Chapter 32 Maxx
chapter
thirty-two
maxx
i didn’t think about what lying to Aubrey meant.
I couldn’t.
I hadn’t started my day thinking it would end with my deceit.
That I’d be perilously close to backsliding into my old life, my old world.
I had spent my morning at work and felt good when I had received higher than average tips.
Sure, it wouldn’t cover the cost of my rent, but it was a good start.
I still had the thousand bucks from club scouting sitting in my bank account and planned to scout again next week.
It was a decent job, and I was trying to stay optimistic about it.
If I was able to scout and not actually go to the club, then I didn’t necessarily feel like I was keeping anything from Aubrey. I couldn’t tell her about it, because I knew it would only worry her.
But in the back of my mind, Gash’s other offer was a tantalizing possibility. As was the envelope of pills I still kept hidden in the back of my closet.
I was feeling somewhat upbeat, given my recent bout of pessimism.
And then my brother came for a visit.
“Landon! What are you doing here?” I asked, opening the door to him.
In all the years I had lived in my dinky apartment, Landon had never been by for a visit. And that had been completely intentional.
I had worked really damn hard to keep Landon away from the shit in my life. I never wanted him to see how I lived. But there was no point in keeping up pretenses anymore.
Landon came inside and looked around. “This is where you live?” he asked.
“Yeah, it is. Welcome to Casa de Maxx,” I said wryly. I felt mildly ashamed when I saw the barely disguised look of disgust on his face.
“It’s kind of ghetto,” he observed.
“Yeah, well, the rent is cheap. So, did you come by to criticize my interior decorating skills?” I asked lightly, trying not to get pissed by my brother’s comment.
Landon stopped snooping and sat down on my couch, pulling some brochures out of his backpack. “Well, I’ve been talking to my guidance counselor more about art school. You remember me talking about that with you, right?” he asked with an edge to his voice.
I knew what he was thinking. Did I remember or had I been too high to hear him?
“Yeah, I remember,” I said a touch defensively, sitting down beside him.
He handed me a pile of glossy paper. “Well, these are brochures from three of my top picks. I was wondering if you’d look at them with me.
” He sounded kind of angry as he asked me.
“You know, because I don’t have anyone else to really ask.
None of my friends want to hear about art school, and even though David is less of an asshole, he’s still an asshole. ”
“And I was your choice by default,” I said. Damn this kid and his ability to wound me. It made me want to shake him senseless.
Landon rubbed his forehead in an agitated gesture. “Yeah—” Then he looked at my face. “No, actually,” he admitted grudgingly. “I wanted to look at this stuff with you. To get your opinion. Because even though you’re a lying sack of shit, you’re still my brother,” he mumbled petulantly.
“Wow, you sure know how to sweet-talk a fellow,” I deadpanned.
“Whatever,” Landon said under his breath.
There was a long moment of silence, then I picked up the first brochure and started to skim the information. “So what is it exactly you want my expert opinion on?” I asked.
Landon shrugged. “I don’t know, really. They’re all good schools. I’d like to go visit them over the summer before filling out my applications in the fall. Maybe you could come with me,” he suggested offhandedly, as though it were no big deal.
I shrugged and tried not to smile. “Yeah, sure, that’d be cool,” I said just as neutrally. Landon nodded and pulled out another pile of papers, dropping them in my lap.
“This is information about classes and stuff. It’s a lot and it sort of makes me crazy looking at it all.”
“Well, let me help you out, then,” I offered, starting to thumb through the information.
And then I came to the cost of tuition and almost lost my lunch.
“Shit, Landon, is this how much it fucking costs to go to one of these schools?” I couldn’t help myself from saying.
Landon instantly froze, our period of thawing camaraderie now over.
“I know how much it costs, Maxx. But I’m also working my ass off so I’m eligible for a crapload of financial aid.
You know, so you don’t feel like you have to help me out.
We saw how great that turned out last time,” he spat out hatefully.
I swallowed down my angry retort and tried to remember those super-helpful breathing techniques forced down my throat in rehab.
After a few minutes I was feeling better. “There’s nothing wrong with my wanting to help you out, Lan,” I told him.
“I just don’t want you thinking you have to,” Landon said glumly.
I looked down at the number blazing back at me from the page. Landon had always been my responsibility. I had always contributed toward his welfare. But now I could barely keep my water turned on and food in my stomach.
How in the fuck would I ever be able to keep myself afloat and feel like I was doing what I needed to do for the people I cared about?
“Okay, well, let’s not worry about that right now and just look at these schools,” I said, changing the subject, but the burn of failure raged in my gut.
“Okay, cool,” Landon replied, giving me a small smile.
And I smiled back, even if inside I was screaming.
The club was pounding in the distance as I pulled my car into the field. Marco and I had discovered the old airstrip by chance earlier in the week. It had been a real find. It had served as the regional airport in the sixties but had closed a decade later due to funding cuts.
