Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)

by Stevie J. Cole

  Stone spotted me. “Man. What the hell happened?” He made his way to me. “I had a nasty voice message from River. She lose her shit on you again?”

  My eyelids quivered as the effects of the cocktail of shit I’d just shoved down my throat and up my nose took hold of me at full force. “Yeah. Something like that,” I slurred. The background noise faded into the ringing in my ears, and everything around me lost all definition. It took a large amount of effort to focus my eyes on anything. “She pretty much tore my damn house up. Set all my drugs on fire. Broke my fucking MTV Moonman.”

  Stone’s eyes bulged. “What?”

  I nodded and snagged a shot from the passing waitress, then smacked her on the ass. Her body jerked, and a few of the shot glasses toppled over, liquor trickling from the edge of the red tray. She snapped her head around, but when she saw it was Jag Steele who had sexually assaulted her, the scowl on her pretty little face turned into a deep grin. The girl coyly batted her lashes at me and trotted off to get more drinks.

  I gulped down the shot of whiskey and set the tiny glass down on an end table.

  Stone was still staring at me in disbelief, his jaw dangling open like it had been broken. “The Moonman?”

  “Yep. The fucking moon man. The bitch picked him up and just hurled him down on my floor. Left a huge crack in the marble and everything. She’s a damn psycho.”

  Stone placed a joint to his lips and took a long drag. His chest puffed out while he held the smoke in his lungs, and his face changed from tan to pink to tomato red before a large white cloud bellowed from his mouth. He passed the twisted piece of paper to me, coughing as his eyes watered. Walking over to another waitress, I grabbed two more shots and took one to him. He tossed it back and recovered himself.

  I took a short puff. The pungent taste of weed coated my throat on the way down.

  “So, what exactly did she flip out over? She’s got just as bad of a problem as you do. Just not with coke,” Stone said.

  I blew the smoke from my lips, watching as the grey fog traveled across the room. “I don’t have a problem.” I handed the joint back to Stone and shrugged. “Man, I don’t know. I told her we weren’t together, she flipped out. Guess she thinks that if I could stay sober, I could keep my dick in my pants and we could get married or some stupid shit like that.”

  Stone busted out into laughter, partly from the weed and partly from the absurdity of what I’d just said.

  “Married?” He laughed again. “You, Jag Steele, married? To one woman?” Stone waved his hand in the air like he was trying to swat a fly away. “What the fuck ever. She has lost her fucking mind. And if you were gonna commit yourself to that kind of monogamous torture, I sure as hell wouldn’t let it be with her. She’s a damn wreck. River’s the kinda girl that would go insane one day and Lorena Bobbitt your ass!”

  I shook my head in agreement and noticed a brunette in a bikini top and a pair of white shorts making her way over to us.

  “Oh, shit!” I moaned. I was pretty certain the brunette skipping over to us was Roxy’s little sister. “How in the hell did she get here? Fucking Rush! I swear to God. That chick’s a stalker. He can’t just invite anybody up here just because they got tits! Fuck.” I glanced back at Stone and pointed at her. “That’s the kind of chick you have to worry about cutting your dick off and making a dildo out of it.”

  She beamed as she stopped in front of us. “Hey, Jag – Stone.”

  Squinting at her, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Do I know you, princess?”

  A dejected look fell over her face. “Uh, I met you guys a couple of weeks ago. My sister’s the one that was the total bitch?”

  “Oh, right, right. The bitch.” I stared at her.

  Stone stepped up and said, “So. How, exactly, did you find out about this party?”

  “Oh, well. The other night my friend was hanging out in the VIP area with you guys at The Club.” She pointed across the room at one of the socialites Rush had been groping a few nights before. “Rush invited her and said she could bring a friend. So. Here I am.” She giggled and rolled her bottom lip underneath her teeth, staring at me as though she might climb me like a spider monkey and dry hump my leg off.

  Stone shook his head. “Sure. Of course he did,” he mumbled under his breath. “So, what’s your name?”

  “Layla.”

  The muscles in my arm twitched. I needed to get out of that crowd, and I needed something to eat too.

