the corners of her mouth. She’s a fucking dirty girl and I love it.
“My turn,” she says, lying down next to me. I should’ve known this was going to be an I’ll-do-you-and-you-do-me type of arrangement. I continue to stare at the ceiling, wondering how I’m going to get out of this and still have a tiny bit of dignity left. I have to give her something to appease her.
Aspen tries to cuddle, resting her head on my chest with her leg hitched over mine. Her nails trail up and down my torso in an affectionate way, making me feel like a total piece of shit.
“Can we try something?” I say at last.
“Anything,” she says. She’s too perky when she responds, not knowing what I want to do. I push her over onto her back, reach for the drawer on my bedside table, and pull out a vial of coke. When I look back at her, she’s naked with her legs spread enough for me to take my position between them.
Her body is there for the taking. It should interest me. The sight of tits and a pussy should have my cock hard and begging to be buried deep in her folds, except the vial between my fingers is more important. The contents excite me more, reminding me that when I’m high nothing else matters.
I open the vial and use my finger to tap some of the contents onto one of her breasts. Her nipple puckers in anticipation. I give her one lick and we both hiss, but clearly for different reasons. Aspen is turned on, and I’m relishing the sensation of my favorite drug seeping into my system. She arches her back, needing more from me. I watch her as my tongue darts out to take her candy-coated tit into my mouth, letting my tongue swirl around her bud until I’ve licked it all up.
“Fuck, that’s so good.” I don’t waste any time before tapping a line of coke along her skin. I dig through my drawer for something to use, and finally find a cut-in-half straw.
“Are you going to fuck me after this?”
“I’ll do anything you want if you hold still.” I regret the words the second they come out of my mouth.
Aspen lies before me with a line of blow centered down her torso. She watches me while I admire…everything. I glide my hands up her sides until my hands are cupping her tits, with the straw in one hand scraping against her skin. It would be so easy to take her right now. To slide into her wet pussy and pound the shit out of her. But my mind wants something else and she has it. She doesn’t flinch when I drag the straw down her body and press it into her skin. My movements are jagged, not smooth like if I were using a mirror, but effective nonetheless. I push along her torso snorting the line of coke I laid out on her body. When I reach the end I lick the residue, wiping her clean until my mouth is on hers and my tongue is thrusting into her mouth, sharing what’s left. She spreads her legs and bucks her hips, showing me what she wants in return.
“Fuck, Aspen.”
“I know,
” she says as she reaches between us, grabs for my dick, and starts stroking. “Have you ever put a little here?” she asks as she plays with the tip of my cock. “Have you ever fucked while you’re high?”
Before I can answer, the sound of a new voice startles me. “What the fuck is going on?”
I jump up from being on top of Aspen to find Rebel standing in my doorway. I push my hair out of my face and try to control my breathing, but the coke is working its way through my system right now and it’s moving fast.
“What are you doing in my apartment?”
“Pull your pants up and get your ass out here.”
I do as she says because she holds the key to my future.
When I walk out to the living room, she’s not alone. My father is there, looking none too pleased. And sitting on my couch is a man I’ve never met before.
“What’s going on?”
“Sit down, Bodhi,” my dad says.
“I’ll stand, thanks.” I don’t know what’s going on, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me that I’m not going to like it.
My dad pushes me toward the couch. At first I pause, but the look in his eyes tells me I need to move. I go reluctantly, taking an available chair instead of sitting next to the random stranger.
“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask again, even though I have a feeling I’m asking for confirmation of something I’ve feared in the back of my mind for a long time now.
“I think you know what this is, Bodhi,” my dad states. His hands are clasped in front of him as he leans toward me. “We’re worried.”
“What about?” I avoid looking at anyone in the room.
“About your drug use,” Rebel says. Suddenly something catches her eye, and I quickly follow her gaze toward my bedroom door, where Aspen is trying to slip out unnoticed. By now I’m certain that everyone in the room heard what was going on in there.
“Recreational drug use isn’t a crime.”
“What you’re doing isn’t recreational, Bodhi.”
“Come on, Dad. I’m not doing anything that other people aren’t doing.” I glance at my now closed door, wishing Aspen was in here too. Instead she’s rushing down the hall with her drug bag over her shoulder, leaving. Fucking great.
Dad sighs and picks up a folder that is sitting on the table. He leafs through the contents and hands me a stack of photos. I thumb through the images while my stomach turns. In front of me, in color, are pictures of me from the bar and other places I’ve been hanging out.
I throw them back on the table and shrug. “So what? I went to a few parties.”
My dad jumps up and yells at me, “Is that all you have to say?”
The one person in the room that I don’t know rises more slowly from the couch and stands next to him, placing his hand on his shoulder.
“Let me try, Roger. Bodhi, I’m Dr. Gordon. I’ve been a friend of your father’s for a while, and he, along with your mother and Ms. Van Zandt, have grown concerned for your health.”
“I don’t need help. I’m not addicted.”
“When’s the last time you got high?” the doctor asks. I lean back in the chair and ignore him. I don’t know him and I don’t have to answer his questions.
“Bodhi, you need to answer him,” Rebel says. “Your spot with Virtuous Paradox hangs in the balance. You’ve known from the beginning that I won’t tolerate this type of behavior.”
“Fuck you all,” I yell, getting up. “I’m an adult, and if I want to get high, I can.”
