Razor's Edge (Afflictions)

by Racquel Reck

  Someone slams into my shoulder. It’s my brother. A bottle of Guinness in hand, Logan takes a swig and smiles. “What’s up, bro? Worried about leaving Shay?”

  I slam my fist into his arm.

  His eyebrows shoot toward the rafters. He rubs where I punched him. “What the hell was that for?”

  I didn’t mean to hit him. That woman and everything that’s happened have me on a short fuse. It’s not Logan’s fault. And great, now I’ve got guilt to add to all the fucked up feelings I’m having. Not going to spill my Shay problems. I’m trying to forget about them. “Sorry, bro. Just not in the partying mood.”

  He nods. “You know what you need? A shot of Jager.”

  Drowning my sorrows in the bottle is such a fucking cliché. It’s something my mother always did and something I usually stay away from. Always had my pot to help me out, but one has to wonder what it’d be like to get totally annihilated. The most I’ve ever had is maybe one or two beers here and there. Maybe, just for one night, I won’t have to be the designated driver. Yeah, a shot of Jager seems pretty fucking good right now.

  “I’ll take a shot and a Heineken. Is Rictor here?” If I’m going to get obliterated, might as well do it right. Rictor deals almost any kind of drug you can think of, and I can’t get medical marijuana anymore. But I know he has a stash of some grade-A medical shit.

  “Na, he was afraid to show his face after what went down at Harper’s.” Logan and Rictor have been boys since middle school, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’d still be talking to him.

  “His number the same?”

  “Yeah, hasn’t changed. Why?”

  “I need some smoke.”

  “You go call him, I’ll grab you a beer.” Logan heads through the crowd.

  I shouldn’t call Rictor, not after what he did. Truth is, I don’t know any other dealers besides him. So I make my way toward the exit. The crowd is so thick I haven’t seen Bryan, Wiley or Lina, and I don’t want to bump into them. If they knew I was going out back to call the one person we all can’t stand, they’d be pissed at me. I’ve got enough shit on my emotions right now. I punch through the door hoping they aren’t out there smoking.

  They’re not. Just a small group of people I don’t know, in a circle, smoking.

  I pull out my phone and search through the contacts list until I find Rictor’s number and hit call.

  It rings a few times before he picks up. “Yeah.”

  “I need a favor.”

  Rictor’s obnoxious roar of laughter comes through the phone. “So, the guy who does me wrong wants a favor?”

  “I wasn’t the only one. It was a group thing.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  “You gonna help me out or not?”

  “I’m out front. Give me a sec and meet me in the back corner of the lot.”

  “You’re here already?” Why Rictor would show up at the bar where he knows there are three dudes who want to kick his ass baffles the hell out me.

  “Needed the money. It’s Sunday and since it’s your going away party, the only bar that’s packed tonight.”

  I hang up. My feet take me to meet Rictor, but my mind flashes with unease. Rictor does shady shit all the time. Jumping me at my own party is the kind of shit he’d do. I might have just set myself up, but after everything I’ve lost, I have nothing else to lose. Your baby.

  I kick the gravel and spray it out in front of me. You can’t take care of a baby if you’re a dead man. Yeah, maybe coming back here was a bad idea. I turn to head back to the bar when headlights illuminate me. They cut off as Rictor’s Range Rover pulls into the spot next to me.

  He rolls down his window.

  No one is in the passenger seat, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone in the back. Fear prickles up my spine.

  Rictor grins wide. “Get in.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. You got the stuff?”

  “Depends on what you need.”

  “You know what I want.”

  He shrugs. “With your medical card, you’ve never come to me before. So what’ll it be? Coke? Crack? I got some X in.”

  My mind spins. He thinks I want something hardcore? “Therapist switched my prescription.”

  He nods and unlocks the door. “Hop in. We’ll spark up the blunt I got.”

  Wary of getting into the car, I look back at the bar. Wiley, Bryan and Lina step outside and light up. I don’t want them to see me with Rictor, but I really need a blunt.

