39. MAKE A WISH. #2
Mad Dog was sitting at the table in the kitchen with a cigarette tucked between his lips. His blond hair was tied in a bun and his hands were covered in grease from most likely working on the Corvette parked out front.
I side-eyed the half-naked brunette woman standing over the stove cooking something that was definitely not food.
When I slid into the chair across from him, he lifted a brow. I’d never asked him for more than a few grams or a couple of pills. Since I’d only picked up two days ago, his radar had to have been going off.
Pulling out the wad of cash in my pocket that I’d gotten doing a few shifts of yard work on the weekends, I tossed it on the table between us.
He laughed. “Shit, kid. Don’t tell me you’re already out.”
“I’m not here for that,” I told him. “I need something stronger.” Just this once , I told myself silently.
That sobered him up. “No.”
My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Why not?”
“You’re only sixteen.” To emphasize his decision, he opened the magazine on the table and flipped through it—ignoring my presence. “ Take your money and go home.”
“That place isn’t home.” My hands were starting to shake. “ Please .”
He sucked his teeth and looked me over, trying to get a read on me. “Tell me why.”
“You’re not my fucking father,” I bit out. “I have the money. Why can’t that be it?”
His eyes narrowed. “I swear you forget who the fuck you’re talking to.”
The woman stepped around him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t hurt him, baby. Just give him something to take the edge off. That’s all he’s asking.”
He rolled her off him. “Get me a beer from the garage, would ya?”
She took the order easily, and it reminded me of my mother. Get me a beer. A hint of pain shot through my finger, and I looked down to find that I’d scratched the skin so much it’d started to bleed.
Mad Dog waited until we were left alone before he asked, “Is it your head again?”
I nodded stiffly.
“What about that baggy you carry around like the holy grail?” he asked.
“Still saving it for a special occasion?” He took my silence as an answer.
With a snort, he stood and walked out of the kitchen.
He came back a minute later with a silver briefcase.
He dug through the contents—how he knew what is what, I had no clue.
Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out an orange pill bottle and set it in front of me.
“What is it?” I asked, picking it up. The name on the bottle said Smith, Jason .
“Xanax.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he closed the case.
He could have given me something much stronger, but the terrible thing was that I was certain there was a part of him that almost cared about me.
“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that.
Have at it, kid, but don’t overdo it or you’ll end up in the bad place. ”
“The bad place?”
“Yeah, the one that’s worse than this one.”
I couldn’t imagine a place worse than this, but I nodded in understanding, anyway.
I parted to the bathroom and passed by one of Mad Dog’s minions who told me to crush it and snort it to make it work faster, so I did.
It hit me faster than I anticipated, and I felt the world lift off my shoulders as I trudged into the living room and laid out across the dirty couch.
I couldn’t tell if anyone was talking to me, I didn’t care.
Even if I knew I shouldn’t trust a man like Mad Dog, he was the only kind of man I knew how to handle.
Time blurred, and the days grew together.
I’d felt light for the first time in my entire life so when someone offered me something else to take, I did.
I was free.
Free and falling away from everything that ever ruined me.
By the time I’d finally made my way back to the house with a dozen screaming children, I didn’t even know what day it was or how many days I’d been gone. Theresa said nothing when I entered the house and went upstairs to my room.
I fell face down onto my bed, silently begging my mind not to come back to me quite yet. I didn’t know how much time passed before my bedroom door busted open and I was being rolled over and slapped across the face.
“Jesus, fuck!” I yelled, reaching up to touch my burning cheek. I blinked my eyes into focus and found a very angry-looking Abigail.
Without a word, she turned and walked out of the room. Gavin, one of the boys I shared a room with, entered after her, whistling under his breath. “She’s been hulking out ever since you left.”
I sat up, rubbing my face. “She’s overreacting.”
“I was worried about you too,” he admitted, his big eyes looking innocent in his confession. “You make us feel safe.”
Well, shit. So much for keeping my brain turned off after that. I leaned over and roughed up his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re staying, right?” he asked. “I mean, you’re not going to leave like that again, are you?”
I didn’t know the answer to that since I didn’t trust myself lately. He was young, and I knew that telling him what he wanted to hear was better than explaining the truth. “Yeah, I’m staying.”
Abigail gave me the silent treatment for a week. Apologizing profusely did nothing to appease her. The most reaction I’d gotten out of her was a laugh when I stubbed my toe and got hit in the side of the head with the remote because kids couldn’t aim for shit.
I couldn’t give her an explanation that would make sense to her, so I stuck to the steady apologies.
Out of desperation, I could only think of one thing.
Carrying all my remaining hope, I knocked on her bedroom door; the one she shared with one other girl who was our age and currently going through a goth stage.
“Come in,” Abigail called out.
I inched the door open enough to peek my head in. When she saw it was me, she huffed and turned around. “What do you want?”
It was the first sentence she’d directed at me so I took it as a good sign. “I’ll let you cut my hair,” I offered.
Her shoulders tensed and for a moment I thought she’d say no, but then she stood. “Fine.” She grabbed the door and opened it wider before bumping her shoulder into mine. I tried to hide my smile as I followed her.
That feeling left rather quickly when we both realized she had no idea what she was doing. It was so bad we both decided it was best to buzz it.
“You look ridiculous,” she said in between her fits of laughter as I shook the hair out of my shirt.
“I’m glad this is funny to you,” I muttered.
She wiped at the tears under her eyes and tried to steel herself with a serious expression. “Ok, it’s not that bad. It’s already growing on me as we speak.”
I gave her a look. “You maimed me, Abs.” She laughed behind her hands and I found myself smiling.
“Serves you right for leaving like that,” she told me. “I was beginning to think the worst.”
I ran a hand over my prickly hair. “I really am sorry about that.”
She stared at me for a moment and then more tears filled her eyes. “I know,” she said softly before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around me in a way that made it impossible for me to hug her back. “I’m sorry, too.”
My eyes caught onto my reflection in the mirror and I hated who I saw. I was a fool to believe that the first time was also the last. I’d gone back to see Mad Dog three weeks later. Abigail never found out; I made sure of that.