Atone, page 21
“Oh my God, Shelia.” I sag against the door. “You scared me. I’m a bit jumpy.” I breathe out as I scan the area. The sunset, which would otherwise be gorgeous with its oranges and reds, reminds me of a bleeding sky. Maybe it’s a sign that David is bleeding. I mean, that loud pop pop was not from firecrackers—it could have been gunshots.
“Holy shit.” I’m such a fucking naïve idiot. No wonder Eve and Dolly knew what to do right away. They didn’t even argue, simply got into the SUV with Eve’s baby and left. I rub my temples and dig inside my bag for the keys.
“A couple of men came by looking for you,” she whispers. Her cold, wrinkled hand touches mine.
“What?” I screech as I look around.
“Yes.” She pulls me into her apartment, which is identical to mine but looks like an old lady and her cats live here. The cat litter needs to be changed. I usually try to do it for her once a week. It’s clear I forgot last week because it’s awful. I hate the smell of cat piss.
“Here, I tried to take a picture with my phone. They were pounding on your door. I told them I was going to call the cops and they left.” She hands me her phone, which should have been upgraded ten years ago. My hands shake as I look at the tiny screen. But instead of bikers, they look like my upstairs neighbor’s stupid friends, wet and in board shorts.
“Oh God.” I sink onto her uncomfortable couch. The crocheted throw blanket is slightly scratchy. “Shelia, I think this is Jordan and Sean’s drunk friends.”
She frowns and looks down at the phone. “Are you sure? They had a couple tattoos.” She whispers that last word as she points to one. On her crappy phone, it looks like melanoma rather than a tattoo.
“Trust me, those are Sean’s friends.” I put a hand over my eyes as I lean my head back.
“Can I get you anything, honey? You look pale.”
“Oh, Shelia…” I can’t seem to stop. The tears flow down my cheeks as I lean over and sob.
“Charlize, no man who makes you cry like this is worth it.”
I shake my head. “He is.”
I stutter and keep on crying, “He’s had awful things happen and right this moment, I have no idea if I’ll ever see him again.”
I grab my chest and purge my soul to my sweet next-door neighbor, a little old lady whose late husband worked as a house painter until he got too old. He worshiped her.
“I know you think he wasn’t like your Jacob. And maybe he isn’t, but oh God, what if he’s dead?”
Shelia looks horrified, and I stand. She doesn’t need to hear all my shit. She thought my dickhead neighbor’s friends were bikers.
“I need to go.” I head for the door.
“Charlize, I’ve never seen you like this. Do I need to call your mother?” She stands too, her small frame leaning into the couch.
A tiny bubble of laughter starts to come up. Although I’m sobbing, the thought that poor Shelia wants to call my mother like I’m twelve is so absurd yet perfect for this day. The last thing I need is my mother.
“I’m fine. I think I had too much sun, and I’ll call my mom later anyway. Thank you for watching out for me.”
“Charlize?” Her strict voice makes me turn right as I open the door.
“Don’t do something foolish or something you will regret.” I’m startled by the passion. It’s as though she’s done the same and nothing good came of it.
“You have nothing to worry about. I would never.” I shut the door, hoping that’s true.
DAVID/POET
I drop my bike with the valet at The Dolly and look around.
It’s early. The Disciples’ bouncer nods at me as I pass.
The smell of booze hits me and I stop, close my eyes, and breathe. I love booze. But that’s not my dark mistress. Booze makes me sloppy.
My eyes scan the dark club. It must have opened a little while ago if the one couple at the bar is any indication. I walk in and look where Sergi sat last time, the adrenaline still fucking with my head. I’m covered in blood and yet when I spot the scum of the earth, he smiles and motions for me to come to him. His gold tooth looks pathetic in the dim light. The voices in my head tell me to go forward. A pair of golden eyes make me hesitate for a moment.
Sergi takes a shot from a girl who can’t be more than eighteen. I almost pull out my Glock to put a bullet in his shaved head, but what good does that do me? I need his magic. I might kill him later if I find out he’s fucking with kids.
