by Alexa Land
*****
I had no idea how long I’d been drifting when someone knocked on the door. The bedroom didn’t have a working lock, so my friend Gabriel poked his head in the room when I mumbled, “Yeah?”
“Hey. I was hoping it was you when I heard someone in here,” he said. “Can I join you?”
When I nodded, he hurried across the room and climbed onto the mattress with me. The drug made us both affectionate, and whenever we were at the Haunted House at the same time, he always ended up seeking me out. Gabriel draped an arm over my stomach and looked up at me. He was slender and beautifully androgynous with long, dark hair and smoky eye makeup. I noticed his pupils were constricted into tight little dots, even in the dim light. Mine would be, too.
I brushed his hair from his face. He’d told me once that he was twenty-five, but he looked much younger. My thoughts were cloudy, unfocused. I might have told him he was pretty. He said, “I’m glad you’re here, Zachary. I was hoping you’d be.”
He put his head on my chest, and after a while he said, “This new shit’s strong.” I nodded again and concentrated on breathing. Just that. It took some effort.
Gabriel grinned and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. “You have lipstick on your face. I’m jealous, because I wasn’t the one who put it there.”
“Gracie’s,” I murmured as I rolled over to face him. He drew me into his arms.
My eyelids started to get heavy. Shit. I tried to stay awake. I really….
*****
I awoke with a start sometime later. The skin on the back of my neck prickled. I had no idea why.
It was almost impossible to focus my thoughts, and I stared up at the dark blue ceiling. I shouldn’t be so groggy, that wasn’t what usually happened. It must have meant I’d taken too much. That realization wasn’t alarming like it should be, probably because the drug was still coursing through me.
After a moment, a muffled sound cut through my fog. What the hell was that? I knit my brows, trying to concentrate.
Only when I sat up did I realize what was happening. Gabriel was out in the hall, struggling with some guy in a suit. The stranger had his hand clamped over Gabriel’s mouth and was trying to drag him toward the stairs.
I half-fell out of bed and yelled, “Leave him alone!” Adrenaline drove me forward, and I tried to pull the man off my friend, but he swung around and backhanded me viciously, connecting with my jaw. Pain shot through my skull and my vision blurred as I staggered backwards. For a few moments, I thought I might black out, but somehow I held it together.
When I could focus again, I looked around in a panic and ran back into the bedroom. I grabbed the stained glass lamp, yanking its cord from the wall, then staggered into the hall and smashed it over the stranger’s head. He crumpled to the floor, taking Gabriel with him. Blood seeped through the man’s short, blond hair. For a terrifying moment, I thought I’d killed him, but then he moaned a little.
Another wave of adrenaline surged through me as I struggled to roll the stranger off my friend. The man was barely conscious, but he still grabbed at me. He managed to get a hold of my shirt, and tore the fabric as I wrenched myself from his grasp.
The moment Gabriel was out from under his attacker, he scrambled to his feet and told me, “We have to get out of here.” He tried to run, but he was so unsteady that he dropped to his knees. I helped him up and put my arm around him, and together we rushed down the hall.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m okay. Thank God you woke up, Zachary.”
“Do you know that guy?”
“Kind of.”
“So, who was he?”
“It’s complicated,” he said. I frowned at that and kept moving.
We careened down the creaking staircase and could hear men shouting on the ground floor, even before we reached it. At the foot of the stairs, we came to an abrupt stop and gaped at the scene in the parlor. Puck and two other guys were facing off against a couple big men. All five had guns drawn.
Fear slammed into me at the sight of those weapons. I couldn’t move. It felt like time got stuck for a long moment.
One of the men pointed his gun at Gabriel and me and demanded, “Who the fuck are you?”
I couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. All I could do was stand there, terrified, waiting for time to start ticking forward again. The stairs creaked behind me. Gabriel’s attacker was coming for us. Oh God.
When the man with the gun started toward us, Gabriel grabbed my arm and dragged me out the front door. It and the security gate were wide open. We barreled down the rickety steps as someone shouted after us.
We ran for several blocks, and eventually we ducked into an alcove, gasping for breath. After a few moments, Gabriel stuck his head out and looked around, then told me, “If anyone was following us, I think we lost them.”
I wheezed as I bent over and put my hands on my knees, then erupted into a coughing fit. It was a few moments before I could manage, “What the hell was going on back there?”
“I’m not sure what was happening downstairs. The guy trying to drag me out of there was one of my ex’s associates. I don’t know how he tracked me down at the Haunted House.”
I coughed again before straightening up and saying, “We need to call the police. That guy was trying to abduct you.”
“We can’t. We’ve both been using tonight,” he said. “We’re just as likely to get arrested as he is.”
“So, we’re just going to let him get away with it?”
“The dent you put in his skull was instant karma, as far as I’m concerned.”
“What about the guys with guns?”
“If the cops show up, everyone’s going to start shooting. They’re better off working it out on their own. Now come on, I need to get home.”
I frowned and followed him out of the alcove as I asked, “Why was that man trying to kidnap you?”
He hesitated before admitting, “I assume my ex sent him to bring me back so he could beat the shit out of me.”