  “Well. Layla, lovely to see you again. Tell your sister I send my love, would you?” I winked and leaned down to give her a kiss on her cheek.

  As soon as I pulled away, Layla grabbed her face and squealed. “Jag Steele so just kissed me.”

  Wandering off, her excited babble faded into the background. I walked into the kitchen and opened the pantry. Rush kept a stock of munchies that would put a convenience store to shame. I grabbed a bag of spicy Doritos and headed back out through the noisy swath of people and toward the patio door.

  “Hey,” a voice broke through the bustle. “Rush said not to let anyone out there,” a large, bulky guy said, placing his clammy hand on my shoulder. I swatted his hand away from me and laughed. “I can go out there if I want.”

  I placed my palm over the slender handle, and the guy grabbed my shoulder again. “Don’t think so.”

  “Hey!” I glared at him. “I’m fucking Jag Steele.”

  “I don’t care. Rush said not to let anyone out there. So right now, to me, you’re no one, Jag Steele.”

  “Fuck off,” I muttered, and made my way to the front of the house.

  I walked out the front door and rounded the corner. I came to the brick wall surrounding the backyard and nimbly enough climbed over it, Doritos still in hand. The bright lights from the pool almost blinded me. I hadn’t been high on a combination of drugs like this in a long time, and it felt like my entire body weighed a million tons.

  I stumbled over to a lounge chair, tripping over my own feet and nearly face-planting onto the concrete several times before reaching it. I flopped back onto the thick cushion and stared up, unable to see one damn star. The lights from LA cast a deep blue color across the sky, blotting out any stars’ hopes of reaching the earth. The warm breeze puffed over the patio and rustled the palm leaves hanging over me. Between the perfect temperature of the California summer night, the sound of the water lapping in the pool, the distant murmur of the music, and the variety of uppers and downers coursing through my bloodstream, I couldn’t keep my eyes opened. I passed the hell out.

  I have no idea how long I was knocked out, but I woke when I heard water rhythmically splashing up against the pool, followed shortly by a feminine moan.

  “Oh, God. Rush.”

  Opening one eye, I scanned across the pool deck and saw two people pressed against the side of the pool. My other eye popped open and I realized it was Rush and some chick.

  He kissed her for a briefly. “That’s right, baby. That’s right. Rush is in charge of you now. Don’t need to worry ’bout a thing,” Rush slurred his words so badly they were almost incoherent. “Just give it over to Rush. Give your pussy over to me. I’m the king of your hot, wet pussy.”

  What a dumbass. Girls don’t want to hear shit like that. You tell ’em you own them. They like that alpha male crap. The shit coming from him sounded pathetic

  Rush picked her up and plopped her down on the concrete; the sound of naked, wet ass slapping against the patio pavers echoed off the walls. I craned my neck to get a better view. Rush had already gotten this girl completely nude in his pool, which was fully visible from most areas of his jam-packed house.

  I swung my feet around to get up, but stopped. Deciding this would be more entertaining than going back inside, I nestled back into the lounge chair. I set my Doritos on my lap, crossed one ankle over the other, and put one hand behind my head. A loud crunch echoed over the pool deck when I bit into a chip.

  The girl’s head jerked around. “Somebody’s out he
re,” she gasped.

  Well, no shit.

  Rush looked up, and before he got his panties all in a wad, I rose my chip in the air as if I were toasting him and yelled, “Just me, just Jag. Don’t mind me. I’m rather enjoying the show you two are putting on.”

  It didn’t faze Rush at all. He just went back to what he was doing, whispering something in the girl’s ear. I sat there for a few more minutes, watching him attempt to fuck the girl, and out of boredom I decided to go back into the party. I needed another line anyway.

  Sliding the door open, I stepped in and smiled at the bouncer. He narrowed one eye at me, and I just brushed past him into the middle of the living room. I was on a mission to get some more drugs into my system. I sprinted up the stairs and past one of the bedrooms, where I heard the unmistakable sound of a headboard banging against the wall. I went into Rush’s room, into the bathroom, and pulled the drawer open. While I was taking a few bumps, I heard a shrill cry of pleasure from the room on the other side of the wall.