He spreads his hands. “Welcome, my friend. You look like you have had a day.”
The girl who’s with him stares, her eyes huge. She moves behind him as though I’m the devil.
“It’s all right, Tabatha. He can’t hurt you.” He pats her hands.
“What did you call her?” I hiss. I’m going to kill him. I can feel it as my palm starts to itch.
“Tabatha.” He frowns at me. “That’s her name. Are you all right, my friend?” He stands as I lower myself into the red booth.
“I’m not your friend,” I grunt out. Tabatha. It echoes in my head like that high-pitched ring they use to test your hearing.
I look at them and close my eyes, trying to breathe. My demons have arrived and they are not here to play tonight. They’re lighting a bonfire and I’m starting to burn.
“I want my usual,” I hiss. “As pure as you’ve got.”
Pulling out Lucky’s money, I toss five hundred on the table. He looks down then back up at me.
“I don’t know… you show up and look like this.” He motions with his hand at my blood-splattered clothes and beat-up hands. “Then you want me to give you all my good stuff for—” He doesn’t get anything else out. Tabatha screams, her big eyes dilated with fear and whatever else she’s on.
Somehow my Glock is in his mouth. “I’m going to say this once. Don’t ever think you can tell me no.” I whisper almost seductively, “Now you can give me what I want or you can die. The choice is yours.”
“Whoa… Poet?” I look over at a bouncer running toward me. He’s a Disciple.
“Put the gun down, man. We’re open.” I think his name is Ducky or Mucky, something like that. He stands there looking uncomfortable as his eyes dart from me to Sergi. The girl starts talking in Russian to Sergi.
“It’s all fine. Right, Sergi?” He blinks and tries to smile that stupid smile that dares me to blow his brains all over Edge’s freshly painted walls.
Sergi nods and I pull out my Glock. Slowly he straightens. “Relax, Poet. I was joking. You can have it all.”
I push him back as he stumbles over a chair. His mean eyes narrow, but he straightens and spits out Russian to the girl. She reacts immediately as she goes into her purse and comes out with all the things I need. I pick up three baggies filled with white powder.
“Trust me, you’ll be in heaven soon and talking to God with that stuff.” He sniffs and straightens his stupid Adidas tracksuit.
“Needles?”
He raises a brow, a small smile on his face as he nods to Tabatha. My hand goes to my locket around my neck. She places them on the table as I grab her small wrist and hiss, “How old are you?”
She looks scared, which makes my blood boil. I’m not right in the head. The sound system blasts on and the DJ starts spinning dance music. The lights dim, though no one is even hanging out in this area.
She licks her small lips. “I’m twenty-one, of course,” she says with a strong Russian accent.
“Poet, I had no idea.” Sergi laughs, but when I look over at him, three of his thugs stand behind him. I drop her wrist as I straighten and smile, daring them to make one move. With the mood I’m in, I might kill them for no other reason than the ugly, cliché shit they’re wearing.
“You had no idea what?”
“If you want Tabatha by all means.” He waves her toward me. Her eyes zero in on the blood on my hands.
I grab the needles and heroin. He laughs and leans over the table.
“We got guns too, cowboy.”
One of the Russian bodyguards unzips his tracksuit.
“Jesus Christ, shut up.” I need to leave before I do something that could hurt our chances of taking down Satan’s Seeds. I do not need to be thrown in jail.
“I’m done.”
Tucking my gun in the back of my pants, I don’t even bother to look back. Sweet Neverland and its fairies are calling to me. I take the steps two at a time to the office door. I’ll deal with Sergi later—if there is a later.
Pounding on the door, I wait. It buzzes open to Fish buttoning his pants while on the phone. A dark-haired woman wipes her mouth as she reaches for her bag and some lipstick. Not that I give a shit that Fish gets blown in the office, but I do need space, so the girl needs to go. Especially anyone with dark hair. Christ, I’m starting to act like Reed.
Fish’s conversation brings my eyes into focus on the present.
