Razor's Edge (Afflictions) (26 page)

  Twenty-nine

Shay

A sob erupts from my throat as I watch Morgan run away. My heart cracks open, and the hot knife of his words lacerate through the tender tissue.
He thinks I’m a horrible person.
I’m knocked off the shrine he put me on. Nothing has ever burned me this bad. The things he said about my mothering skills crushed me, but not as much as the way his face looked before he took off. He compared me to someone else. For a moment I wanted to know who. How bad had they scarred him? I hurt him and in turn I only marred myself.

I head toward my car, stumbling with the force of my cries. I trip but catch myself and look down. My keys. They are by the left front tire. Must’ve fallen out when I dumped my satchel. I retrieve them and stare at the skull-and-bones key chain Morgan got for me the day after we made up the first time. We said we’d always forgive each other.

Ha! There’s no going back. No way to make this right. I shouldn’t have done what I did with Gary. I shouldn’t have said those horrible things to Morgan. I shouldn’t have dumped him, but I was too worried to think clearly.

Everything inside me screams for me to chase him, to find him, and plead for his forgiveness. But he did drugs. Instead of giving it some time to cool down so we could talk, he went back to his fucking dependency. My emotions are confused. Half of me wants to see if we can put things back together, and the other half says that we will destroy each other if we do.

I climb into my car and bring up Gary’s number. There is one way to make sure I won’t go groveling back to Morgan.

“Bay?”

I start my engine, wipe the tears from my face and solidify myself against my verdict. “Yes.” I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but Morgan’s no longer in my life and I’m out of options. I have to keep my son safe. “I’ll sleep with you twice a week, as long as you leave Ben alone.”

He laughs. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

I’m socked in the abdomen with Gary’s tone. I force myself not to gag as the idea of being with him ferments like stale beer in my belly. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Come to Sasha’s. We’ll take advantage of that babysitter you have for the brat.” He tries to hide the happiness in his tone, and I don’t know what that’s about. He’s never spared my feelings before.

“I’ll be over in half an hour.” I end the call.

Don’t do it.
I have to. No one can help me now and I deserve to be with him. I’m weak. Why did I ever think I could be anything but Gary’s whore? I sold my soul a long time ago and now I’m going home to the rightful owner of it. It’s where I belong.

Morgan

I chop up a line on Rictor’s glass table so I can hurry up and do the shit before I change my mind. I see Shay’s face in my head. She’s yelling at me. She can go suck a dick. She never wanted anything serious, she never cared, so this image of her telling me not to snort up is just something my brain is conjuring out of grief. As soon as the rail goes up my nose she’ll vanish.

Raucous roars erupt around me.

Rictor and two of his new buddies laugh with five strippers. I missed what was so damn funny, but don’t give a shit as I make nine long rails. I take the straw and hold it to my nose. What will the high be like? Before I talk myself out of it I bend down and suck through my right nostril. Following the line, coke and heroin make their way into my system. And just like that, I’m energized, ready to take on the world. Fuck Shay. She’s not who I thought she was. I never needed a woman in my life before. This time I’ll make damn certain that my hook-ups just stay hook-ups.

Wow. I can think about her without getting all emotional. I’m numb. It feels fucking fantastic!

I pass the straw to Ms. Betty Boop. “Here, try this.”

She takes the straw and bends down. All her cleavage is on mouth-watering display. Her pouty lips would look so fucking good around my cock. She sucks in air through the straw, and in under a second, the line vanishes. She passes it to Jessica Rabbit. Yeah, I’m going to taste her, too. A Betty
Boop-Jessica Rabbit combo. And man, I must be high if I’m referring to them as cartoon characters.

“You
wanna have some fun?”

Betty
Boop, er… Sam, or is it Sabrina? Fuck, I can’t remember her real name. I take her hand and lead her toward one of Rictor’s back bedrooms.

I pause. I’m missing something. What, or who, is it? A vision of black-and-white hair tries to enter my mind, but I push it away. I look over my shoulder at Jessica Rabbit. “You coming too, sweetheart?” I wink. 

