by Kim Jones
“I have.” And now I’m thinking it’s not just the scene that has me breathless, but Devil’s Renegades Regg too.
Chapter Eleven
Midnight Mayhem vs. Morning Madness
I’m shown to my room that I’m sure is lovely. But, my only focus is the bed that calls to me. When we got back, I immediately took a shower without any thoughts on what in the hell I would wear when I got out. Regg, who is on top of things, called to me and asked if I wanted him to get me something to sleep in. I asked for another t-shirt and when I opened the bathroom door, it was lying on the floor waiting for me. I’ve decided he’s not a terrible host.
I collapse in the bed, not bothering to even turn a light on and take a good look at my surroundings. The smell of clean linen is comforting. The bed is soft, the covers thick and the air down low-just how I like it. Regg had told me that his room adjoins mine, but the door is locked from both sides. He would be leaving his unlocked in case I needed him. I seriously doubted I would. Right now, there was nothing he could do for me. I just needed to sleep. I toss and turn for almost an hour before my mind finally shuts off and gives in to the darkness.
***
Nightmares are something I’m familiar with. I’ve had them all of my life. Usually, I sleep until they wake me, then I find something to help erase the images in my brain. But tonight, they are different. They’re real. Even when I open my eyes, the images are still there. Shadows dance across the room, their ghostly figures dark in contrast to the white walls. The moon is bright tonight, making the scene even scarier. I pull the covers over my head, but it doesn’t protect me. The misty creatures float through the fabric of the comforter and into my hiding place.
I don’t know who they are, but they want me. They want to possess me and steal my soul. These are the demons Luke warned me about.
Luke.
I need him. He would make them go away.
“Luke!” I yell his name, hoping that he can hear me. I know he can’t because he isn’t here. He is fifty miles away. I could drive to him. Even if they followed me, he wouldn’t allow them to come inside. He would protect me like he always has. I call out for him again, hoping that the demons will get scared when they hear his name. The sound of heavy footsteps and the door opening has my hopes skyrocketing. Maybe he came to Biloxi tonight and decided to crash at my place.
“Hey,” he says, his comforting voice thick with sleep and slightly different than normal. He must have had a long night. His arm comes around my waist and his body molds to mine, pulling me to him and making me feel small and safe-like he’s done for years. The cover separates us, but I can still feel the heat of his skin against me. His presence has the demons disappearing one by one until the only people left in the room are the two of us. Just me and my best friend.
Luke’s snoring in my ear wakes me and I elbow him in his side. He stops and pulls me tighter to him.
“Hmm?” he mumbles, burying his face in the back of my hair.
“Stop snoring.” He freezes and I hear him clear his throat before getting up and leaving me. Luke is an early bird and I sleep till’ noon. With my face buried under the covers, there’s no way of telling what time it is, but my best guess is it’s not even daylight. I drift back off and am just falling into a good sleep when the need for something has my eyes shooting open. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch. A toothache I can’t cure. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I need something to make it better. I poke my head out from under the covers and blink my eyes several times. The white wall stares back at me, the craving in my brain and the clean smell of a home that I know is not mine, reminds me of where I am.
I slowly make my way outta bed, the muscles in my body so tired and worn that it takes every ounce of energy I have to make it to the bathroom. I feel like I have the flu, only it’s worse. My body aches so bad that the pain throbs in places I’ve never felt pain before. Even my hair hurts. My hands shake and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat, yet I’m freezing. A hot shower does little to ease the torture, and I crawl back into bed praying that sleep finds me again.
But it doesn’t. So, I lay here and survey the room. It consists of a bed, a dresser, two night stands and three doors. Everything is white except for the brown wooden floors and my lime green luggage. The windows are floor to ceiling and are only covered with a white, sheer curtain; allowing the early morning sunlight to pour in.
Dragging myself back out of bed, I flip open my suitcase in search of something to wear. But the scent of the clothes, the scent of home, turns my stomach, and I’m gagging all the way to the bathroom. I vomit until I dry heave and after several minutes of that, I take another hot shower. When I step out, I feel marginally better. Brushing my teeth, I throw on the shirt I wore last night and head downstairs.
I find Regg in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone. He watches me as I walk around opening cabinets, the refrigerator, the oven and anything else I can get my hands on. I’m looking for something, but I don’t know what. When he is off the phone, he allows me to make several more trips around the kitchen before addressing me.
“What you lookin’ for?”
“Something. Anything,” I say, while my head is buried in the refrigerator.
“I got you some cereal.” His tone is soft, understanding and I wonder if Luke has talked to him about my past. I grab the jug of milk, a bowl and spoon and sit at the table. He turns his head to the side and observes me. It makes me feel like I’m some kind of science experiment and it pisses me off.
“What? What the fuck are you looking at?” I run my hands through my hair, pulling slightly on the ends to feel some kind of relief. It’s like having an earache. There is nothing you can do for it, but if you pull on it, the pain is almost a relief. I put my hands on the table for a second before hiding them under it. When I look up to see if Regg noticed their shaking, I can tell he did. “I don’t know what you expected to happen, but this is part of it. I can’t control them. Just like I can’t control my thoughts, my actions or anything else. So, either quit staring at me and show me where the fucking cereal is or be prepared to watch me start throwing shit.” I snap my mouth closed, wishing I could contain my temper. The more worked up I get, the worse I feel.