  I stood staring at myself, watching my pupils blow up when the drug entered my bloodstream. After a few minutes and a couple of pills later, I walked out into the hallway.

  Just as my foot hit the first step, I heard the door to the other bedroom pull open. I saw Pax stagger out of the room. Paying him little attention, I said, “Somebody finally downgrade to the drummer?” I laughed and continued down the stairs. Then I heard a distinctive giggle.

  My fingers gripped the stair rail and I inhaled as I turned to look at the top of the stairs.

  “Oh, shit,” River groaned when she saw me turn around.

  Pax froze, the blissful expression that was stretched over his face quickly dropped into a slack-jawed look of shock. “Uh. Hey, man.” His face grew crimson and he rubbed his palm over his forearm, which was decorated with fresh, raised claw marks. “What are you doing up here?”

  My eyes darted over to River, and her lips flipped up into a pleased grin. I couldn’t believe this. Fuck River, but Pax?

  “Oh, you know, after I’d fucked the piss out of her this afternoon,” I pointed at River, “this bitch tossed all my drugs, so I just came to get some of Rush’s stash. Guess you like sloppy seconds, huh, Pax? Take her. She’s worthless in bed anyway. I had my fill of it a long time ago.”

  Pax stared at me for a second. “Jag. It’s not –”

  Shaking my head, I started down the stairs. “Don’t feed me the bullshit, Pax. Why don’t you just go fuck yourself?”

  I needed to get out of that house, because all I really wanted to do was run back up those stairs and hurl my fist into his scrunched-up, gimpy-looking face, but she wasn’t worth it.

  When Stone saw me coming down the stairs, he shouted, “Jag, get your sorry ass over here, now! Guess who just showed up?”

  I ignored him and pushed my way through the mass of people. Just as I was reaching for the door, I heard a girl arguing with a guy.

  “I said to get off of me,” she grunted. “Leave me alone.”

  A male voice responded with, “Ah, I know you don’t mean that. They never mean it. You just like to make it hard, don’t ya, babe?”

  Spinning around, I saw Layla. One of the punk guys from our opening act had her pinned up against the wall in the foyer. Now, I may be an asshole, but I have no tolerance for someone not getting the hint. I stomped over in her direction, watching as she beat her fists against his chest and tried to shove him away. His hand rubbed over her chest and pulled her bikini top to the side. Rage flew over me, and all the noise around me faded out.

  “Hey! Fuck face,” I shouted. The guy twisted his head around and glared at me. “Get the hell off of her!”

  Before the guy could respond, I grabbed him by the shoulders and tore him away from Layla.

  “She said no, fucker!” I growled, and decked him in the face.

  He stumbled, shaking his head a bit, and then stood up to try to punch me. I knocked him in the side of the head and grabbed him by his hair, slamming his head against the wall. I went to throw him back up against the wall, and he wiggled loose. Blood was running from his nose down over his lips. He blew some of the blood off his mouth and tried to punch me, but missed. He reared back again and this time nailed me right in the face.

  “Fucker!” I groaned and grabbed his face to head-butt him. I wouldn’t let go. I had his short hair laced between my fingers and just kept ramming his head into the wall. He was flailing around and got a few more good swings in, but, thanks to the cocaine, I didn’t feel a damn thing.

  By now, several people had come over and were shouting. Stone sprinted over and grabbed me by the arms, holding me back. The guy slid down the wall, completely dazed, with blood pouring from his nose and forehead.

  Stone tightened his hold on me because I kept kicking my feet at the guy, trying to hit him one last time.

  “Man, Jag. Calm down. What the hell happened?”

  I was panting, trying to catch my breath, and pointed at Layla who was still against the wall, now in tears. “He was fucking with her. She said no.” I glared at the guy. “No, fucker. She said no!”

  The bouncer came rushing over and escorted the bloodied piece of trash out. Rush had made his way over to Layla and was checking to make sure she was okay. I felt blood trickle out of my nose and rubbed the back of my hand under it. “Fuck! He busted my nose,” I shouted.

  Stone came up to me. “Aw, bro. Your nose is really swollen, possibly a little crooked. You should probably go to the ER, get it checked out or something.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” I mumbled. “Guys like that just really piss me off.” I held the sleeve of my shirt under my nose and watched the red color bleed into the fabric.

