Addicted to an Addict

by Honey

  In previous weeks, Mink had only passed all of her so-called random drug screens because Greg was privy to each resident’s clinical schedule. Therefore, he knew at the beginning of every month the exact days Mink would be required to submit a urine sample. And as a member of the staff, he also knew she would only be tested for heroin because she had identified that particular substance as her sole drug of choice. Therefore, it was the only substance the medical staff at the center had ever tested her for. So, all the coke she’d snorted, the E tabs she had popped, and gallons of liquor she’d guzzled down had gone undetected.

  However, once Josiah and the girls arrived, the nurses would test Mink every single day for all substances. Additionally, the cabin she’d share with her family would be searched daily for drugs and alcohol. This was a policy that the center had implemented four and a half years ago after a resident had nearly died of a heart attack while bingeing on crystal meth and vodka that his daughter had smuggled into the facility during a family weekend visit.

  Mink knew Josiah wouldn’t sneak any drugs or alcohol onto the premises for her, so she had prepared her body and mind for a clean and sober weekend with her husband and daughters. She was honestly looking forward to it. But at the moment, she was experiencing a coke craving so powerful that she couldn’t sit still. She had dumped her entire lunch of chicken quesadillas and Spanish rice in the trash can because her appetite for food was nonexistent. All Mink had a taste for was something . . . anything . . . to make her high.

  Norm M. ! The older gentleman’s face instantly popped into her head clear out of left field. He always had a secret supply of some expensive, strong, dark liquor stashed away, and he’d been kind enough to share with her on a few occasions. Norm M. was a cool, white dude in his mid- to late fifties. He was pleasant, polite, and proper. And according to the rehab grapevine, the man was filthy rich. Mink had peeped his designer clothes and shoes, as well as his solid rose gold Omega Seamaster Aqua Terra watch the first day they met. It was Josiah’s dream watch that he’d vowed to own someday. He actually drooled over pictures of the exquisite timepiece whenever he ran across one.

  Norm M.’s overall appearance and demeanor reeked of money and power. His eloquent speech that was seasoned with an accent that reminded Mink of the late President John F. Kennedy’s, also hinted that he had a fortune tucked away someplace. And instead of puffing on cigarettes out on the veranda and other designated smoking areas outside the building, he was often spotted with expensive-looking cigars wedged between his teeth as he read from some thick, hardback book. He was quite the distinguished gentleman in Mink’s eyes, and he intrigued her enough to want to hear his story one day. But right now, she wanted to find him to see if he had any liquor to spare and if he’d be willing to share it with her. He had never asked for any favors in exchange for drinks before, and Mink hoped he’d be as generous today. However, there were no guarantees amongst addicts. They were just as unpredictable as the weather.

  So, just in case Norm M. was feeling frisky this afternoon, Mink dabbed a little bit of perfume behind each ear, applied a soft shade of pink gloss to her lips, and popped a few spearmint Altoids in her mouth. Then, after a final glance in the mirror, she left her room. More than likely, her secret bartender was on the veranda smoking a cigar and making love to a book.

  Chapter Thirty

  “I think he should skip it.” Connor took a sip from the Styrofoam cup in his hand and swallowed. “You and I can go in his place. Everyone will understand. The man just admitted yesterday to the entire city through his publicist that he’s married to a goddamn dopehead. Surely, no one expects him to show up this evening to hand out food and clothes to a bunch of freeloaders the day after that. There’ll be TV reporters and cameras everywhere. He doesn’t need to show his face.”

  Jeremiah looked up briefly from packing files in Josiah’s briefcase to stare at Connor. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever agreed on anything, dude. I’ll tell Gypsie to call the mission and inform Mrs. Jeantine, the director, that the mayor won’t be able to attend the event and that his chief of staff and a senior aide will represent him in his absence. I don’t see a need for Gypsie to explain as long as we’ll be delivering the food items JoJo promised to donate.”

