Rock Bottom (The Handler Series Book 1)

by Angie M. Brashears

  I lean towards him and ask. “Oh? And how are you going to do that, big boy?”

  “For starters, there will be none of that. My brother would pull my head off…” He leans back in his chair, like I’m unpredictable. I’ve been getting that a lot lately.

  “No flirting ever, got it? Our fathers shared the same woman, we won’t be doing that.”

  “Now I feel icky. Sorry about that. Half the time, I don’t even know I’m flirting.” I say.

  “Thank you for the apology Nova.” He says with a grin, and we’re right back to professional. How is it that I like him so much already.

  “Who do you work for?” I ask.

  “You.”

  “I didn’t hire you.” I say back.

  “Sure, you did. Back at the hospital you asked me to get you ‘things’. That’s what I’m here for. To get whatever you need and I take my job seriously. Consider this a trial basis.” He says.

  “What’s are you? A life coach or something?” I ask.

  “No and this isn’t rehab either. We’re far from saviors, think of us as…maintainers. You’re going to drink, do drugs, have sex, hell that’s what a rock star does. We just make sure you don’t kill yourself while you’re at it. Here, let me show you. Ilsa, can you bring Nova’s box over?” He says and my ears perk up.

  She places a steel suitcase on the desk between us. The size of a makeup case, excitement starts to build when my fingerprint is coded in. Inside, there’s sixteen different compartments, all lined in red velvet. Each little square holds a small slice of heaven. Stamped with the drug’s name and sealed for sanitary reasons.

  I look up with stars in my eyes. “Is this for real? Drugs in carefully packaged bite sized, careful not to overdose packages? It’s like Christmas.” I breathe.

  Almost apologetically, he says. “It’s a little generic, just a sampler pack really. Best I could do on short notice. But everything’s organic, as close to pure as we could get. Once we’ve earned your trust, the packets will be stocked to your specifications. Now you know why you need to tell us the truth?” He asks.

  Running my hands over the mint sized packs, I nod and look around. It’s just me and him. The help has disappeared.

  “And if I decide to buy? How much will my ‘needs’ cost me?” I ask.

  “Ten percent of everything you make, and our job is to make you a success.”

  Success? What does it matter if there’s no one to share it with. I swivel to face the door. I’m such a shit. Shamus told me his dad died and all I cared about was my next high. Chewing on a hangnail I ask Justice. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”

  “My brother? No. As you can see, he’s working through some things.” He looks at my face for a moment and continues. “My brother’s the kind of guy who sees someone drowning and runs right past the life raft and hurdles over the side, diving into the swirling waters, just so you won’t drown alone. A bad guy is just a good guy that’s been done dirty too many times. Don’t drag him down with you, is all I’m saying, because from the looks of him. Today would be a good day to die, as long as it was you.”

  Huffy, I realize. He’s not telling me I can’t have drugs, just not my favorite one. His brother.

  Clearing his throat, Justice says. “You asked who I work for. A simple question which deserves a simple answer. We work for you. Day and night, a team is on the job. Besides, ‘maintenance’ he waves to my case of goodies. They’re scouring the internet, looking for negative press and scrubbing it away. Today, a tidbit popped into my email. It’s not hard, I’m sure your ‘other’ assistants had alerts when your name popped up?” The air quotes and the grin is too much.

  “Yes, Justice, I’m sure you can see what a fabulous job they’ve done so far but go on. You’re setting up google alerts. I’ve got to tell you, so far I’m not seeing 10% of the work.”

  He looks me in the eye and says. “Here’s something you don’t know. When Sell Out Magazine announced your overdose, they never said if you were alive or not. Your album, Unapologetic, is sitting in the number one spot on iDisc. Assuming you didn’t want that money to go directly into Rusty Steele’s pocket?” He raises his eyebrows, I hope he sprains them, and continues.

  “I got iDisc to hold the six million dollar check they’ve got with your name on it. I told them you’d be coming down to pick it up in person, take a few pictures, shake a few hands. But it might be a little more than that, ‘once your exhaustion is cured.’ The pile is growing by the minute. You’re iGold. Am I hired?”