  Decision made, I walk around the front of his Rover so my friends won’t see me and hop into the passenger seat, but not without checking the back seat first. No one’s in there to jump my ass, so I climb in.

  Rictor rolls up his window. “Not gonna jump you, man. Chill.” He takes a blunt out of his center console and sparks up. Taking a deep hit, he holds it in then passes the blunt to me.

  I hesitate for a moment. Shay wouldn’t like what I’m about to do. She picked Gary over you. Who cares what she thinks? It’s over. My chest constricts and my eyes burn, but I won’t fucking cry. Not in front of Rictor. Shay doesn’t deserve my tears. I take the blunt and inhale deep, letting the smoke fill my lungs until they reach their capacity. God, I missed this. I hold it in until a cough threatens to erupt, then let it out slowly.

  I cough over and over again. My lungs burn as I pass the blunt back to Rictor.

  Rictor takes it and chuckles.

  I recover. “What’s so goddamn funny?”

  “I’ve never seen you that desperate for a hit before, and trust me, I’ve seen you desperate.” He quirks a brow as he hits the blunt again. “In fact,” he talks through the smoke coming out of his mouth and nose, “I haven’t seen you cough that bad in a while.”

  I shrug. “Haven’t smoked in a while.” And I should be feeling something off that hit. But all I feel is grief.

  Rictor laughs, shakes his head and passes the blunt back to me. “Why the hell not?”

  “I quit. And the reason doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

  Liar. She still matters.

  No, she doesn’t. I can’t fucking take this shit. My heart burns and shrivels with every memory of us together. All the things she said about making her life better. About getting her and her son away from that abusive prick.

  You’re ten thousand times the man Gary will ever be.

  She lied. She just wanted a safe place for a while and used me until it was time for her to go back to that asshole. Played me.

  “Whoa, dude.” Rictor’s words snap me out of my daze, and I feel tears on my cheeks.

  Fuck. I’m crying. In front of Rictor of all fucking people. I wipe my eyes. “It’s smoky in here. My eyes are watering.”

  Rictor eyes me. “Yeah, okay. Hey, check it. I got some stuff that might ease your pain.”

  “I’m not in pain.” Like I want this asshat to see me this way. “How much for a quarter?”

  “Don’t have a quarter. All I got’s a blunt’s worth.”

  He opens his glove box. There are three Ziploc bags full of different-colored pills, a small bag with shrooms, some more Ziploc bags filled with smaller white baggies and another filled with bigger off-white baggies. He grabs the blunt laying on top of it and hands it to me, then reaches in and takes out a speedball.

  “Here. Take this, too. That blunt won’t cure what ails you, my friend.”

  “I’m not doing a coke-and-H combo.” Hell fucking no. My dad O’Ded on H, and I’m not going down that jacked-up road. I toss it back to him. “Besides, I don’t have the cash on hand for that shit.”

  “Consider it a freebie. I owe you for the shit that went down.” He tosses it back to me. “It’s an olive branch.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  He shrugs. “Keep it—you might.”

  I consider it for a moment. I hold the bag between my hands and stare down at the thing that killed my dad. It’s not the same. Dad never did coke, so speedballs weren’t his thing. But the H in
it makes it kinda the same. Why did he go there? Did he know that he was going to OD? What’s so damn special about it?

  Okay, so maybe the thought of trying it appeals to me—learning why he did it. Was it to escape my mother? Maybe. Could I use it to escape Shay? I pocket it.

  “Thanks, man.” I exit and smoke billows out with me. I slam the door.

  “Morg.” Rictor has his window down and the tail end of our blaze session slithers out into the night air. “Tell the guys I’m sorry. I was messed up pretty bad that night, and I’d like it if we could squash it.”

  I nod then walk away. I have no intention of telling my band anything. They don’t need to know I was so desperate for pot that I sought Rictor out. They sure as hell don’t need to know about my heartache, either. I need some alcohol. It will go perfectly with the high that just slammed into me. It will wash away all the negative. Right now, I don’t want to wallow. I’m going on tour. I should be happy about that.