  “There’ll be no need for Gypsie to make an excuse about anything on my behalf because she’s not going to make the phone call,” Josiah announced, entering his brother’s office without knocking. He plopped down in one of the chairs facing Jeremiah’s desk. “I’m going to the mission this evening as scheduled. Keeping my promise, I’ll be handing out whole chickens, hams, and dozens of sweet potato pies; compliments of Myrlie Bishop and the women of Fresh Anointing Pentecostal Church. It’s cold outside, so people need those hundreds of coats we’ve collected.”

  Connor frowned, ran his fingers through his curly red hair, and blew out a gush of air. But he didn’t utter a single syllable in protest.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, JoJo. The local media will rip you a new asshole if you venture out so soon after the press conference. I’m against it, bruh.”

  “That’s too bad, J, because I really thought you, of all people, would have my back.”

  “I do have your back. It’s just that I think it’s too much, too soon. Reporters can be vicious, man. I don’t think I can stand there and watch them shoot for your heart without going off. You may be the mayor of the A, but you’re my big brother. If they come at you sideways, I’ll clap back.”

  “No, you won’t because you’re too smooth and professional to let a bunch of thirsty, kiss-ass, underpaid reporters set you off. Plus, JoJo with the git mo’ can take care of himself. I ain’t about to dip and hide like some little punk because my wife is on drugs. At least she’s in treatment getting the help she needs and not out on the streets blooping.”

  “I just feel you’re moving too fast, JoJo. Why don’t you chill for a few days?”

  “I-I . . . I . . . um . . . agree with Jeremiah, sir,” Connor stammered, adding his unsolicited two cents.

  “Thank you both for your concern. I sincerely appreciate it, but I don’t need you two to protect me. No matter what, the media clowns are going to come hard for me whether I face them tonight or next week. So, I might as well get it over with, don’t you think?”

  Jeremiah couldn’t respond because he knew Josiah was right. There was no need for him to avoid the media because, at some point, he would have to face them. What better time was there than the present? The sooner he answered a few questions from local reporters, the better. Then he could put yet another episode of his fucked-up life as the husband of a dope fiend behind him.

  “Okay, JoJo, I get it. You want to split through the shit head-on today and hope the media will drop the issue after they drill you once.”

  “Correct.” Josiah nodded and smiled.

  “Cool. I’m down with it, but don’t spend a lot of time answering questions. And say as little as possible without revealing too many details. All they need to know is Mink has a problem with dependency, and she’s in treatment. Just confirm what Geisel said yesterday.”

  “That’s my plan, bruh.”

  “But what if someone goes rogue and starts getting pushy?” Connor asked with genuine concern in his voice.

  “Don’t worry about it, dude. I’ll arrange extra security to cover JoJo. You never know. A fight might break out over the last chicken or the fattest ham, and we’ll have to get him out of there in a hurry,” Jeremiah laughed.

  Connor stood up, shaking his head. “I’m not worried about the people who’ll be there for the food. It’s the news reporters. Those are the bastards I want to punch in their faces.”

  “Take off your boxing gloves, champ. The extra security and I will have everything under control.”

  * * *

  Gypsie entered Excellence Unlimited Preparatory Academy and blazed a path straight to the front office. Her heart was racing as she gripped her designer clutch bag with sweaty
palms. Mrs. Scott, the school’s secretary, had called Josiah thirty minutes ago out of concern for Gem. She had been quiet, distant, and even teary-eyed since art appreciation class earlier this morning. Gypsie had a hard time understanding that because the child was very happy, talkative, and full of laughter on the drive to school this morning. She and Treasure had even sung Andra Day’s “Rise Up” loud, in perfect pitch, and with full voices between giggles and lively chatter all the way to school.