  I fall back against the chair, as the wind whistles out of me. The last dusty puff of air taste like Cherry Slurpee and the room spins.

  I put my head between my legs and try to still my quaking legs.

  Justice comes around the desk and fans me with a throw pillow.

  “Can someone standing around, grab her a glass of water?” He asks.

  “Bourbon.” I croak out. “Rocks.”

  Justice kneels next to me and brushes a sweaty strand of hair back, so he can come right into my nervous breakdown. “What we say here, stays here, you read me?”

  My stunned blink, he takes as a yes.

  Rolling his eyes, he says. “Doubting me, woman? Who do I work for? As your Handler, I have to advise that you walk out of this pittance of a contract you signed with my brother -we can claim duress- and walk into a new multi-million dollar one with one of the bigger casinos. The buzz around you is fierce. Do I have the Midas touch, or what?” He asks.

  All I can say is, “Wow.”

  Ilsa walks over and hands me a bottle, but no glass. “Good thinking.” I say and use my teeth to remove the cap and drink right out of the bottle.

  “Get comfy, Ilsa. You might be here longer than a week. Sounds like I might need some long-term limits set because I’ve got six million reasons to do something stupid.”

  “I’ll be here for as long as you need me,” she says, but she sounds distracted.

  I look over and see her whisper something to Justice. They share a curious look and I need to know. Using the bottle, I motion between them. “What’s that about, that look?” I ask.

  Justice lets out a long sigh. Without answering me directly, he turns to Ilsa and gives me all the information I need to know.

  “Is he still outside?” He asks.

  Those four little words and a hot air balloon expands in my chest, ‘He’ being Shamus. Who else? It has to be him. Still outside? Which means he never left. Ergo…

  Resigned, Ilsa says. “He is beyond pissed. Said if we didn’t let him see her in the next…,” she looks at her watch. “We’ve got a minute before he’s on the phone to report a kidnapping.”

  Justice turns to me with steely eyes. “That better be the last person to accuse me of kidnapping this week.”

  I nod, but it’s sort of funny. Kidnapping.

  Smiling, I turn to see who he’s glaring at. But the rooms empty. Puzzled, I turn back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He holds up both hands with a well face.

  “What me? You’re saying, I?” I begin.

  He rolls his eyes. “Shamus was half right. You need to be handled with care…and a little duct tape.”

  “Ha-ha.” I turn to my new Busty German friend and nod towards the door. “Ilsa, let him in.”

  Shamus strides into the room, ignoring everyone except me. Kneeling in front of my chair, he looks into my eyes. “You alright?” he asks.

  In that moment, if I said Justice tried to hurt me or even looked at me funny, Shamus would not hesitate. A man in your corner is a dangerous weapon to have.

  Reassuringly, I squeeze his hand. “I’m fine, Shamus, really. Just a little tired.”

  He glares at his brother. “This will be over soon and then we’ll get you home.”

  Where’s that? But, I nod.

  He sits on the couch, where I can see him.

  “About the drugs….” Justice says and Shamus nods.

  It’s up to me. Tell
the truth or feel like shit the whole time I’m here.

  “Oh, you think I ended up here because I’m a junkie? That’s cute. The drugs are there to help with withdrawals. First, when I couldn’t get it, then even when I could. I’m not looking to stop.” I take another sip from the bottle and continue. Just like you lie about your weight at the DMV, I say. “I’m a dabbler.”

  “Still don’t trust us yet, Nova?” Shamus asks, but there’s no accusation there.

  And I continue. “Sex is my vice and I might be more than a dabbler. Like a little kid in front of a birthday cake, icing all over his face, I can’t get enough of it. It just feels so right, I want to dive in face first. Savor the smell of it, the taste.”

  I clear my throat, and this time I’m not looking at Shamus. I can’t. My voice sounds small. “Doesn’t matter who it’s with. Whether it’s known, like it became with Rusty. Or unknown and exotic, like trying a new place, I just want it. And then there’s Shamus, you were wonderful by the way.” I say.

  Hiding a grin, he shakes his head and blushes.

  “But why?” Justice asks, but it’s Shamus that leans forward, interested.

