Razor's Edge (Afflictions) (24 page)

Twenty-seven

Morgan

Coming out of the bathroom, I squeeze through a horde of my friends crowding the back hall. They slap my back and congratulate me on the band making it. I nod and say a few clipped words as I pass them, not in the mood for celebrating. I’m sick.
I don’t want to be here.
Despair wreaks havoc through all my emotions.
I lost her.
I wasn’t good enough for her. No, maybe I was too good.
Maybe she never wanted good.

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.