Infinite Fear

by Jacqueline Abrahams

  I clunk my fork onto my plate and stare at her with frustration. “What the hell else do I do, Jade?”

  “Not sure,” she says sarcastically. “Maybe just hang around here screwing your life up, waiting for Shana to come back. It’s been two damn years. She is not coming back. And she probably is not thinking about you wherever the hell she is. But hey, if you’re lucky, you may only get two strikes in prison and avoid a life sentence. Unlikely, but stranger shit happens every day.”

  “Are you done?” I ask, much shorter than I had expected to be.

  “No!” she snaps. I can’t say that was unexpected. “I think you need closure. You need to find a way to talk to her or maybe even see her.”

  “I thought you were pissed at Shana. Why would you want me to find her?” I ask, confused.

  “I don’t, but I think you need to find her so you can get moving with the rest of your damn life,” she answers softly. She’s lying. She wants to know where Shana is just as much as I do. But Jade is proud and stubborn, and won’t ever admit it.

  I was right. Jade stays silent for all of two minutes before she can’t help herself. “We both need closure,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes.

  Chapter 7

  After promising Jade at least twenty times that I would look into different avenues of tracking Shana down, she is satisfied and exits the Camaro at her house. As much as I try to ignore them, Jade’s words resonate. Closure. Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, all the confusion of the last few days invades my mind. Every time I feel like something positive is happening, the world keeps getting in my way. Some universal force is trying its damnedest to make sure that I stay put, stay drunk, and stay high.

  Or maybe the universe has nothing to do with it. Maybe I am the fucking universal force that prevents myself from moving forward. I maintain that I have valid reasons. But what the fuck are good grades going to do to help me survive in this neighborhood?

  Then my fuck it moment arrives. After doing some digging online, I pick up my phone and dial the number for a prominent Private Investigator. Finding Shana won’t solve all my problems. But it’s a start. One less thing to play on my mind every damn day. The phone rings on the other end, and goes to the guy’s voicemail box. My finger hovers over the call end button, before I raise the phone to my ear and leave a short message. Facing your demons can be a bitch. Then reality hits me. I’m not anxious about closure. I’m terrified that when this guy finds Shana, I’ll discover that she had no real reason to leave. No reason at all, besides me.

  I find myself pacing nervously, waiting for the PI’s call, until eventually I cave and grab the bottle of vodka in my bedside drawer, throwing back neat shots until my body is numb enough to sleep.

  The shrill ring of my cell startles me awake at noon the following day. An unknown number flashes across my screen and I scramble to answer it.

  “Hello?” I answer, my voice raw from the vodka.

  “I’m returning a call,” a low and gravelly voice replies. “How can I help?”

  The PI is a man of few words. From the conversation, I gather that his name is Murphy. He didn’t say whether that was his first or last name. I explain the situation with Shana to him, and he listens, occasionally grunting into the phone in acknowledgement. I arrange to meet him at a bar downtown to pay him, and he hangs up, without so much as a goodbye.

  That was surprisingly easy, I think to myself as I walk out to the kitchen to grab the coffee I so desperately need.

  The week drags by at a snail’s pace. I have five days after the phone call before I meet Murphy. Two of them I spend so fucked up that I can’t even remember what I did. Those were bad days. One more I spent doing a drop for Julius. The day before I’m scheduled to meet Murphy, I get a phone call from Emmanuel telling me that his case was heard, and that he would be spending the next year locked up for possession. Apparently, he didn’t drop off everything he should have that night. He tells me to keep the Camaro until he gets back, and I assure him that I have everything with Julius under control.

  Just as I’m about to head out to some kind of bar to drown my sorrows in a long glass and the lap of some accommodating female, my phone rings again. I don’t expect to hear the voice that I do.

  “Hey stranger.” Even Nina’s voice has a fuck me now tone.

  “Hi yourself,” I say, own voice dipping low and deep. I could use a distraction right now, and I pray that she’s feeling lonely, too.

  “Are you busy?” she asks.