  Perplexed, I ask. “Why what?”

  “The sex.” Justice asks.

  “That’s an easy one. For one minute, I’m special.”

  “What about diseases?” Justice asks.

  “None, I get tested. No matter how high or drunk I was, I paid Kiki to make sure there was no love without a glove. Until she slept with my ex. Then I was no longer special enough to protect.”

  The rooms quiet. With longing, I look at the drug buffet, reservation for one and say. “Looks like you took care of all of my needs, but the biggest one. What if my drug of choice is sex with random guys? Are you going to package Shamus into soy sauce packages and dole him out too?”

  Justice looks up thoughtfully. “Is that what you want?”

  “I thought we were being honest here?” I scoff.

  “We are.” He’s got a wicked poker face.

  I look from him to Shamus, who crosses and uncrosses his legs, making room for that big ‘D’ in his lap.

  I lean forward. Chin in my hand, I say. “Let me get this straight. Shamus is on the table?”

  Justice doesn’t even look at his brother when he says. “He’s as random as they come. And bonus, he’s willing to put in the hard work.”

  We both look at Shamus. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  Dirty fucking boy.

  I was wrong about Shamus. Justice is the biggest enabler.

  Chapter 23

  NovaKain

  Drugs, sex and rock and roll? Have my cake and eat it too? Can it be?

  Sounds like a bunch of false promises. Before my hopes have a chance to get up, depression sets in. Any joy that isn’t self-induced is suspicious. Instead of leaning into any pleasure, I fear it.

  Leaning my head in my hands, I stretch the skin at my temples for the pounding headache that’s threatening.

  Ilsa steps forward. In a no more nonsense voice, she states. “Enough for today. Are her quarters ready?”

  “I’m not staying here?” Feeling drunk, tired, and done, I don’t feel like moving from this chair. Shamus offers to show me, but Ilsa makes it clear, his help isn’t needed.

  Instead, my own personal valet, Sean shows us to my place. At the top, of another tower, I wish I had a wheelchair right about now.

  “This place is nicer than my house.” I mutter and turn back to nudge Kiki, but she’s not there. No one’s got my back.

  Now I’m surrounded by people on the payroll. Wasn’t it always that way though?

  I’ve never had someone in my corner, just because. The thought makes me sad and I turn to the help and say. “Once I step through this door, I’ll be leaving behind every person that knows the ins and outs of me. This won’t hurt a bit.” I say, with a cringe.

  Ilsa doesn’t say a word. Instead she takes my hand in a firm grip.

  Crossing the threshold, I almost trip on my new start, but Ilsa’s got me.

  To the left is the living room, in beiges and teals, and all around me…. windows. The valet chooses now to give me the tour. “Everything’s controlled by a tablet. All eco-friendly, designed by Shamus himself.”

  “He’s an architect?” I ask.

  “No, a conservationist. This is his apartment.”

  “Will he be sleeping over?” I ask.

  “No, it’s all yours, but with a few changes.” The valet winks.

  Interested, I ask. “Like what?”

  He stops fluffing pillows on a sunken couch that faces…more windows. “Well, his personal items and clothes for one thing. They’ve all been moved to the suite we just left. His bike has been moved to the garage.” He says.

  Interested, I ask. “Bike? Like a motorcycle?”

  With an indulgent smile, he says. “No, Mr. Malone drives a ten-speed. Do you want the tour?”

  And I realize I know nothing about my personal fuck boy. Following him into the master bedroom, I sound grouchy. “Quickly please, I’m a little over today.”

  Ignoring the invitation, the pillowy bed with crisp white sheets is offering, I turn to an oblong porcelain piece sitting in the middle of the room.

  As if I’ve found the golden egg, he says. “Jacuzzi tub with full views of the desert, at your fingertips.”

  Holding up an iPad, he points to a blue icon. “It’s this button here.”

  A motor turns with a low humming sound and the egg lays on its side. Now it looks like a fat bobsled. Jets spray water at full force. In the blink of an eye, it’s half way filled with frothing, steamy water. When it’s full, I trail a hand through the churning waters as melancholy hits. I don’t know these people.