  Jay-Z blasts as I enter the bar.

  “Hey, Morgan.” Emily hands me a beer as she slides up next to me. “Want to dance?”

  Why the hell not? I’m a single man, now. Shay’s never going to be with me the way we had planned. Planned. Funny word, since nothing I ever plan seems to work out right. “Hold that thought. I have to take a leak first.”

  Not very romantic, but I’m not going for romance. I just need someone to take my mind off Shay. Emily has been throwing herself at me lately, so I know she’ll be down when I get back.

  As I walk into the bathroom and over to the urinal, I reach for my fly. The drug in my pocket brushes across my hand. Maybe I should just flush it. People are going to notice it and wonder what it is. I change direction and head to a stall. After relieving myself, I pull out the speedball.

  I play with the baggie as I stare at it. I crack the seal and hover it over the toilet. I’m prepared to flush it away. I want to flush everything away. The memories of her, what I thought we were building, and the feelings of love that, pathetic as it feels, I still have for her.

  Snorting it might help.

  No. I won’t do that. That won’t help a damn thing. It would ruin everything.

  Why not ruin everything? Do I really deserve it?

  No, I don’t. I smoked up in the parking lot with Rictor. I couldn’t keep my promise to Shay then, so why keep it now? I betrayed my friends by seeking Rictor out. I’m a douche bag and deserve everything that comes at me. Might as well be numb when everything crashes around me. Is that why Dad did it? To block out the abuse Mom put us through?

  Yes, do it! Do it and find out! Maybe he was onto something. I pour out a small pile on the back of the toilet, then pocket the rest. My hands are shaking with the thought of what I’m about to do. After retrieving my credit card from my wallet I begin chopping it up and line it into a huge rail.

  This is what I need.

  My heart bangs inside my chest. The blunt I had in the Rover has done nothing to calm my nerves. This shit won’t either. It’s got H in it. It’ll be a different high. It’s what I need. I repeat to myself as I begin to roll up a five-dollar bill.

  “Morg.” The bathroom echoes with the sound of Wiley’s voice.

  I freeze.

  “I saw you come in here, man. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m taking a dump. Leave me alone.” I continue to roll the five, preparing myself to snort up the rail that’s in front of me.

  “In a bar?” He stops at my stall door.

  “Yeah, and I’m having difficulties. Go away.”

  “All right.” Wiley backs away from the stall.

  I let out a breath and turn toward the off-white line in front of me. My heart pounds in my ears as I anticipate Wiley’s departure. Seconds, minutes tick by, but the door to the bathroom hasn’t opened or closed.

  “Tell me you’re not wait—”

  The stall door comes flying open and smacks me in the back. I slam forward onto the line, and it smears all over the right side of my cheek.

  “I fucking knew it!” Wiley yanks me back by my shirt collar. “You snorting coke now?”

  “It’s not coke.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I saw you get out of Rictor’s Rover.” He points at my cheek. “The evidence is all over your face!” He tosses me across the bathroom into the row of sinks. I reach out to grab the counter but land on my ass instead.

  He hovers over me. “Are you fucking stupid? You have a great girl and a kid on the way. What the hell are you doing?”

  Slowly, I stand and grab some paper towel to wipe the side of my face. “Guess you didn’t get the memo from Tryst.”

  Wiley’s in the mirror behind me, his eyes blazing with anger. “What’s Tryst got to do with this?” His jaw drops. “Mother. Fucker. I knew there was something off about that guy. He’s got you snorting coke?”

  “It’s not coke.”

  “Sure the hell looks like it to me.”

  “It’s a speedball.” I turn around and prepare myself for the beat down I’m possibly about to get. I’ll welcome it. It might be fun. At least I won’t think about her anymore.

  Wiley moves toward me slowly, assessing me. “Are. You. In-fucking-sane? There’s hero—”

  “I know what the hell’s in it.” I grip the counter. I don’t need Wiley telling me what I am or what I should or shouldn’t be doing.