She leaves the group, who are snorting up lines on the dining room table. Her full lips pull into a grin. A double dick-sucking is what I’m about to get, and my cock strains against my fly. They will make it all feel better: the girls and the drugs. A perfect way to get a jump start to my tour.

Rictor
laughs. “Welcome back to the old you, Morg.”

Yeah, the old me. Only the old me never used hardcore drugs. Maybe he should have. Then he wouldn’t have let a woman fuck up his world. I grin back at him as I
wrap both bitches in my arms.

             
Thirty

             
Three months later…

Morgan

Ben’s happy face appears on the screen in front of me. Shay told him not to speak to me, but the kid calls me constantly. I’ve been talking to him every day for the past three months of this tour, on Face Time. I know I shouldn’t. I can’t help myself. I have to make sure he’s okay. I worry about the little guy. I might be bummed over his mother, but that’s no reason to cut him off.

Shay really left me for Douche bag. Ben’s told me about how she goes out with him twice a week. Because of her, Ben is exposed to that asshole. I worry about that, too. I shouldn’t have walked away like I did. I should have given her the chance to fully explain what was going on and how she felt. I didn’t.
Left her with that prick
.

I felt so goddamn guilty after the night I got high, I almost called her and begged for her forgiveness. She’s carrying my baby girl. Thanks to Ben, I know. By the way he whispered it, I could tell Shay doesn’t want me to know. Why would she? I’m a druggie.

I have a daughter.

Flutters swarm my gut, telling me it’s time for another hit. I hate feeling this shit.

“…and she’s as big as a watermelon.” Ben holds his hands out in front of him.

I laugh, only for his benefit. The drugs keep my mind off her, but in the morning when they’re out of my system
and before I get more, she haunts my thoughts. I need the drug to keep me from coming undone. Like now. I shot up half an hour ago so I could be normal enough to talk to Ben. I feel so fucking skeevy. “Hey, I got to go, bud. I’ve got to get ready before I head out on stage. You’re gonna watch, right?”

“Like I always do.” He smiles, then it fades to a frown. “Mom won’t watch you. I think she misses you too much. Sometimes I hear her crying in the bathroom. She won’t admit it, but I know she does.”

Shit. Maybe she does care.
She me left for him
. It’s false hope. “Pregnant women cry all the time. I’m sure that’s what it is. Take care of her for me, okay?”

He nods. “I miss you,
Morg.”

My eyes start to burn; I can feel water collecting underneath them, threatening to spill over. Shit, I’m such a pansy. I shouldn’t be feeling anything right now.
I need to up my dosage.
That hit I took earlier wasn’t enough. “I miss you too, bud. Give your momma a kiss for me.”

“I will.” He shuts off his camera and my screen goes blank.

I’m a piece of shit. Nothing’s made me feel any better—the drugs, the women. Nothing. I look around the dressing room. My band’s absent. They went to dinner, and I stayed behind like I always do. I’m never hungry anyway. They don’t question it—just think I hit the bottle hard since Shay and I aren’t together. They know nothing about the speedballs I’ve been shooting up. I inject them in the soles of my feet. And when I can’t do it there, I wear long sleeves. No evidence. That’s the way I want it. They don’t have to know how far I’ve fallen.

This drug gives me the ability to function while I’m on stage. I need it—otherwise I’ll fall apart. I’m not going to be like this forever. Two more shows, one here in
Cincy and our last one in Detroit, then I can say I’m going on a two-week vacay and check into a rehab clinic. Get my shit clean, and be there when my baby is born, whether Shay likes it or not.

My phone goes off. “Yeah.”

“How much do you love your girl?”

I jerk up in my chair. “Who the hell is this?”

His laughter comes through the phone.

A thousand needles prick up my spine, and my hair stands on end.
I know that laugh.

“Do you love her enough to shell out ten grand a month?”

Gary?
“The fuck did you get my number?”

“Check your e-mail then call me back.” The line goes dead.

Shay
. I frantically click over to my inbox. Sure enough, there is an e-mail from [email protected]. I click on it, and all it says is to watch the attachment, then call him back.