  And they don’t know me.

  “I’m not really a jacuzzi kind of girl.” I say rather stiffly and dry my hand on my skirt.

  “Not everyone is.” Sean says and hits another button. As the water drains, the pulling, sucking sound is too loud and grates on my nerves.

  Everything’s too clean. Too open, where am I supposed to hide my stash? Speaking of…

  “Where’s my stuff?” I ask.

  “Right here. Everything’s been unpacked and laundered.” Standing in front of an opaque wall, he hits a button and the glass clears. Half the closet is full.

  “I know all that didn’t come from my one suitcase.” I say.

  “Shamus added a few things. Mostly samples for the upcoming concerts. Would you like to see them?” He asks.

  But I’m more worried about the stuff that isn’t there.

  “No, thank you.” I say and walk to the windows instead. Floor to ceiling seamless views are afforded at the top. But what do they matter if I’ve got no one but Sean, the valet, to share them with?

  I rest my head on the cool glass. Beyond the neon lights, way out past the parking lots, I see the stark outline of craggy vistas and behind them, mountains. The view, even at midnight is spectacular.

  “Bet it gets hot in here during the day.” I whisper.

  I fucking hate when I’m like this.

  It’s like watching a pot, ready to boil. Flames sputtering blue as my temperament boils over. Instead of reaching for the pot, removing it from the situation, in the state I’m in, I’d probably grab the knob and turn up the flame. Whiny, irritable, hostile…maybe it’s my periodico? I think back.

  Nope, a week too early.

  Ready to help, the valet asks. “Pardon me, Miss Kain?”

  Ugh, even the sound of my own name pisses me off.

  My eyes water with angry tears as I stare at him. “Like I said, I bet it gets fucking hot in here. I hate the heat.”

  “Oh no. That’s temperature-controlled glass. If you want, you can black out the world with just a touch of a button.”

  “Do that.” I say and walk past, bumping him on the way by.

  Instead of apologizing, I add. “Way too small for my taste. Is it possible to get my own drink
, or is there a button for that too?”

  God, why am I acting this way. Hate is seeping out of my pores. Nothing feels right, including this apartment. So glossy and beautiful, it looks like it came out of a magazine, and all I want to do is turn the page.

  Cheez-us, take a pill or something.

  My stomach clenches and it comes to me. They washed my clothes.

  More like searched my clothes for contraband. There were about six blunts in there and a handful of pills in various pockets and purses. “Where’d they go?” I wonder aloud.

  Before he pardons himself, again, I wave him away. “You can go, I’ve got it.”

  “As you wish.” He bows and tries to hand me the iPad, but I’m already moving towards the dresser. I don’t need buttons for where I’m going. I pull open the first drawer. Black lacquered. The front feels silky, just like the pile of new lace panties inside.

  What the? They threw out my granny panties?

  I loved those! Well, I was used to them since I never seemed to make it to Target to get new ones. I pull open the next drawer and it’s just as I thought.

  “Cheers, Brassieres.”

  An assortment of bullet pushups stare back at me and I get that feeling. On a calm day, it’s the random breeze that raises the hair on the back of my neck. Yeah, that’s about how it feels to be caught in the act.

  “Supposedly this is my stuff, so technically, I’m not snooping.” I say and pull the next drawer open, bathing suits. Really cute bathing suits.

  From behind me, Ilsa says. “Technically, it’s me who is snooping. Justice wanted you to have this. Said you forgot it. Goodnight, Nova.”

  I don’t need to turn, I know what she left by the effect it has on my body. It’s very presence in the room calms me. The aluminum case, no bigger than a carry on, beckons me. It sits open, and inside, a junkie’s dream. A sampling of every kind of remedy I’ll need, and some I don’t, it’s all there for me, just like Justice said. So why am I scared? Absolutely petrified that if I start, I’ll never be able to stop?

  “Ilsa wait. I’m going to need a little um….” Fighting back nausea, I can’t even finish. I swallow to push down my stomach, which is trying to punch me in the traitorous face. That’s when it hits me. This is not a test. I’m in fucking withdrawals.