“Yeah he’s here—just walked in.”
I ignore him and move to the couch so that I can set up my altar.
“Um, he appears to be staying.”
He frowns at me as he wraps a hand around the woman’s arm, bringing her close to him as he nods into the phone.
“She needs to go. This is a solo mission,” I say. Truthfully, I’m not in the mood to share.
With my arm, I sweep all the contents off the coffee table and onto the floor.
Fish and his bullshit tattling on me to my cousin means nothing. In fact, I’m fucking done. I stand up and take off my cut and toss it in front of him.
“Tell Blade I did the right thing. It’s on the floor so he has nothing to worry about.”
“Fuuuck.” Fish stares at my cut, his mouth open.
“I’ll call back, Prez.”
I snicker as I sit on the couch. I want peace and quiet, want the witches to stop talking to me, my baby to stop crying, and the smell of death to be out of my nasal passages forever. My bloody hands drop my supply onto the shiny black wood of the table.
Ripping off my belt, I wrap it around my arm. This is my sacred time. Some call it a ritual; I call it my church.
My veins, which have never failed me, pump up proudly, almost as if they know I’m ready. Some junkies have to move around to find a good vein, or they want to hide their shame. Not me. I own my shit.
Opening the bag of white powder, I’m ready. Six seconds of incredible adrenaline. That’s how addictive it is.
Six seconds for the drug to enter your bloodstream and change the chemicals in your brain forever. I look around for something to cook with.
“I need a spoon, aluminum, something to cook with.” I look up at the waitress or whatever she is. She’s still here, so she might as well be useful.
She licks her lips and nods, then swirls around to the area that holds the coffee machine.
“Here.”
“Another Russian?”
“Da, I’m Russian. I can tie real good. Let me help you.”
I already have the belt around my arm and I’m getting ready to tighten it with my mouth. “Get out. I need to be alone.”
“But—”
“Out,” I bellow and she backs away. I’m sure I look insane as I fill the spoon and start to cook.
This… the preparation to get to the place I’ve longed for all these years.
The smell of it.
The bubbling, the high of watching it turn to my very own mistress of death.
Breathing out, I’m disturbed by Fish who stares at me like he has no idea what to do.
I help him out. “Either do your job, or get the fuck out.”
He nods and pockets his phone. Going over to his chair, he sits and starts to light a pipe filled with whatever poison he needs.
I turn back to my altar and tighten my belt. The needle glistens, the tip like a leaking cock. I smile at the slight burn as the seductive poison enters my vein and lean back, counting down. Five, four, three, two, one. The taste of it in my mouth and the cool heaven in my bloodstream.
Snap. I’m home.
A place where all is quiet and my muscles relax. Like a soft warm cashmere blanket, or even better, Charlie’s warm cunt wrapping me like a warm hot dog bun.
I smile and wonder why I ever was worried. Everything always works out. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes. I won’t sleep, not really, but I see her.
My Beautiful. Her golden eyes are happy as she kisses me with warm lips, and I think to myself, Louis Armstrong was right… what a wonderful world.
DAVID/POET
“David?” Someone is kicking me with what feels like a boot.
“Poet, wake the fuck up.” This time I’m sure it was a kick in my rib cage. I blink my eyes open to see Axel standing over me.
“Christ, Axel, watch the boots.” I sit up looking around.
“I need to piss.” Reaching for a needle left over from last night, I help myself to my breakfast.
“Jesus, Poet.” He watches, smoking his cigarette as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, which is fucking stupid. He’s seen a lot. I don’t even bother with a belt and insert the needle into one of my thicker veins.
I stand up, move to the trash can, and piss in it then sit back on the couch and smile at him.
“Did you just piss in the garbage can?”
“What time is it?” I look around, a little hungry. It’s got to be close to my burrito time. I’ve been having a burrito a day at Taco Bell.
“This is beyond fucked up, man. Even for you… What the hell?” He stares at me, takes a huge inhale, and stubs it out on some of the aluminum that I cook with.