  Layla walked up to me, tears streaming down her face, and she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. “Thank you! Thank you!” Pulling away, she looked at me. “You want me to take you to the hospital?”

  Just then Pax walked in, with River not too far behind him.

  “Nah.” I turned and walked toward the door. “I’ll be fine…as long as you and your sister stop making me beat guys’ asses.” I glared at her and opened the door. “Make sure you tell your sister that that jackass cokehead lead singer of the band she despises kept you from getting molested by some piece of shit, would you, princess?” I glanced over at Pax. “And fuck off, would you, Pax? Even you deserve something better than that skank.”

  Chapter 21

  I thought about driving to the ER, but I didn’t want to bother with it. I just drove down through Van Nuys, bought some coke, and then drove around for probably an hour. I stopped at a convenience store to grab a soda and a pack of gum. As I was checking out, I glanced down through my sunglasses and noticed that my face was splashed across all the tabloids.

  Various pictures from the Grammys were on just about every magazine, with headlines saying, “Jag on Downward Spiral.” “Jagger Steele Relapses into Drug Addiction.” “Will He Ever Stay Clean?” And then, of course, one of those ridiculous magazines had a blurry photo of a guy with long hair passed out on the side of a road and the headline read: “Jag Steele, Dead from Overdose at Twenty-seven.” Laughing, I grabbed that one and slammed it down on the counter.

  “Ever seen a ghost?” I asked the cashier. He smiled and shrugged as he handed me my receipt. I left the magazine on the counter, and deep down inside I knew that that headline in particular was closer to the truth than I wanted to admit.

  Heading to my car, I glanced up and saw a small dive bar across the street with only two cars parked outside. I opened my car door and put the bag inside, then made my way across the street to the little bar.

  The entrance was a glass door with burglar bars on it; the sign on the door was so old it had a picture of a Coors Light can that had been retired for a decade. A bell dinged as I pushed the door open. The bar was nothing more than one room with three tables and about six stools at the counter. An old man who resembled the Godfather was hunched over the bar reading a Playbo
y, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked startled that I’d just walked in and eyed me as I made my way to the bar.

  Straightening up, he said, “You know it’s dark outside, right, son?” The cigarette stuck to his lip as he spoke, some of the ash falling off and landing on the counter.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

  He took a drag, then put the cigarette out in a tin ashtray and closed the Playboy. “Then why you got those damn sunglasses on? You look like a damn fool.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. This guy had no idea who the hell I was. Glancing around, I realized there was only one other man in there who looked like he was about seventy, and he kept nodding off over his whiskey glass. I pushed my sunglasses back on top of my head and drug the bar stool out to take a seat.

  The old man stared at me. “You look like a damn woman with that hair.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  He shrugged and turned to grab a glass. “Are you gonna order something, Sally?”

  “Bourbon.”

  He poured my drink, took my card, and then left me alone, only coming over to insult me when I needed another glass. “Hurt” by Johnny Cash played quietly in the background. The entire bar started to shake; the glasses stacked up on the counter rattled as a train rumbled by. The loud blare of the horn made me wince. I sat there, drinking and wondering what the hell I was going to do. Forget River and Pax. I had something actually worth worrying about. Part of me felt I should just sign the kid over. I mean, it’s not like he had any idea who I was anyway, it wouldn’t hurt him. As far as he knew, I’d already abandoned him. Stephanie had a guy she felt like could raise him. Stability. If I signed him over I could give Layne stability…something I’d never had.

  Tipping my glass back, I sucked in an ice cube and crunched it, and then my phone vibrated. I reached down to fish my phone out from my jeans and saw a text message. I opened the attachment and saw a picture of a newborn. The announcement read: “Jagger Layne Steele, 8 lbs, 9 oz.” Several other messages came through, each of them pictures of him. One from his first birthday, one of him sitting in the middle of the floor covered in flour, one of him at the beach. The last one she sent me was what looked like a family picture: Stephanie, Layne, and some guy holding him – just like he was the father. The kid looked so much like me it was ridiculous.