I hover the mouse over the link, afraid of what I’ll see if I click. The coke in my system has my nerves dancing. I’m energized, and I can feel rage building up from the pit of my belly. I click.

It’s a video.

I don’t hit play; just stare at the frozen image of Shay, bent over a bed, half naked. I can’t bring myself to click the button. My heart’s pounding away inside my sternum as slick, slimy
frogs flip-flop in my stomach. A chill goes down my spine, and goose bumps burst out across my skin. I don’t know what that fuck head is trying to do. What is his motive here for throwing it in my face? Nothing good.

I turn away from the screen. The sight of Shay naked, pregnant with my daughter, and submitting to that fucker makes me sick. My adrenaline’s kicking full force. Not a good combo. I don’t know whether to hit something or puke.

My hands shake with the urge to crush someone’s skull as I call the motherfucker back.

“That was quick.” He laughs.

I growl.

“Didn’t like the video? Shay had a ton of fun making it.”

“Fucking cocksucker, I’m—”

“Violence will get you nowhere.” His tone goes cold. “Now, for negotiations.”

What the fuck?
“Nego—”

“I want ten grand a month to keep this from going viral.”

I laugh. I can’t help it.
This asshole’s in-fucking-sane.
“What makes you think I’m going to pay that? Newsflash, Dick face. She dumped me for you.”

“Oh, I think you’ll pay. She is the mother of your child. What will your daughter think when she grows up and sees how much of a whore her mother is?”

Blood surges. My vision darkens. Fists clench so hard I almost annihilate the cell in my hand.

Gary laughs. “Yeah, I figured I’d get that reaction out of you. It’s the only reason I haven’t beaten her so bad that she’d miscarry. Your daughter, Morgan. A sure way to have your compliance.”

“If you fucking—”

“If I what? Don’t worry, Shay’s safe for now. But I have about a dozen or so of these tapes. She consented to them. So unless you want her smeared all over the net, you’ll pay me ten grand a month. Am I clear? You’re a big star now. What’s ten grand when it comes to protecting the rep of the mother of your daughter?”

A roar starts low in my throat, but I grind my teeth and school my voice. “If you do that, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, you can try.” He laughs. “And even if you did, I still have the tapes, and my partner will make sure they go viral. Hum…Ben’s nine and in another year or so he’ll be going into middle school. You know how it is when boys hit puberty. I’m sure one of his friends is bound to stumble across this little video. How do you think Ben will react to
that?”

I plow my fist through our dressing room door.

“Fucking cock-sucking son-of-a-bitch motherfucker!”

“That’s quite a vocabulary you have there.”

He’s blackmailing me and I have no choice but to take it. I can’t have Ben or my daughter growing up with this video out there. What in the hell was Shay thinking?

My body vibrates, and I can’t tell if it’s from the speedball I had earlier or the rage running through me now.
I can’t believe she’d agree to make sex tapes with this POS.
She had to know dick face would use this against her.
Unless they were both playing you from the start.

“What the hell happened in here?” Wiley peers through the fist-sized peephole I just put in the door.

“Tick, tick, Morgan,” Gary says. “I’m waiting.”

“I need to think about this.” Cause I do. If they are trying to play—

“Think about what?” Wiley comes through the door.

I hold up my hand.

“Of course,” Gary says. “Two days. If that money isn’t in my hand in two days I’m uploading the shit. Have a nice concert, by the way—love your band.” The line goes dead. I chuck my phone across the room as sounds of sex erupt from my laptop.

“Whoa, dude,” Wiley says as I rush to turn it off.

“You guys sitting around swinging your nuts to—” Bryan stops dead in the doorframe as I’m frantically trying to click off the video, but with every click another video pops up.

Tryst pushes Bryan aside as Shay’s moans echo around our dressing room.

“What the fuck is that shit?” Tryst’s murderous brown eyes lock on mine.

I’m not scared.

