Surreal Ecstasy (11 page)

After the old lady passed through
the door and was gone, I went inside the building as well, closing the door
softly behind me. I didn't look back to notice if the two passing women were
still looking at me or perhaps trying to follow me in.

Always leave 'em wanting more.

I opened my front door, went
through, and locked it behind me, secretly hoping I'd be getting a knock on my
door from one of my new admirers who was so taken by me that she'd find a way
in the building. Of course, they might have to stand by the door waiting for
hours until another tenant arrived or left. That was fine. I wouldn't mind if
they finally tracked me down hours or even days from now. The important thing
is that they were
that
dedicated to me. Good for them. It's nice to not
only have a dream but be dedicated to it. Maybe if they stalked me enough, I'd
go out with them and screw both their brains out at once
, just to prove I was man enough
to handle it all. I wouldn't have to worry about Morgan forgiving me because
first of all, she would never know. Secondly, it wouldn't really be cheating
because it would be a charity lay, and that's a totally different category. 

I didn't want a relationship with
any of my admirers. I just wanted them to keep chasing me, and you gotta give a
little to get a little, right?

I carefully placed my car keys on
top of the microwave in the kitchen and heated up the frozen breakfast
according to the package directions. While it cooked, I removed
a so
da from the fridge. It was
too early for a beer, even for me. I set up everything on my living room glass
coffee table neatly.

The table took me to a
recollection.

Morgan had wanted to try the E.

I had smiled then. I smiled now.

She'd needed no further coaching.
She'd taken all the pills I'd left for her, and she learned how to prepare some
coke for me on this very table. I loved sharing that part of my life with her.
She was a natural with it.

Although it was true that Morgan
deserved to pay dearly, we were still together. I loved her, and she loved me.
I'm nice enough to let bygones be bygones, as long as she really heeded me from
now on.

Yes. I would forgive her. But
first, I needed to beat fear into her and show her that I was in charge. She
needed a man like me, someone to instruct her how to live her life. She was
lucky that I loved her so much.

I sat on my couch and watched the
recap of last night's game on the morning news, digging into my eggs, sausage,
and soda. I smiled at the TV, my mind whirling and creating a Grade-A plan.

Yes.
I'd show her. And I'd
show her how I can make
anything
happen in her life. 

It was time for Morgan's first
lesson.

I leaned back and reached down my
slacks pocket for my phone, going through the list of contacts. I found the
number I needed and called it.

When he answered the phone, I said,
"Hey. It's me."

A man of my greatness needed no
introduction.

Fortunately for him, he knew. "Yes,
Adim?"

I liked that, answering the phone
ready to serve. "Call her boss. Do you have the number?"

"Let me see… Yes, I do."

"Good. Call her and tell her
Morgan's on drugs. You can elaborate if you want. The main thing is that you
convince her boss to call her immediately and demand a drug test. Then hang up
before she can ask any questions."

There was a pause.

"Hello? Did you hear me?"
I asked. I was getting pissed off again, could feel the heat rising above my
collar.

I heard him sigh. "Okay, yeah,
sure, Adim."

"Are you being sarcastic with
me? I
am
paying you, you know."

"And I don't care anymore.
This doesn't feel right."

"I didn't ask you to fucking
feel
,
did I, you buttfuck?"

A louder sigh this time. This moron
had no brain or balls at all. It was a good thing I'd recently recruited
someone else. I didn't entirely trust this jerk, but I fervently trusted that
his microbrain could handle one fucking phone call. I gave him some more
instructions and hung up, shaking my head to myself. It was so difficult to
keep people in line lately.

I shook my head and got out some
luscious white powder to align in sexy, perfect lines on my glass table next to
my plate. I remembered how much Morgan had loved cutting up this shit, and I
smiled at the memory. I did the lines quickly and lay back on my couch, closing
my eyes. I had to get my hands on some more ecstasy, and find some bitch to
enjoy it with—just while Morgan was still brainwashed. After I get her back, I'll
be good.

