CHAPTER 56
“Do you have to go?” I looked up at Grey, hopefully. Damn, he was gorgeous. It was impossible not to feel good, at the moment, with the liquid heroin dancing deep within my blood stream. I couldn’t help but feel content.
He chuckled at me, rubbing remnants from the cocaine he’d just done across his gums. “Sorry, sugar. We have to play tonight, and I haven’t practiced in…” he flexed his stiff fingers, “way too long.”
I moaned. We both had to work that night. The Aurora was re-opening after the Christmas break with its annual New Year’s Eve party. Apparently it was a huge event, bringing in crowds of people every year. Grey’s band was slated to play and I was going to be stationed in the bar. Walter had trained me to work there himself, as quickly and abruptly as he did everything else—but I actually liked it. It was easier to bartend than to try and squeeze through the drunken throng, carrying a tray and trying not to get stepped on. It was harried and chaotic behind the bar, remembering recipes and shooter mixes and trying to keep up with the orders being screamed at me, but I always liked a challenge.
The biggest challenge yet was going to be getting out of bed. I didn’t want to leave the room; I didn’t really want to face the world, but Grey insisted it would be good for me to get up and out of the house. I think he was worried. Because of the heroin. We hadn’t just slipped from the precipice of control, we’d jumped headfirst off of it, and now we had to try and regain some measure of the life we’d left behind on the cliff.
I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t really want to. I could’ve spent the rest of my life with Grey in our room, his arms wrapped around me, drugs in our systems, staring out the big picture window at the twinkling stars, the bright face of the moon peeking out over soft silver clouds. Like we’d done on so many nights. Happy. Together.
He smirked at the play of sadness on my face as I watched him get ready to go. How rapidly this man had become my whole entire life. Even an afternoon without him was like total agony. If I could’ve felt sad at that moment, I would’ve.
“It’s only for the afternoon, Mackenzie. I’ll see you tonight, at the club.” He chided.
“I know you will. But I miss you already.” I pouted. “I love you, you know.”
Grey laughed at my dramatics. “I love you, too.” It was easy for him to say now, but I never tired of hearing it. I gave him a glorious smile as he bent to kiss me goodbye, taking advantage of his nearness and grasping his hands to pull him closer yet.
“Will you play my song tonight?” I wondered in his ear.
“Hmmm…maybe. It’s not exactly to the tune of “Auld Lang Synge” though, is it?”
I giggled. “I guess not. I just want everyone to know.”
“Know what?” His blue eyes shone at me.
“That I’m yours.”
“Mackenzie,” he smirked, “that’s never been a question.”
And though he left me then, he left me on a good note. My lips were still tingling from his kisses as I fell back onto our bed with a sigh, dreading the long hours until we would be together again. I hated when Grey was gone, I hated being alone.
I sat on our bed, tracing a finger down the red scabby lines that crossed my arm, lines I’d somehow managed to hide from him. I knew I shouldn’t push off; I knew I had to be sober enough to concentrate on work in only a few hours. I just couldn’t handle the quiet. When the heroin began to fade, when there was no one else around, the thoughts began to seep in. Thoughts of sorrow and despair. Of utter hopelessness.
Thoughts I couldn’t handle.
I cooked myself up a batch and shot it quickly. I was a pro by now; the needle didn’t bother me at all. I still let Grey do it for me most of the time, but only because he liked to do it for me. He wanted to be the one to give me pleasure, of any kind.
I was still lying back against the bed, slack and motionless, when my cell phone started to ring. I sighed and rolled over to answer it.
“Mac! Where the hell are you?” Charlie giggled over the phone.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to come over, remember? To get ready for tonight.”
“Oh, yeah. Shit.” I sat up .
“Grab your stuff and get over here.”
“I just woke up.” I lied. “I haven’t showered or anything.”
“Do it over here. I’ve got your uniform for tonight. It’s sexyyyy.”
“Is it?” I bit my lip. I didn’t want to face reality, not yet.
“Mac!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be right over.”
“Hurry up!” She was laughing again as she hung up the phone. I groaned and flipped my cell shut, forcing myself off the bed, stumbling around my room and gathering some things—my heels, my bra, some undies, some jewellery. I shoved it all into my purse and then threw on some jeans, a t-shirt, my skate shoes and my old winter jacket. I didn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Grabbing my car keys from the counter, I headed out of the house for the first time in a week.
I was totally unprepared for the cold. Somehow I’d forgotten about winter. It hit me with all its force, the brunt of the icy wind shuddering down my back and stiffening my muscles. I cringed my head down into the collar of my jacket and headed blindly into the snow, climbing into my frozen car for the first time since…since Christmas. I tried not to think about that, shivering as I turned the key. To my utter amazement, the car chugged to life. I smiled at my good fortune and pulled onto the icy street, the engine whining in protest.
The vents were still blowing cold when I got to Charlie’s house. Heedlessly, I raced up her rickety old stairs, grown more treacherous with winter, covered in snow, in ice.
Ice I skidded over as I ran up the treads.