My veins feel like they’re about to explode in my arms. I chuck my laptop across the room and it smashes into a mirror hanging on the wall. The glass shatters and falls to the cement floor. My heart is flying out of my chest and it constricts. Blood pounds in my head like it’s getting ready to pop.

I get up in Tryst’s face, so close I could bite his chin off. “Do it, motherfucker!” He’s an ex-marine. He could probably kill me with his pinkie. I don’t care. All the energy that’s coiled down inside me snaps. It races up my arms and explodes. I push Tryst so hard he slams backward into the red brick wall. The sound of his skull hitting cracks out throughout the room. He slumps, landing on the bits of my busted laptop and shattered glass.

I roar.

My heart knocks so hard against my sternum, a sharp pain goes through it. My head is full of helium, floating up to the ceiling but dropping again. I brace myself against the door jam. My breath saws in and out. Sweat beads down my face. My skin flushes with heat. The adrenaline begins to slow.

Wiley, Lina, and Bryan are frozen, jaws hanging open and eyes wide. Then they blur.

It’s fucking hot in here.

I’m coming down off the coke high and entering the heroin half of my speedball. I need to sit down. But I need to be on stage.

Shoot up.
I have to. I can’t go out on stage when I’m about to pass the hell out.

A blurry vision of Wiley steps toward me. “
Morg, man—”

“I need to use the bathroom.” I turn toward the hall.

Tryst groans.

Lina steps in front of me. “We have to be on—”

“I’ll be back before then.” I don’t mean to be rude, like I want another woman mad at me, but shit. I have to do this. It won’t take me that long to shoot up.

#####

After pulling the tourniquet tight, I slap the crease of my elbow, encouraging a vein to appear. The soles of my feet are too annihilated to take the hit there. Long sleeves it’ll have to be. There it is—a big, fat blue one. I can see it through the haze of my exhaustion. I pick up the needle and press it to my vein. There’s a sharp pinch and I pull the plunger back. Blood pools into the needle, mixing with the drug, and then I slam the plunger down. The heroin and coke combo shoots through me, bringing with it euphoria in pulsating, calming waves.

My knees start to buckle, and I catch myself on the sink. The spoon and the empty bag fall to the ground. I make my way to the toilet in the employee bathroom. As soon as my ass hits the seat, my eyes go dark. I see nothing, feel nothing except the sensation of floating. I’m lost in an abyss.

There’s pounding coming from somewhere. It’s not my heart. That beat is slowing.

“Morgan!” Wiley’s voice enters my subconscious. “Hurry up, man! We
gotta be onstage!”

Stage?
Oh, yeah. I laugh. I’m supposed to sing.

I peel open my eyes as the effects of the heroin are blasted away by the new sensations of the cocaine. My body buzzes and I know this won’t last long. The drug dips in and out of lucidity, going from grogginess to
energized over and over again, until the coke works its way out of my system and the heroin takes over completely. Then I’ll crash. But with as much as I’ve taken, this high should last while I’m on stage.

I jump up off the toilet and stash the needle, tourniquet, and spoon in the back of the toilet. I’ll get it later when I’m done with my performance. I roll down my sleeves so my band won’t see the track marks.

“Dude!” Wiley bangs on the bathroom door. “If I have to—”

I fling the door open.

Wiley drops his fist mid-pound. “What the fuck, man? We’re ten minutes late. You hear that audience? They’re getting pissed.”

My body is buzzing. All this energy I have racing through me has me bouncing on the balls of my feet. I pass Wiley.

He grabs my arm. “What’s wrong with you? You tweaking out?”

I rip my arm from his. “Nah, just excited! Let’s get this shit done!” My voice is a little louder then I intend it to be. But fuck, I feel great.

“I don’t think—”

“Then don’t! Let’s rock!” I jump, then dart toward the stage.

Wiley’s behind me as I come up on Tryst’s back. He has a cut on his shaved head. Oh yeah, I threw him into a wall. “Tryst, man! Shit! I’m sorry!”

He slowly turns and looks me up and down. His eyebrows shoot skyward, then pull into a pinch. “No sweat. It was a hard thing to swallow. You good? You look like you’re—”