For the most part.

I looked at the picture of Morgan
and me that still hung in a frame in the hallway, remembering how, whenever I
had a hot chick at my place, I'd say that Morgan was my cousin who was
currently living in a halfway house, trying to get her act together. I laughed
and allowed myself to reminisce with these delicious memories several minutes
longer.

Seriously, everything that I did, I
did to protect her, did to keep everyone else from finding out about her.

People just shouldn't trust the God
Generation—angels, demons, gods,
or
human helpers.

Except for me, of course. I was the
only trustworthy demon in this universe.

Chapter 8

"Morgan? Are you there?"

Anny's words echoed through my cell
phone as I stared off into space, not with the purpose of helping anybody
assemble or organize their mind room, but rather to recover from shock.

"Morgan? Hello?"

"What? A drug test?" I
managed to ask, coming back to reality. "Anny, that's not—I'm not—I don't
think that's a good idea." My thoughts reverted to the ecstasy that I'd
taken not one week ago. How long did ecstasy stay in your system? These are
things they don't teach you at the Little Miss Drug Addict's Finishing School.

"Are you refusing to take the
test, Morgan? I've got to say, this doesn't look good."

"No, Anny. You don't
understand. It's hard to explain." I pressed my hand to my temple and
tried to think of something fast that she'd believe.

"Morgan, will you or will you
not take a drug test for me?" she demanded, sounding a lot like my mother.
"All I need is a yes or no answer."

I briefly considered taking the
test and throwing caution to the wind. Maybe I'd show up clean.

But then the devil's advocate part
of my brain took over and thought about what would happen if I did show that I
was positive for ecstasy. I would be fired, naturally, added to the fact that
it would be recorded publicly that I'd had illegal drugs in my system. Then,
every person who wanted to hire me from this day forth would know that. It
would follow me all the way to retirement.

Ugh! Can't I ever have a day off
from crap like this?

"Morgan! I need an answer
RIGHT NOW," Anny demanded again, sounding bitchier than I ever thought
possible.

"I—no," I blurted out
before I could think.

There was a brief silence on the
line. Right when I was about to say something to make sure she was still there,
she declared coldly, "Then you've answered all my questions for me. Stop
by today to clear out your locker and to get your final check."

"I'll ask Dess to do all that,
Anny," I croaked out, my voice quivering. God, if I cried while I was on
the phone with her, I'd never forgive myself.

"Fine. Have it your way. I'll
give Dess your belongings and your check."

"She can clear out my locker
too," I said quickly. The thought of my now ex-boss going touching my
perfume and boxes of tampons made me feel uneasy. What else did I have in
there? Stick-figure drawings of a fat, cranky lady with a bad dye job getting
her head stuck in the oven? I couldn't remember.

"Suit yourself. Goodbye."
Click.

Wow. What a warm, loving
individual.

"What the hell?" Dess
asked, emerging from the bathroom. We were at the adorable, cozy, 2-bedroom
1-bath house she rented in Lynnwood. As a result of the oddest sequence of
reasoning, Dess had set up her little desk and chair in the living room, placed
behind the couch to create a truly chaotic living room, yet her spare bedroom
had dozens of unopened moving boxes, forming a rather complex labyrinth.

I loved her house, though. It made
me wonder why I never thought of renting a house instead of suffering at the
hands of an apartment building with nosy neighbors who called 911 when they
heard you scream, sufficiently ruining your chances of bleeding to death.

It was Friday, almost a week after
my wonderful wrist-cutting incident. Earlier this morning, Dr. Hearse came by
to tell me that I was required to see him once a week at his clinic in
Lynnwood, not too far from where I lived. I was a little disappointed that he
got to my hospital room before Dess did. I would have loved to watch him squirm
and get flustered, staring at Dess' legs or boobs as he tried to remember
baseball statistics.