  What the hell happened in art appreciation class? That question was on repeat inside Gypsie’s head. The teacher and headmistress had said that Gem had refused to talk when they’d asked her why she was so upset. Gypsie hoped the child would confide in her because, unfortunately, her father wasn’t available to tend to her right now. He didn’t even have a clue that Gem was having a rough time at school because he was in the early stages of an all-day budget meeting at the time of the call. That’s why as soon as Gypsie hung up the phone with Mrs. Scott, she asked Rebecca to cover her desk before she tore out of city hall en route to the school like a ho on a john. Josiah didn’t need the stress of dealing with the situation with all he had going on. So, as the official, trusted caretaker of the Bishop girls in the absence of their parents, Gypsie decided to exercise her limited authority.

  She opened the glass door to the office and walked in. Immediately, she was greeted with a warm smile from a woman standing behind the counter.

  “Good morning and welcome to Excellence Unlimited Preparatory Academy. How may I help you, ma’am?”

  “Hi. I’m Gypsie Robinson, administrative assistant to Mayor Josiah Bishop. I spoke to Mrs. Scott on his behalf about his daughter—”

  “Gem,” the woman said softly, finishing Gypsie’s sentence. “Please follow me, ma’am. She’s with our headmistress, Dr. Bah, in her office.”

  Without a word, Gypsie followed the woman down a short, narrow hallway to a set of double doors. The runaway beat of her heart caused her breathing to become labored.

  After one hard knock, the woman opened the doors and waved her hand, gesturing for Gypsie to enter the office ahead of her. “Dr. Bah, this is Miss Robinson from the mayor’s office. She’s here regarding Gem.”

  “Thank you, Gilda. Please hold all my calls.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied before she left the room, closing the doors behind her.

  “Please have a seat, Miss Robinson.”

  Gypsie had heard Dr. Bah’s request for her to be seated, but she was momentarily paralyzed by the sight of a terribly upset Gem slouching in a chair on the side of the headmistress’s desk. The poor child was sitting with her head hanging down and her arms folded across her chest. Gypsie stood motionless in shock with her heart crumbling to pieces.

  “Gem, darling?” She inched slowly toward the little girl she loved with all her heart. “What’s wrong, sweetie.”

  “Please sit down, Miss Robinson. I’d like to discuss something with you.”

  Gypsie ignored Dr. Bah again and made her way to Gem and kneeled down before her. She took the child by the hand. “My brightest Gem, please talk to me.”

  Slowly, Gem lifted her head and looked at Gypsie with tearful eyes. “I want to go home.”

  “Those are the first words she’s spoken since the art teacher brought her in here. She’s been awfully rude and stubborn. Nothing anyone did or said to comfort her made her explain why she started acting out in class.”

  Gypsie whipped her head around and stabbed the headmistress with her eyes. “Acting out? I was told she appeared sad and started crying all of a sudden. Mrs. Scott didn’t tell me she was cursing, spitting, or fighting with other children in the class. Now, that would’ve been acting out.”

  Dr. Bah let out an audible sigh and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, unmistakably annoyed by Gypsie’s words and attitude. The crooked frown on her face confirmed that she was offended. “It’s a matter of public record now that there’s a situation within the Bishop household, so—”

  “Oh no, you didn’t! How dare you!” Gypsie stood to her full five-foot-five stature. She grabbed Gem’s hand and pulled her to her feet along with her. “This discussion should not take place while the child is present, and especially not with me. It’s unprofessional, insensitive, and downright tacky. I’m going to take Gem and her sister home for the rest of the day. I would appreciate if you could arrange for them to be dismissed.”

  “I assume you’re authorized to sign the girls out of school.”

  “I sure am.”

  “Very well.” Dr. Bah stood from her chair and walked around her desk. She stopped in front of Gypsie and Gem. “Will the girls return to school tomorrow?”

  “Mayor Bishop will decide that. I’m sure he’ll be in touch.”

  On that note, Gypsie did a graceful twirl on her stilettos and guided Gem out of the office. She was 100 degrees emotionally hot, and nothing could cool her off better than a two-punch combination to Dr. Bah’s smug face. She was a pretty woman with smooth brown skin, a short Afro, and dark eyes, but she was ugly on the inside.