  “Then why?” All of the fury I just saw in Wiley’s eyes fades. His shoulders slump.

  “Shay went back to Gary.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  My heart pounds anger through me. He’s been an ass since I hooked up with Shay. Now he wants to be a good friend? “Like you care. You’ve been against us from the start.”

  Wiley takes a deep breath. “I just was worried about you. You’re my boy. I didn’t want you to have to go through this. I was beginning to,” he shakes his head, “trust her.”

  It’s hard to be mad at Wiley. Especially when he’s only looking out for me. I turn around to wash my face in the sink.

  “Doing a speedball isn’t going to make the pain go away. It will for a moment then when it wears off your problems will always be there.”

  “I know this already.”

  “Do you?” Wiley glances at the stall. “Seems like you didn’t know a second ago.”

  “I did know. I don’t care.”

  He pushes me. “You better care. It’s your life, but I’m your friend and I’m not going to let you shit all over it.” He reaches into my pocket and grabs the bag then walks over to the toilet.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He opens it and empties it. “I’m not letting you go down like that.”

  I shrug. “I can always get more.”

  “And I’ll always be there to stop your stupid ass.” He flushes the toilet. “I don’t care if I have to involve the others. I’m not going to let you snort your life away.”

  He has a point. But something cracked inside me when she told me to get out of her life. The carefree Morgan is dead. I gave her everything that was me and it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough, and if I can’t be enough then why go back to the way I was before? It won’t accomplish anything but leaving me open to feel this way again. I might not need that drug, but it sure as hell would have helped me to toughen up and be the man I need to be—which is someone who doesn’t care.

  But your friends will always be there and they don’t deserve to see you destroy yourself.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine what?” Wiley walks with me to the door.

  “I won’t touch the shit again.”

  “Good.” He pats my back and holds the door open.

  As we head out into the hall we smack into Emily. She’s dressed to kill in black leather capris and a low-cut light blue top. Her big breasts sit perfectly, showing the right amount of cleavage, and the way the tank hugs her curves would give any hot-blooded man a painful hard-on. Not me, though.
>
  She brushes up next to me and bats her pretty brown eyes. “Want to dance, Morg?”

  Normally I’d say no. Shay is the only woman I want to dance with, but she’s gone. And maybe Emily is right—maybe she could be the perfect distraction.

  Shay

  Malarkey’s was packed by the time I pulled into the lot. I combed it for ten minutes before giving up and parking at Wal-Mart half a block away. Luckily it’s May, and the night air is warm but all I feel is cold.

  Gary wants me to sleep with him twice a week, and he won’t kill Morgan or take Ben. I told him if he truly wants me back, he needs to give me some time to think about it. He agreed and left. I’m not going back to him. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wanted to save Morgan, but I hurt him instead. The look in his eyes when I said it was over crushed some part of me. I didn’t mean it. I can’t let him go on tour thinking the worst of me. I need to explain why we can’t be together.

  My black peep-toe pumps clack up the cement steps to the door as I fish my ID out of my satchel. I hear a familiar laugh and look up. Bebe’s sitting on the brick wall at the top of the steps, smoking a cigarette, and talking to some tall black guy. I roll my eyes. Leave it to her. She never wastes any time finding her victim for the night.

  Climbing the stairs, I stop when Bebe hops down.

  “Um… I didn’t think you were coming.” She hugs me.

  I pull away. “You knew I was.”

  “Yeah, but when they showed and you didn’t, I assumed you weren’t coming.” She stares and cocks an eyebrow.

  “It’s been a long night, and I did some things I wasn’t proud of.”

  “Like…” She rolls her eyes. “I dunno, basically have sex with my brother in front of Morgan? The dude’s pretty messed up about it.”

  Shit. They told her. “Bebe, I—there’s no way to explain this. But I fucked up. And I need to make it right.”

  Bebe leans against the wall and fidgets with her fingers. Bebe never fidgets. A couple minutes pass before her eyes meet mine. “Yeah, you fucked up. Maybe you should confront Morgan before he does something stupid.”