  “If I was, I’m not anymore. What did you have in mind?” I answer softly.

  “Jade and I are having a late lunch. Do you want to join us?” she says.

  Okay, that was not exactly what I had in mind. I had envisioned something that involved less clothing and ended in multiple orgasms. My dick, which had hardened at the sound of Nina’s voice, had expected something else as well. But I was still up for that. Otherwise, my only distraction would be a bottle and some random ass.

  “Sure, where?” I reply.

  “Jade said something about a waffle joint somewhere nearby?” she says.

  “Meet you there,” I say before ending the call.

  Driving through my neighborhood only adds to the increasing hopelessness I feel. Every house I drive by has some kind of feeling attached to it. Whether it’s a parent throwing a ball with their kid, or a bunch of underdressed women gossiping about their neighbors, or even a mother yelling at her deadbeat baby daddy, there’s still something, someone real that they can feel for. Someone they can touch. My whole life has become one fucking pity party. And when I feel like this, I get reckless. Jade’s words play over and over in my mind. You are the only reason you feel like this. I grip the steering wheel and floor the Camaro to the waffle place, attempting to drown out my own thoughts with the heavy revs and white noise.

  Jade and Nina are already sitting at a booth when I arrive. I slide in next to Nina, my eyes unable to steal themselves away from the very short leather skirt she’s wearing.

  “Hey,” I greet with a smile.

  “You remember Nina, Jackson. It was her idea to invite you,” Jade says, before taking a sip of her coke.

  “I remember Nina,” I reply, deliberately avoiding her eyes. The fact that she denied us ever meeting is hot. It’s like an erotic secret that only we know.

  “Good of you to come,” Nina says with an absolutely straight face. If the first two minutes is like this, I’m almost certainly gonna lose it before this late lunch is over.

  Jade and Nina chatter happily after we order. Thankfully, the waitress with the cantaloupe-sized breasts is not here. I don’t particularly feel like being smothered today. At least not by her.

  “Jackson!” Jade’s voice breaks through the rolling reel of foreplay I have going through my mind. “Nina wants to show you something.”

  Nina leans over, holding her phone in front of me. The screen is blank. I feign interest as Nina pretends to scroll through something, which I assume is meant to be a series of photos. It’s not until her hand reaches down to grab my crotch, that I realize the game we’re playing. Jade is distracted by a message on her own phone, leaving sufficient time for Nina to rub her hand up and down my dick with purpose. I stare intently at the phone’s screen in front of me, trying to maintain my focus.

  Just as I’m about it lose it entirely, Nina shifts away, taking her hand and her phone with her. The temperature in this dingy place has just increased tenfold. Our order arrives then, and we distract ourselves by eating.

  “So, how much longer will you be in town?” Jade asks Nina.

  “Not sure,” she replies between bites. “I had expected to be gone by now, but I’ve discovered something in this town that interests me. I may hang around a little more.”

  “Wow, must be some discovery,” Jade grins. “You were only supposed to be in town for a couple of weeks.”

  I almost choke on a piece of waffle while trying to stifle a laugh. Nina gives a small, barel
y there smile. “No, not really. The discovery is not earth-shattering, but it shows potential,” she answers coyly.

  Jade shoots us both a suspicious glance. Clearing her throat she grabs her bag from the seat beside her. “I have to get going,” she says with a knowing smile.

  “What, why?” I ask.

  “I have something to do. I am a very busy person you know,” Jade retorts firmly.

  I feel a blasting coming on. Jade specifically told me not to touch the merchandise. And now I’m fairly certain that she knows that I’m fucking the merchandise. She says goodbye sweetly to Nina and shoots me a glare as she walks out.

  “Does she know?” Nina asks.

  “I’m pretty sure she knows. Subtlety does not exactly appear to be your specialty,” I quip.

  “Coffee?” A familiar voice distracts me from Nina. I turn to come face to chest with a massive pair of breasts.

  “Give us a sec,” I say, hoping that Nina feels like skipping straight to dessert.

  “You look terrified!” she laughs.