My father pushes me down in the chair and looks me in the eyes. “You’re high right now.”
I shake my head, hoping he’ll buy the lie.
“He is, Roger. That’s what I caught him doing when I walked into his room.”
“Fucking bitch,” I mutter as I look away from my father.
“Can you give us a minute? I’d like to talk to my son, alone.”
It takes only a second for the room to clear. Not that they’ve gone far; they’re probably just down the hall and can hear whatever he says.
He pulls another chair over and sits down, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Rebel called. She’s been concerned for a while, but she couldn’t come out and accuse you of using until she saw you do it. It’s taken me some time to accept that you might be in trouble, but after witnessing what I did, I’m here to help. When’s the last time you used?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not a fool, Bodhi. I’ve been in this business long enough to know an addict when I see one. So, let me ask you again. When was the last time you used?”
I pause, trying to think of an excuse to counter his suspicions, but the look on his face tells me I’m fighting a losing battle.
“Right before you got here.”
“And before that?”
I close my eyes and wish to hell that I wasn’t having this conversation with my father. He might not always have been around when I needed him, but he’s my dad and I respect him. I’m just happy my mom isn’t here to witness this.
“I can’t remember the last time I was sober.” Once the words are out of my mouth I feel relief, but that is quickly washed away as my brain starts telling me I need more coke so I don’t have to feel like a failure.
“Bodhi, what have you gotten yourself into?”
“I don’t know, but…”
“But what?”
I feel something wet dripping from my nose. I swipe at it, only to find a red streak on my hand. I wipe again, but there’s more blood, and before I know it, it’s dripping down my face and landing on my bare chest.
My dad hands me his hanky, only for it to become soaked with blood almost immediately.
With the help of my father, I make it to the bathroom and sit on the toilet so he can help stop my nosebleed. He isn’t saying much, but I’m expecting him to rip into me any second. I tilt my head back and immediately gag on the blood that is dripping down my throat; I have to hurry over to the sink to spit it out. And right beside me is my dad, running the water so I don’t have to see the blood accumulate in the sink.
“Put this up your nose.” He hands me a rolled wad of tissue that I cram up there, hoping to stop the bleeding. I make the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror, and what I see there is a drug-addicted deadbeat who used a drug that ate away his nasal cavity. That alone should be enough to make me quit, but it’s not. If there was a line to take, I’d do it right now just so I could forget all the fuckery that is happening.
I stare at the guy I am now, with my sunken cheeks, broken blood vessels in my face, and a wad of red-tinted toilet paper up my nose, and wonder how I got here so fast. It doesn’t take much, that’s for sure. Tears fall from my eyes and a rush of hatred comes over me. I hate myself. I hate my life. I cry while I look at the person I am with my dad standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder, not saying a word. He should yell, scream, and tell me how much of a loser I am.
My father has to tear me away from the mirror. I go, unwillingly, only because I need to torture myself. He closes the door to the bathroom and leans up against the wall.
“Look at me, Bodhi,” he demands.
I shake my head, not wanting him to see me like this anymore. The tears haven’t stopped and I’m nothing but a blubbering mess.
“Bodhi?”
“I can’t,” I tell him through sobs. “I can’t.”
He kneels in front of me, placing his hands on my forearms. “Bodhi, look at me,” he says again, this time softer. I do as he asks, expecting to see disappointment and rage, but what I see is only hurt. “What is it that you’re doing, son? Let me help you.”
I shake my head again, not wanting to tell my dad how stupid I’ve been, but the word comes tumbling out before I can stop it. “Cocaine.”
“Is that it?”
My dad pulls me into his arms, not caring about his thousand-dollar suit getting ruined with bloodstains. He holds me to his chest, cra
dling my head while I cry into his shoulder.
“I don’t know whether to hug you or kick your ass for being so stupid,” he says. “The man I brought with me, he’s a doctor, a friend of mine. He owns a facility in San Diego. You’re going to check in tomorrow for thirty days.”
“I can’t.”
“You can and you will. I’m driving you there. Get into the shower and clean up.” He says it so matter-of-factly that I feel like I have no say in my life. He takes one look at me and sighs before leaving me alone on the toilet. The irony isn’t lost on me how others have died sitting on their throne.
As soon as the door is shut, I find a little strength and haul my ass into the shower. I want to burn the pants I’m taking off. Stained with my own blood, they mock my carelessness. I pull the toilet paper out of my nostril and pray that the bleeding has stopped; if it hasn’t, at least being in the shower is better than anything else. I gently run my hand under my nose and pull my hand back to see that it’s clear. A sigh of relief washes over me, but that does nothing to calm the storm brewing inside. I fucked up, and now I’m going to pay the price.
When I get out of the shower, my soiled pants are gone and there’s a fresh set waiting for me on the counter. I don’t know who did this for me, but I’m grateful. I dry off as fast as I can so I can find out what my fate is.
I step out into my bedroom to find my dad and Rebel deep in conversation. When she sees me, her expression is unreadable. I have no doubt she’s disgusted by me and probably ready to eliminate me from the group. It’s not like she needs me for anything.
“I’m giving you all another month off,” she says at last. “What you do in that month is up to you, but I suggest you get help, because I won’t have you fucking up Virtuous Paradox.”
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and wondering what my father said to her. I could ask him, but he’ll tell me it’s business, which means it’s none of mine.
Stripped Bare Page 22