Dess had arrived in my room about
15 minutes or so after Dr. Hearse had left. She'd taken the day off to bring me
home and, even though I didn't ask her, she'd brought over a set of clothes for
me to wear home and, although they were a little different than the sporty
clothes I usually wore, I had taken them gratefully.

I had also begun to discuss with
Dess everything I'd been thinking about ever since she dropped this God
Generation crap on me. But just as I had brought up the subject, a nurse had
come in to check my vitals one last time, so I had to zip my lip. Dess and I
had exchanged knowing looks when we saw that Erica wouldn't be there. We'd
pretty much expected as much. The new nurse, Maria, didn't seem to know or care
about Dess' sexuality.

Focusing back on the present in
Dess' kitchen, I rubbed my temples and sighed. "That was Anny. I just got
fired."

"That's what I thought I
heard. What the hell? I don't understand. Where'd this come from?"

I walked through her kitchen and
sat down on Dess' L-shaped sofa in the living room, lying back a little. "This
is probably one of the worst days of my life."

We didn't mention Adim at all
during our 20-minute ride in Dess' car. We had taken advantage of our
uninterrupted time by having a more sane conversation about the God Generation,
one that we continued now in her living room. I told her I would definitely
help her organize her mind room once I completely understood how the hell to do
it. She didn't give me details yet about the god-life dreams she had, but she
did give me a general idea about them. I knew a little bit about world history
due to my love of art history, but the piddly knowledge I did have was pretty
limited. I made a mental note to borrow or buy some books on the subject, or at
the very least do some internet research so I could help her better.

She said she knew someone who had
some limited knowledge about the subject, and she told me about something
called the Unveiling. This was when a person discovered which particular god
they used to be. I was amazed to learn that there were more ex-gods running
around everywhere. Did I know any of them? Did they have powers? There was so
much we both didn't understand, but we would have to be patient for now. When I
was feeling better emotionally and thought I had a grip on the subject, I'd
help her organize her mind room. I had my doubts at first, but as I fell asleep
last night, I realized that organizing her thoughts could definitely help her
Unveil. All her god dreams and memories were there in her mind somewhere, in
files and on bookshelves, and I just had to help her find them.

Dess looked at me pensively while
she bit her lip. She sat down slowly on a worn, comfy-looking tan ottoman,
perched at its edge like a cat. "Maybe you'd like to talk about our run-in
with your ex first?" she asked quietly. 

I sighed, deciding Adim was the
easier—if not less stressful—of the two topics for now. "I'm so sorry you
had to go through that, ruffle-man," I told her. "I'm just as
confused as you are. I mean, why was he even there?"

"I was kinda under the
impression that you two had already broken up."

"That's the thing! We are. We
have been." I sighed again and shook my head. "I have seen him react
to our breakups in many ways, but I've never seen him so incredibly delusional
before. I'm actually getting a little scared. He might… I don't know, have a
mental breakdown and be completely psychotic."

"What's Mr. Dreamboat's name?"
Dess asked.

"Adim. Adim Garritty."

"He's the rudest son of a
bitch I've ever met," she said without hesitation.

"I know. And you know what's
really weird about it? He used to only be like that around
me
. He doesn't
normally act out in public like this."

"You do know a couple of
people who were there called the police, right? After he broke that car window?"

I sighed and nodded. I hadn't
really been paying attention, but I remember hearing the loud crash, followed
by a car alarm. It didn't surprise me that Adim had caused it all.

I sat up and looked at Dess. I felt
bad that she had to be verbally abused by this psycho when all she did was
stand up for me, and she didn't even know the real story behind my relationship
with him. I realized that it was impossible for Dess to truly comprehend the
intensity of today's encounter without knowing everything.

So I told her. I told her
everything I could think of, starting from our first date at the bowling alley
to every possible incident I could remember, occasionally rattling off in
another direction on a semi-related topic. She remained completely silent and
sat there listening, her ears and mind open.