  “You would be too if you were staring down the barrel of death. Suffocation by silicone breasts. She scares me,” I say with feigned fear.

  “Well,” Nina says, “I’m claiming you for today. I think I should let her know who owns you, at least for the next few hours.” She takes my hand, guiding it up her extremely short skirt. The waitress watches the scene from the edge of the counter. Nina closes her eyes as my fingers find their intended target. I eye the waitress with an evil grin, my fingers making small circular motions in between the soft folds of Nina’s thighs. I feel a little bad for the poor woman. Her face is beet red, and I’m not sure whether it’s from arousal, embarrassment, or sheer abject horror. Without any warning, Nina’s thighs clench around my hand and a small groan escapes her lips. She turns to me and delivers a very satisfied smile.

  “That was round one,” she whispers, leaning in closer to my neck.

  Nina is daring, dangerous, and so fucking hot. The waitress walks over, her eyes completely devoid of their normal flirtatious glint. “Anything else,” she practically spits.

  “We won’t be needing dessert after all,” Nina says sweetly. “But I could really use a cigarette if you have one.”

  The woman turns on her heel and walks quickly away.

  “You are pure evil,” I whisper to Nina.

  “I’ve been called worse,” she shrugs with a guilty grin.

  Just as I’m trying my hardest to come up with a witty comeback, Nina’s phone vibrates with a message on the tabletop. She immediately picks it up and quickly scans the message. Without another word, she grabs her bag and stands.

  “I have to take a rain check, I’m sorry,” she says looking down at me. I almost see the apology in her eyes. Almost. “I’ll make it up to you,” she continues. Again, I almost believe her.

  I can’t say I’m not disappointed that Nina had to leave. Between Nina’s seeming inability to tell me more than her first name and address, and her no kissing on the lips rule, I feel like I barely know her. Yet at the same time, I feel as though I know her inside out. I’m so damn confused. But it works well with my plan to avoid emotional intimacy with the opposite sex for the rest of my life.

  Driving back home, I expect to feel the need to drink huge amounts of liquor or slam my dick into the first ready and willing female I can find, but none of that happens. Instead I crash on my bed, staring soberly at the stark, white ceiling above. Jade’s words continue to echo over and over again in my mind. I know I’m making stupid choices. I know that better than anyone. But this cycle is so vicious. I think of Shana, shit gets real, and I try to drown out the memories the best was I know how. But it cuts like a knife to feel like I’m letting Jade down. She may not have been in the same relationship as I was with Shana, but she lost her best friend, too. And she’s not running around fucking her life up the way I am.

  Surprisingly, sleep comes easier than I expect. Small steps. One day at a time.

  Chapter 8

  I’d almost forgotten what is was like to wake up without a hangover. My eyes don’t feel like sandpaper, and my mouth doesn’t taste like surgical alcohol. Doing a drop for Julius this morning is necessary. I need the money to pay the PI. So I cart my ass out of bed, shower and drive over to the club.

  I almost don’t recognize Julius in the daylight. When I roll up, he’s standing outside the club, hands in pockets, having a very serious conversation with… Nina? What the fuck? A startled look registers on her face as she sees me emerge from the Camaro.

  I give Julius a quick shoulder bump and turn to her. “Hey, Nina. What are you doing here?” I ask plainly.

  “Not much, just leaving,” she answers shortly. She looks good and pissed. Julius casts her a suspicious look as she turns to walk away.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, very concerned for my coital future with Nina.

  “Who the hell knows,” he replies. “Something’s off with that one.”

  I stare at Nina’s disappearing silhouette. There has to be a reason that she was at that club. But I cannot, for the life of me figure out what that reason might be. “Got the stuff?” I ask, turning back to Julius, anxious to change the subject.

  “Yeah, let’s go in,” he says, still staring at the spot where Nina stood. I get a sudden chill down my spine. Julius believes she’s up to something. And I need to get to her and find out what it is, before he does and significantly shortens her life span.