Regg stands and opens a cabinet I know I’ve opened at least five times and pulls down a box of Fruity Pebbles. He starts to open it when I snap at him again.
“I got it. I’m not an idiot.” He sets the box down before pouring a cup of coffee and returning to sit with me at the table. Fucking shit. Ugh. Doesn’t he have something to do? Couldn’t him and Luke find something to get into? “Where’s Luke?” I ask, working like hell to open the box. I don’t know why they made this shit child proof.
“He’s at home. He’ll be here later.” I stop long enough to give him a confused look.
“What time did he leave?” It couldn’t be later than seven in the morning. My mind goes back to the box in my hand. I get so frustrated, that I bang it on the table a few times before trying again. My hands are shaking so bad that I can’t get my fingers to slow down long enough to pull the tab and open it.
“He left yesterday, Red. He hasn’t been back.” When I look up, his brows are furrowed and he’s staring at my hands. He takes a sip of his coffee before finally meeting my eyes. “I was the one who slept with you last night. I didn’t know what to do. Luke said sometimes you have bad dreams. You seemed better when I was there so I stayed.” Well, that makes sense. I don’t concentrate on the fact that sleeping in Regg’s arms was comforting or how he held me and made me feel safe. I have too much other shit to worry about in this moment. Like this fucking cereal box.
I finally give up and begin banging it on the corner of the table until I make a hole in the side. I rip the cardboard away and come face to face with another problem. The damn plastic package inside of it. Regg grabs the bag from my hands, cuts the corner of it with a knife and hands it back to me. I bet he is one of those people that rush you to
open presents too.
I pour the cereal in the bowl, and on the floor, and the table before eyeing the jug of milk. Without a word, Regg grabs the jug and pours it for me, then fills up his own bowl. Well, at least eating will give him something to do other than stare at me.
“I’m going to be gone for most of the morning. Brooklyn will be here.” I don’t know why, but the news of Regg leaving saddens me. I like that he seems to get me and all of my crazy ass ways. Brooklyn knows me better than he does, but there is something comforting about his presence that I’ve never found in anyone else. Not even Luke.
Because I’m sad, I become angry.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I snap, already feeling nauseated from the three bites of cereal I have eaten. “And what’s the matter? Bit off more than you could chew?” My goal is to hurt him. Just like he is hurting me, but he is undeterred.
“No, I just have some stuff I need to handle. I’ll be back this afternoon.” I push away from the table, knocking my chair over and listening to the cereal crunch underneath my bare feet as I make my way to the den. My eyes scan the mini bar, looking for my other guilty pleasure. But, it’s gone. Water bottles line the cabinet that held liquor bottles just yesterday. It feels like a slap in the face. I spin on my heels, ready to unleash on Regg, but a cramp in my stomach sends me to my knees. It feels like someone has stuck a knife soaked in gasoline inside of me. It’s a burning agony, and each time my heart beats it feels like I’m being kicked in the ribs.
“Red?” I hear Regg call from the kitchen, but I can’t answer him. I curl into a fetal position on the cold, hard floor and wait for the excruciating pain to subside. It starts to ease just as he opens the door. “Shit,” he says, running to my side. His first reaction is to pick me up, but I moan in protest.
“Don’t touch me,” I manage, trying to take small, shallow breaths. Breathing deep only causes the pain to worsen. In my awkward position, the pain slowly fades away, but I stay there in fear of it coming back. I shiver from the cold, and try to control the involuntary jerk of my arms and legs. This shit isn’t worth getting clean. I would have rather died from an overdose than have to endure this.
A blanket is thrown over me and then Regg comes into my line of sight. He is lying on the floor beside me, just like he did on the road yesterday.
“Can I do anything?” This is what I like about Regg. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay because he knows I’m not. He doesn’t tell me ‘I’m here’ because it’s obvious that he already is. He just does what he thinks needs to be done which is usually the right thing.
“Cramps.” My one word is the only explanation he needs. He nods his head in understanding, propping it in his hand while he lies on his side.
“I watched my mom go through this. It was a long time ago, but I still remember. There was no one else to help her, so I had to. My brother was too little to even know what was goin’ on.” I listen to his story, watching as his eyes grow distant at the memory. “I’ve never told him about that. Lucky for him, he got out before he could even remember who she was.”
“But you didn’t get out?” Knowing that he was forced to take care of his mother when he was just a kid has me seeing Regg in a different light.
“I did, just not soon enough.” I feel my insides twist from his confession and it has nothing to do with my body’s reaction to the lack of drugs. It’s because I feel pain for Regg. Familiar pain that I myself have felt when it came to being brought up in a shitty home.
I hear the front door open and Brooklyn announcing her presence. This sends Regg back to the present and he shoots me a wink and an encouraging smile. I give him what I can manage of one just before Brooklyn busts into the room. She is silent as she walks slowly through the den until she is right up on us. Without warning, Regg throws his hands up and yells something, scaring the piss outta her and me. Brooklyn screams and clutches her chest before hitting him with her purse, which he blocks easily with his arm.