“Well, he sounds awesome. Why would he want to beat you up?”
“I took something from him.”
“Jesus, Gabriel. Why did you do that?”
“I had to.”
“What did you take?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He started walking a little faster, and I sighed as I hurried to keep up with him.
“Is it safe to go home? Won’t he look for you there?”
“I never told Simeck where I lived and I think he’d have a hard time tracking it down, since the apartment and all the bills are under my roommate’s name,” he said. “Finding me at Gracie’s had to be a total fluke.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We walked for several more blocks. The streets were nearly deserted. The only people we came across were a few male prostitutes, lined up along a wide boulevard. They must have been pretty hard up for cash to be working at that late hour, since there weren’t exactly a lot of customers around.
A couple of them looked up as we approached, and a stocky guy with auburn hair called, “Gabriel?” He jogged over to us and asked my friend, “What’re you doing out so late?”
“I’m just headed home. Zachary, this is Scottie, my roommate.” We exchanged greetings, and Gabriel turned to me and said, “Why don’t you come back to our apartment? You can spend the night if you want.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I just want to go home.”
He gave me a hug. “You totally saved me tonight. Seriously. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to me if you hadn’t jumped in.”
“You would’ve done the same for me.”
“You’re right.”
After we said goodnight, he and his roommate headed down the sidewalk, and I took off in the opposite direction. As I walked, I tried to make sense of the night’s events. Had the two big guys with guns been there to back up the kidnapper, or was the timing just a coinciden
ce? They hadn’t seemed to recognize Gabriel, so maybe it was the latter.
The one good thing was that Gracie hadn’t been there, so I didn’t have to worry about her safety. Although if she had been home, I was sure none of that shit would have gone down in the first place. She would have kept control of the situation.
As the last of my massive adrenaline rush drained away and the sweat cooled on my skin, I began to shake. I tried to pull up the torn right side of my shirt, but there was nothing to hold it in place, so it fell back to my waist. I rolled down my sleeves, wrapped my arms around myself, and kept walking.
Misery settled on me heavily. I’d been running without shoes, so my feet were sore and cold, and my jaw throbbed and ached where I’d been hit. As if that wasn’t enough, I was also weirdly lightheaded, and it was getting worse with each passing minute.
I should have taken Gabriel up on his offer and gone back to his apartment. I’d wanted to retreat to my own bed, but how the hell did I think I was going to get there? I hadn’t seen a single bus or cab in the last hour.
Calling a taxi to pick me up was an idea, but my phone wasn’t where it should be, and I paused to pat myself down. Had I left it at the Haunted House? I didn’t remember taking it out of my pocket, but then, it wasn’t like I was thinking clearly. In fact, thinking at all was getting harder and harder as the lightheadedness continued to build.
I looked around me. The neighborhood was totally unfamiliar. I read the street signs at an intersection, but the names meant nothing to me. A low blanket of fog was beginning to roll in, which certainly wasn’t unusual for San Francisco. I was used to being out late, too, after years working as a prostitute. So what was with the panic that was starting to build in me?
Maybe it was the lingering effect of the drug in my system, or the byproduct of all the fear that had slammed into me back at the Haunted House, but everything just felt off. In a city of over eight-hundred-thousand people, it was odd to find myself completely alone on the street. It was like one of those post-apocalyptic movies, where the buildings still stood but all the people were just gone.
But come on. If it was three or four a.m., everyone would be in bed. It was stupid to freak myself out.
I swayed as a wave of dizziness rose to meet me. Shit, that wasn’t good. I started walking again, faster this time. I knew the city pretty well. Sooner or later, I’d come to a familiar street or neighborhood. I just needed to keep moving.
That didn’t last long. After a minute, I had to grab a street sign to steady myself. My head spun, and my vision started to narrow. The thought of passing out on the street, alone and totally vulnerable, was terrifying.
I looked up at the sign I was clinging to. Peartree Place…the name was vaguely familiar, so I started down the narrow side street. My head swam, and I blinked at a cluster of shops. There was a Thai restaurant, a laundromat, a TV repair shop, and an Asian grocery store. I’d never been there before, so why did I feel like one of them meant something to me?
Everything swayed around me, and my vision blurred. As I started to lose consciousness, I staggered to the nearest doorway, dropped to my knees, and felt around blindly for a doorbell in a desperate attempt to get some help. A moment later, I fell into a sea of darkness.
Chapter Four
“Hey.”
Someone brushed my hair from my face. The touch was so gentle. I found myself hoping it would happen again. When it did, I sighed softly.
“Can you hear me, Zachary?”
The voice was like the touch, so soothing that I wanted more. I raised my lids, just a little, and nodded. A face hovered above mine, familiar and not at the same time.
After a moment, I realized I was on the ground, and whoever was with me was cradling my head and shoulders. He felt so warm. My eyes slid shut again and I burrowed into his arms.
“I’m going to pick you up and bring you inside. Okay?” I nodded again, then felt myself being lifted.
A door swung shut behind us, and the man shifted me a bit as he turned a lock. I opened my eyes a fraction of an inch as we began to move. Wherever we were was pretty dark. For some reason, there were a lot of TVs. We went through another door, and he started to climb some stairs. I draped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder.