My heart stopped for one terrible minute. I gasped in horror as my feet slipped out from under me, my wild, flailing hands gripping the banister just in time. My knees slammed down on the stairs, and I fell against them, breathless, my chest heaving. My pulse hammering wildly in my ears.
Maybe it was the sudden adrenaline. The shock of the fall, scaring me. My eyes filled with hot tears, my breath escaped in a gasping sob, harsh in the quiet cold.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I was okay. I was okay. I didn’t fall. I wasn’t hurt.
I had no reason to cry.
It felt like if I started, I might never stop.
Somehow, I resisted. Blinking, gathering myself, my steps weak as I trembled back up the stairs, shaken, heading into the house without even bothering to knock .
Charlie and Courtney were sitting at the counter. Their heads turned in surprise as I entered, letting a draft of cold, frozen air in with me.
“Mac.” Charlie frowned in concern, watching as I took my shoes off. “You okay?”
“You look awful, dude.” Courtney agreed with surprise.
“I just woke up.” I choked out, taking off my coat, shuddering from the cold. “I haven’t had a chance to do anything with myself yet.”
“Right…” Charlie’s eyes narrowed skeptically, the smile falling from her face. “Go shower then; we don’t have much time.”
They were oddly silent, watching me walk by. I didn’t like their scrutiny. I hurried to the bathroom and shut the door, avoiding the bathroom mirror—a natural instinct now, something I automatically shied away from. My reflection was just another grim reminder of what I’d let myself become.
I stepped into the shower, soaping up, washing my hair, letting the hot spray sink into my skin. Charlie’s razor was balancing haphazardly on the ledge, and without thinking, I picked it up. As I gripped the handle, I remembered the sweet pain that came when I cut myself. The relief that came with actually feeling something again. Slowly, I dragged the razor sideways across my arm, shutting my eyes and shuddering as the blade ripped through my skin. Mmmm…the blood ran down my hand, and I smiled with delight.
“Mac, let’s go! We don’t have a lot of time.” Charlie called, knocking on the door. Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Not with the way you look, anyway.”
I shut the water off immediately.
Charlie sat me down in a chair in the kitchen when I was ready, dragging her seat up in front so she could work on my face. Courtney sat on a stool at the island, snorting cocaine. Black Eyed Peas was blaring out of the stereo. I noticed all of this out of my periphery. It held no interest to me anymore. I just sat, glum and despondent.
“So, Mac.” Charlie sighed. “Tell me not to be worried about you.” Her blue eyes held mine locked in her gaze, and the concern she felt was evident. She motioned her head to the cuts on my arm, some older and scabby, one obviously freshly done. It was still bleeding faintly. “What’s going on with you, huh?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah. I bet. You don’t look fine.”
“It’s nothing. I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately.” I lied.
She made a noise at that, a scoff of disbelief. “You can talk to me, you know.”
“I know,” I replied. I just wasn’t going to .
Charlie shook her head in obvious frustration, but she didn’t press me. We sat in silence. It felt nice actually—the coolness of her fingers as she applied my makeup, the deftness of her hands as she worked with my hair. It reminded me of old times. When I’d cared about my appearance.
“There. All done.” She proclaimed finally. “Let’s go get dressed.”
I nodded woodenly. She handed out our uniforms for the night. They were actually kind of cool, made to resemble a man’s tuxedo, with short dark skirts and white sleeveless blouses ruffled down the front. A cute little bow tie went around the neck.
Charlie and Courtney giggled as they got ready, excited for the night. I went through the motions of having fun, but I wasn’t there in spirit. I needed to get high, but I knew I couldn’t. Not when I had to work.
“We look hot!” Charlie exclaimed with her usual exuberance. She and Courtney were standing in front of the floor-length mirror. “Mac, aren’t you going to look?”
I bit my lip, hesitant. I wanted so badly to enjoy what they were enjoying, to laugh with them, to be light-hearted. I stood awkwardly beside Charlie, who grasped me around the waist, and then looked into the mirror.
I didn’t look as bad as I thought I might. Charlie was truly the worker of miracles. Where before my cheeks had been sallow, they now held the soft bloom of pink blush. My eyes were too big, overwhelming my skinny face, but they were lined with dark and silver, metallic and smoky. My lips were as deep red as Courtney’s always were. My hair up in a ponytail, curly and voluminous—but it had lost its shine.
Maybe I looked okay, but I still barely recognized myself. I gazed down at my arms. “What about these?” I choked out. Neither of the other girls had deep red marks and cuts on their arms. For some reason, this made me want to cry again.
“Don’t worry about that, Mac.” Charlie soothed. “I’ve got just the thing.” She rummaged around in her room for a moment, producing a pair of white cuff bracelets that seemed to be made for the occasion. She put the bracelets around my forearms. They managed to hide the majority of the marks on my arms.
When she was done, she squeezed my hands and looked deep into my eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Mac.” She promised me with a hopeful smile. “Just relax.”
I nodded dumbly. Courtney got out some more cocaine and made some rails for us. I took mine without feeling, like I was a robot on automatic pilot or something.
The drugs helped. They gave me some energy, some gusto. They made me think maybe Charlie was right. Maybe everything would be okay.
A slight smile graced my lips. And then it was gone.