“Holy shit! I thought y’all were dead,” she confesses, giving a now standing Regg a hug. She puts her hand on her hip and looks down at me. “What you doin’, baby girl?” Regg comes to my rescue and informs her of the sudden approach of a stomach cramp and the comfort I’m finding on the floor. “God love you. Have you had breakfast?” I nod up at her just as Regg says,
“About that.” He grabs her elbow and steers her into the kitchen where I hear her gasp at the mess I made. Then she laughs and I smile knowing that even if Regg takes the day off, I’ll be in good hands.
Chapter Twelve
Out of Sight and on My Mind
Regg leaves without even telling me goodbye. Brooklyn tells me it’s because he didn’t want to wake me, but since I wasn’t asleep, I’m not buying it. Just because I was lying on the floor with my eyes closed doesn’t mean shit. So, now my mood is worse than its been since I got here yesterday. I’m snapping about every little thing until eventually Brooklyn has to walk outside so I can keep my teeth. Or at least that’s the reason she gave me. The last thing I want to do is piss her off, so after I walk through the house a hundred times, I decide I’m calm enough to join her.
“I apologize. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I say, falling down into the swing. Brooklyn looks up from the book she is reading and peers at me over the top of her glasses. She is sitting in the same seat Luke sat in yesterday and I wonder if she did it knowing I would have to sit and face her. Sneaky little shit.
“You don’t have to apologize to me, baby. I get it.” Brooklyn has been in this life long enough that nothing surprises her. This isn’t her first round with an addict either. The club firmly believes in taking care of their own, and I am not the first one she has helped get through this shit.
“It’s hard knowing that I can make this all go away with something I use to have at my disposal for years.” I rub my hands down my arms and legs, trying to relieve the irritation of my skin. It feels like tiny little bugs are crawling all over me.
“That’s no kind of life for you, Red. I know you love to dance and none of us have ever looked down on you because of it. But, if the cause of your problems stem from your career, then maybe it’s time to find something else to do with your life.” Her words are wise and ones I need to hear, but I don’t want to. I keep my mouth shut, afraid of saying something that I might regret. I want to scream at her, but I know it’s only because of my situation, not because she is wrong.
“I think I’m gonna go take a shower,” I say, ready to leave this uncomfortable situation and do something to relieve this fucking itching. I pause at the door, then go back to where Brooklyn is sitting and lean down to give her a hug. It doesn’t last long, but it’s full of meaning and the smile on her face shows me that she understands.
I spend the next several hours pacing the floors and looking outside every few minutes for any sign of Regg. Brooklyn cleaned the kitchen and offered to re-wash all of my clothes so they smell like here instead of home. If it weren’t for the shaking and fidgeting and the nausea, I wouldn’t even remember the fact that I’m going through withdrawals because my mind is focused on something else.
Regg.
I need him here. I know that it could possibly be that today is worse than yesterday and would have been no matter if he were here or not. But, I feel like I’m even more fucked up since he’s gone.
By two o’clock, I can’t stand it any longer. I stomp into the den where Brooklyn is watching T.V. and start shouting my demands. I don’t want to take it out on her, but no one else is here.
“Regg hasn’t come back yet and I need him here.” Brooklyn starts to say something but I cut her off. “I don’t give a shit how you do it, but you find out where he is and tell him to come home. I can’t do this without him. I can’t.” My confession wasn’t intended to sound so desperate and needy, but my lack of a filter doesn’t allow me to say it any other way. Like all the other times, I’ve let myself get worked up for too long and my mood nosedives, sending me spi
raling down into a depressing crash. I start to cry, right here in the living room, in front of Brooklyn, for no reason at all. I sob into my bandaged hands and allow her to lead me to the couch where she leaves me, but returns a few minutes later and lets me lay my head in her lap. I cry into her leg while she scratches my scalp with her long nails. It feels good and I’m debating what I want more. I don’t know if I want to tell her to go find Regg like I asked, or for her to continue scratching my head. The dilemma has me crying harder.
“I can’t do it, Brooklyn. I can’t do it. Please, help me,” I beg, wanting her to take me from this place and back to my life. “I’m an addict. It’s what I’ll always be. If it’s not drugs, it’s gonna be something else. I’d rather die than live like this.” I shake and cry and scream in her lap, while she keeps a steady rhythm of running her fingers over my head.
“It’s okay to want to some things, baby. And what you’re craving now, isn’t a bad addiction to have.” I know she’s not talking about the drugs. She’s talking about Regg. But, it’s the change that I didn’t like. It’s the fact that we started this journey together and only two days in, I need things to remain as they are. I don’t need anything distracting me, like the lack of his presence. Because there is no way I could ever be addicted to a man I hardly even knew.
Could I?
Sometime during my breakdown, I fall asleep. When I wake up, I’m still lying on the couch, but Brooklyn has repositioned us so that I’m lying against her arm instead of her leg. She is behind me, and her hand is no longer scratching my head, but rubbing my hair. I close my eyes and concentrate on the movement of her hand that starts at my forehead and stops halfway down my back.