After a minute, he put me down on a sofa. I immediately missed the comfort of his arms around me. When he perched beside me, I reached for him and he took my hand. “Were you mugged, Zachary? Should I call the police?”
When I looked up at him and shook my head, the room spun. I focused on his eyes to try to ground myself. They were bluish-green, like beach glass. I mumbled, “I just passed out. I’ll be okay in a minute.”
He held my gaze, and then he frowned. “Have you been using heroin?”
Oh God, he knew! I tried to scramble off the couch as panic welled up in me. I wasn’t sure who this person was, but he knew me, and he knew I’d been using. Other people might find out. Everyone might find out.
I lurched to my feet and bumped into the coffee table. It was heaped with books, and some of them cascaded across the area rug. The room swayed wildly, and if the man hadn’t grabbed me, I would have fallen. I tried to focus on him through my haze as I asked, “Who are you?”
“My name’s TJ. We met briefly at a party last Christmas Eve.”
When he said that, I vaguely recalled the introduction. The party at Nana Dombruso’s house had been loud and crowded, and I hadn’t stayed long. Right before I left, Jessie had introduced us. We’d said hello and not much else. I said, “I’m surprised you remembered me.”
Somehow, recalling where we’d met didn’t eliminate that nagging familiar-but-not sensation, and I took a closer look at him. He was maybe twenty-eight, with overgrown dark hair. I’d obviously gotten him out of bed, since that hair was sticking up at odd angles, and he was dressed in a white T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. He was only a couple inches taller than me with a lean build, and I wondered how he’d carried me upstairs so effortlessly. How had he even known I was at the door?
He interrupted my thoughts by saying, “Sit back down, okay? I’m afraid you’re going to fall and hurt yourself.”
I dropped onto the couch and mumbled, “I don’t get why I’m so dizzy.”
“Heroin slows your heart rate and lowers your blood pressure. If it’s low to begin with, or if you take too much, this is exactly what happens.”
He said that without judgement, just stating facts, but it made me uncomfortable to be talking so openly about my darkest secret. I blurted, “I have to go. Can I borrow your phone so I can call a cab? I don’t know what I did with mine.”
“It’s four a.m. and you don’t feel well. Just sleep here. Until the drug wears off, it’s a bad idea to try to go anywhere.”
He was right. I didn’t know how I expected to get home when I could barely stand up. I whispered, “Yeah, okay,” and he brought me a blanket and a couple pillows. As he put them on the couch, I said, “Please don’t tell anyone what I’ve been doing. If you were at Nana’s party and are friends with Jessie, we must know a lot of the same people. One of my roommates is a cop, and I live with a couple teenagers and my best friend. This can’t get back to any of them.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks.”
He sat on the edge of the big coffee table and asked, “How long have you been using heroin?”
There was that embarrassing directness again. I felt myself coloring as I mumbled, “Just a few months.”
“And before that?” When I frowned, he said, “I only ask because most people don’t start with heroin.”
After a moment, I admitted, “I think I’ve tried just about everything over the last few years, but I’m totally in control of this. I usually only use on weekends, so it doesn’t interfere with my job. If I was addicted, no way could I go four or five days between doses.”
“It starts out feeling that way, like you’re the one in charge, but you’re playing c
at and mouse with one of the most addictive substances out there. Every single person who started using heroin believed they were in control at first, but that drug will always prove you wrong.” It sounded like maybe he was speaking from experience.
“But I really am. How many people do you know who can use heroin and then walk away from it for days at a time? Tonight, I made a mistake. The stuff was a lot purer than I was used to, so I took too much. Normally, I’m totally fine.”
“Even if you believe you’re a recreational user now, tell me this: how often do you think about it during the week? How much time is spent planning and anticipating your next hit? And how much do you miss it on those off days?”
That struck a little too close to home. My voice rose as I said, “Would you please stop? I just had a shitty night, that’s all. I know what I’m doing, and I don’t need a lecture.”
“I wasn’t lecturing.” He said that softly, then stood up and added, “I know you feel sick and are pretty much a captive audience, so I apologize for my timing. But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try to pass on a little of what I learned the hard way.”
I glanced at him and asked, “What did you use?”
TJ picked up the books from the floor as he told me, “Like you, I tried pretty much everything under the sun. Eventually, I got hooked on meth. I’ve been clean a long time, but I can’t forget what it felt like to be addicted and out of control.” He returned the paperbacks to the coffee table before saying, “If you need anything during the night, don’t hesitate to wake me.”
“Thanks, TJ.”
“Welcome. I hope you get some sleep.” He turned off the light and ducked through the bedroom door, but left it ajar.
I arranged the pillows, curled up on my side, and pulled the soft blanket over my head, leaving a little gap to peek through. There was a large fish tank on the other side of the room, positioned where I would have expected a TV to be. Its filter produced a quiet, steady, trickling sound, which was soothing. I realized after a moment that it was inset into a big cutout in the wall, so it could be seen from both the bedroom and living room. The aquarium was dark, and the room beyond it was dimly lit by a small lamp on a nightstand.