  Later that day, backpack in hand, I make my way over to the drop point. As per our previously agreed terms, Julius makes sure that it’s a one on one drop. I’m not strapped, which is probably the dumbest thing in the world, because the asshole I’m dealing with most likely is. Julius kept offering to send some of his lackeys along with me, but I declined. I don’t trust very many people, and most of those pussy idiots would sell me out in a heartbeat. That thought causes Emmanuel to pop into my mind. I decide to visit him after I meet the PI.

  The drop goes smoothly. I hand over a small fortune’s worth of drugs to a kid that couldn’t be more than seventeen, in exchange for a large wad of cash. The process truly sickens me. I want to pull the kid by the ears and kick his ass back in the right direction. But what right do I have, being a less than model citizen myself. Still, that’s someone’s kid, taking his life and future into his own hands like that. This is not for me, I confirm to myself as I drive off.

  The bar where I meet the PI is more of a hole in the wall joint than Club J, if that’s even possible. The neon bar sign flickers above the well-worn wooden bar. The chairs are mismatched, and not in a funky, eclectic way. The only patron in the place is the guy I’m meeting, wearing a brown tweed suit and an unbuttoned, dirty-looking cream shirt. It’s like throwback central in here. I feel like the whole scene is about to morph into a black and white speakeasy scene from an old movie.

  Murphy gives me a small nod. I walk over and place the bag of Julius’ cash safely on my lap. The money to pay Murphy is stashed in my pocket.

  “So, who are we looking for?” he asks me flatly.

  “My… Um, ex-girlfriend,” I say, suddenly feeling stupid.

  “Ex? I know you may have thought of this already, and I do want your business, but did you ever consider that she doesn’t want to be found?” Murphy asks. How very fucking Captain Obvious of him.

  “Look man, do you want the job or not?” I ask, getting irritated fast. I pull a photo of Shana taken a few weeks before I last saw her and slide it across the table, Along with a large stack of bills and a paper with some descriptive information.

  “Any idea where she might be?” Murphy drawls, taking a long swig of whiskey.

  Is he fucking kidding me? “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need you!” I spit.

  “Look kid, no harm in asking. Where’s the rest?” he asks counting the money.

  “What rest? There’s a grand there,” I say.

  “Fee is four grand. I have to cover travel and other inci
dentals. Do you think I find people sitting on my ass at this bar table?” he retorts sarcastically.

  I’m here now, and I made this decision, so there is no turning back. My cut from the drop is another grand. That leaves two more that I need to find. If I overthink it, I’ll lose my nerve. So before I have the time to, I pull three grand from Julius’ bag and hand it over to Murphy.

  He extends a hand to me and I shake it, before rattling off my cell number to him and walking out of the bar. With Julius’ bag, now two grand short. Which Julius will surely notice.

  I drive over to the prison, my left leg twitching nervously. I’m as good as fucking dead. In Julius’ eyes, I stole from him. And that was not an acceptable thing.

  Emmanuel walks over to the table in the visitor’s room with his usual swag. Seems like prison is not treating him as badly as I had expected it to.

  “Jay!” he says while sitting opposite me, looking genuinely happy to see me. “What’s good?”

  “Not much, man,” I say, the guilt still rendering me unable to meet his eyes.

  “Don’t feel bad,” he says laughing. “Do you know how fucking good the networking opportunity is in this place? By the time I leave, I’ll have enough connections to manage without Julius.”

  “Speaking of Julius-” I say, thinking of bag I stashed in the spare tire cavity of the Camaro.

  Emmanuel’s face clouds over.

  “The last payment may be a little short,” I say nervously.

  “Due when,” he says, eyeing me sternly.

  “Today. Now,” I reply.

  “How much?” he asks.

  “Two grand.”

  Emmanuel’s jaw works hard as he tries to keep his cool. “Jay, what the fuck are you doing, missing payments to Julius? He will fucking kill you.”

  “I know,” I say rubbing my temples in frustration.

  “Why?” he questions.

  I sigh, not wanting to tell him the real reason, for fear of looking like some lovesick fool. “I hired a PI to find Shana.”