“Watch it,” I sneer, propping my feet on the table.
“Two days, man. You’ve been in here pissing and scaring people for two days. Blade is ready to put a bullet in your head.” He shakes his head in disgust as he answers his phone. It’s been ringing nonstop.
“Prez?” He plops down next to me on the couch. His blue eyes narrowing on me, which I can’t imagine is good.
“Yeah, he’s gone, Blade… I agree. I’ll take care of it.” He ends the call and stretches both arms out on the back of the couch, crossing his booted feet in front.
“So, here’s how this is going to play out, man.” He looks up at the ceiling then over at me.
“You can take that needle and fill it up and go to sleep… or you can get your shit and get the fuck out of here.”
His eyes are dead serious. I wipe my nose, the blood from day’s ago causing a red line on my hand.
“I’ll get my shit.” I stand and look around and the truth that I have nothing, not even my wallet, makes me look over at him as he gazes at his phone frowning.
“Where’s my stuff?”
He ignores me and stands. “I’ll drop you wherever. Shit’s going on in the club. In case you don’t remember, we’re in the middle of a war.”
His phone vibrates causing him to sigh and look down at it.
“Trust me when I speak for all of us brothers. We’re happy that you feel… I don’t know at peace that you avenged your daughter.” He leans forward, both hands on the table.
“I think you’re nothing but a phony. A junkie who can’t man the fuck up and deal with the horrible tragedy you suffered. It makes me sick to see you throw away a future.” He spits out the last part. I grab for my necklace. The usual demons that come when I think about her are silent. It’s Axel and me and the smell of BO and piss.
“Where’s my Glock?”
He laughs. “We had that removed along with all your weapons. They’re property of the Disciples. As soon as you took off your cut…”
I blink at him as the anger that I don’t ever have, especially right after I shoot up, worms into my fuzzy brain. “I took my cut off out of respect,” I yell.
“Respect?” He’s so loud my whole chest vibrates. “You respect nothing. But you’re fucking insane and high if you think for one second I’ll let you bring the club down.” He tosses a burner phone at me. “You’re covered in Lucky’s blood. If a cop raided the place and found you, we’d be fucked.”
His phone rings again and he frowns at the number. Looks at me then the phone. “Goddamn it. Hello?”
He turns and walks over to the security panel. “Listen, Charlie… calm down. He’s alive and—”
“Is that my Beautiful?”
Axel turns to me and wrinkles his nose. I give him the come-hither motion with my hand.
“Fuck, whatever. Maybe she’s what you need.” He hands me the phone.
“Heyyyy.”
“David?” She’s sobbing. I lean back against the couch and close my eyes. I always see her when I close my eyes.
“Shhh, Beautiful. Don’t cry, baby. What’s wrong?”
Silence. Either that or I drifted off for a second because now she’s screaming in my ear.
“I thought you were dead. I had to get Blade’s number from Reed… You never have a real phone, and oh God, what’s happened?”
I laugh. “Nothing’s happened.”
“What does Axel mean you’re taking time for yourself?”
“Axel’s an ass.”
“Are you coming back? To my place. Do you want to see me again?” Her voice trembles and I tell her the truth.
“I want that more than you know. You’re with me always.”
“Then come back. Please, David. I know stuff is happening in the club. I see the news, but please come back to me.”
“Okay, Beautiful. Go enjoy the world, see a flower, and look at its colors, and then write it down for me, okay?”
“What—”
“For fuck’s sake.” Axel rips the phone from my hand and gets in my face again.
“Get your filthy shit-smelling ass out of here.” He grabs my T-shirt as he jerks me up.
I knock his hand away as I reach for one of my needles. “I do what I want, Axel.”
“Great. Do it away from here.” He waits for me to grab my cigarettes and the last of my supplies as I check my pockets.
“Where’s my money?” I hiss.
“No clue. Probably in your veins. You want me to drop you anywhere?” I blink at the sunny day and decide fuck it.
“Can I borrow your sunglasses?”