Gash and company had set up shop in the old hangar. I could see lights flashing from the smashed windows, and the ground vibrated under my feet. There was no fear of being discovered this far out of town. There was nothing around for miles. It was perfect.
Marco saw me before I saw him. “X!” he yelled loud enough to be heard over the thumping music.
Every single person standing in line turned in my direction. I saw the widening of eyes and heard the whispering begin and I couldn’t help but grin. It felt nice to be noticed. I missed the notoriety. The attention.
Marco clapped me on the shoulder and immediately ushered me inside. The hangar was a huge open space. Gash’s crew had set up a bar at the very back and flickering strobes and laser lights hung down from the ceiling. The DJ booth was perched up on a platform in the middle of the room.
“What in the fuck are you doing here, man? I never thought I’d see your ugly mug on this side of the rope again.”
I looked around for the signs of Gash’s crew. He usually set up camp on club nights in some out-of-the-way location, close enough to keep an eye on things but far enough away that he didn’t have to be a part of the festivities. For all of his shady dealings, he didn’t enjoy the actual club.
“I’m here to talk to Gash,” I said, shouting over the music.
Marco frowned. “Oh yeah? What about?” he asked, and I looked at the guy who had been my friend for years in surprise.
“What do you think, dumb-ass?” I snapped, annoyed that he expected me to say it out loud.
I thought Marco would have whooped when he heard I was rejoining the fray. He had been pressuring me long enough to dip my toes back into the scene. But he didn’t seem very happy about my news. He seemed . . . worried.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, man,” he said, pulling me to the side and away from the rest of the crowd.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Polo? You’ve been up my ass for months to come back to the club. Remember your whole you’re the king of sleaze, X, pep talk? What the hell is your problem?”
Marco tugged on his eyebrow ring, something he only did when he was nervous. He looked around and then dropped in close to my face, invading my personal space in a way I didn’t appreciate.
“There’s just been rumblings . . .” he began to say, but then I heard my name being called.
“X!”
I looked over to see Vincent, Gash’s lackey, motioning for me to follow him.
I turned back to Marco. “I’ll catch up with you later, all right?” I said.
Marco shrugged as though he hadn’t been really weird only seconds before. “Whatever. See ya.” And then he bled into the crowd, returning to his spot at the front door.
I followed Vincent to the back of the room and into a tiny office. Gash was inside with a handful of people, smoking a spliff.
“X! Good to see you, come in,” Gash said, his voice tight with a lungful of smoke.
He waved the rest of the people out until I was left with only Gash and Vincent.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back,” Gash said, though I could tell by the smirk on his face that he knew he’d see me again. And he knew exactly what I was here for.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about your offer,” I started to say.
Gash nodded to Vincent, who reached into a leather satchel and pulled out two freezer bags full of pills.
I felt sick taking them from Vincent. They burned my fingers with guilt and shame.
I couldn’t believe I had resorted to this. I had worked so hard to put this behind me, and here I was jumping back in with the sharks.
But I was feeling desperate and I was tired of not being able to provide for myself. I just needed to make enough to get by until I could figure something else out. This would not be a permanent solution.
I was dedicated to my new life. This would just help ensure that I didn’t drown while I was trying to live it.
At least, that’s what I’d managed to convince myself.
“It’s important that you’re here next Saturday with all of that. Be here no later than ten o’clock,” Gash said firmly. I frowned. Gash had never given me such specific instructions before. It was always just sell the shit and give him the money.
“Any particular reason why?” I asked, dropping the drugs into the book bag I had brought inside with me for this very purpose.
“Because I fucking said so, that’s why,” Gash yelled.
What had him so wound up?
“Okay . . .”
Gash smoothed back his graying hair and gave me his trademark smug smile. “You’re going to make us a lot of money, X. It’s good to have you back in the fold.”
I bristled. “I’m not back in the fold, Gash. This is a one-time thing. I just need some cash to help me get by. Times are tough, ya know.”
Gash laughed, a disingenuous sound. “Of course. A one-time thing. No strings attached. I get it.” Wow. He was being uncharacteristically agreeable. I had expected threats of bodily harm at the very least for not wanting to go back to dealing full-time.
“All right, well, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you next Saturday,” I said, backing up toward the door.
“Don’t be any later than ten, X. I’m fucking serious. Otherwise things may happen to you and the people you love that aren’t very nice. You get me?”
There was the Gash I knew and hated.
“Yeah, I get ya,” I responded, hoisting my bag up on my shoulder.
I left Gash’s makeshift office and headed to the front door. Hands reached out trying to grab me. Girls pressed themselves up against me, begging me for the thing I had always been able to give them.
I used to love this. And I still felt the power of it. But it felt disgusting and wrong. I didn’t stop until I was out of the club. I didn’t bother talking to Marco again, either. Not when my shame was heavy on my back.
Just one more time, I repeated to myself the whole way home.
I went home and instead of sleeping, I thought about the drugs in my bag. How much I wanted them. How much I craved them.
Just one more time . . .