  After a brief wait in the school’s busy front office, Treasure was escorted inside by her teacher, Mrs. Lawton, who reported that the younger Bishop daughter was one of her brightest and most well-behaved students.

  “I’m happy to hear that, Mrs. Lawton,” Gypsie responded and took Treasure by the hand.

  The young teacher walked closer to Gypsie with compassion in her bright blue eyes. “Please let the mayor know he has my support,” she whispered. “Anything I can do to help him, Treasure, or her sister during this difficult time would be my pleasure.”

  “I will deliver your message to Mayor Bishop, and I’m sure he’ll appreciate your kindness and concern.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Gypsie was relieved when she pulled in front of Josiah’s house and spotted Jeremiah’s car parked outside. She had sent him a text message right before she left the girls’ school, begging him to meet her at his brother’s house. Unable to go into details, she’d insisted that he not mention anything to Josiah, and he had willingly agreed.

  “Come on, girls. Let’s go inside. Your Uncle J is waiting for us.”

  Gypsie gathered the pizza and wings she’d purchased for lunch and followed Gem and Treasure up the walkway. Just as they reached the front door, it swung open.

  “Uncle J! Uncle J!” Treasure wrapped her arms around Jeremiah’s long legs and squeezed.

  “Hey, precious.” He picked his niece up, pecked her cheek, and lowered her feet back to the ground.

  Gypsie found it strange that Gem didn’t greet her uncle with the same enthusiasm as Treasure had. She simply waved her hand at him with an expressionless face and walked right past him to enter the house.

  “What’s up with her?” Jeremiah asked. “And why are they home from school so early?”

  “That’s why I asked you to meet me here. Gem had a crying spell at school.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. I was hoping you could get her to tell you what happened. She hasn’t said a word to me. Let’s go inside so you can talk to her.”

  “I can’t. I was on my way out. Rebecca called and said that JoJo is acting a hood-rat fool because I’m MIA. I’ve got to get back to city hall, baby girl.”

  “But I need you here, Jeremiah.”

  “I waited here for you over thirty minutes already.”

  “I know, but I had to stop and buy food for the girls because I signed them out of school before lunchtime. Can’t you at least spend five minutes talking to Gem please?”

  Jeremiah checked his watch and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Take care of my nieces.” He kissed Gypsie on the forehead and walked away, leaving her and Treasure standing on the stoop.

  “Come on, little one. It’s time for lunch.” Gypsie entered the house with Treasure acting as her shadow. She went straight to the kitchen, washed her hands, and prepared a lunch plate for the chi
ld. Gem was nowhere in sight. “Go and wash your hands, sweetie,” she said, placing the plate and a cup of apple juice on the table. “When you come back, say your grace and eat your food. I’m going to find your sister.”

  “Okay.”

  Gypsie left the kitchen and went to the den. It was dim and empty, so she headed upstairs to the girls’ bedroom. She was thankful to find Gem lying on her bed on her side with her face turned toward the wall.

  “My brightest Gem, I need you to tell me what happened this morning in art class that made you cry. Please talk to me, sweetie.”

  Like a robot, Gem’s tiny body shot straight up in the bed. She narrowed cold eyes on Gypsie. “Is my mom a crackhead?”

  “W-what . . . What? Nooo! Where on earth did you hear such a terrible thing?”

  “Ryland! She said she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore because my mom is a crackhead that takes bad drugs and gets high all the time! She told all of my friends that people on drugs steal, and they’re dangerous, and they die all alone in raggedy, old houses.” Gem broke out into a pitiful sob. “Why did she say those mean things to me, Miss Gypsie? Why?”

  Gypsie rushed to the bed, sat down, and gathered Gem in her arms as the child wept from her soul. “It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.”

  Gem squirmed out of Gypsie’s arms and leaned back to stare into her eyes. “Is my mom a crackhead? Does she take bad drugs, Miss Gypsie? Is she going to die?”