Tragic Love (16 page)

I’ve told him most of my secrets. We’ve talked about my childhood in Memphis, losing my parents when I was sixteen and my strained relationship with Delilah. He knows about Drake and my troubled relationship, and why I was really at the park the day we met. Again, he passes no judgment. I’m an open book and it feels good to talk to someone about all the shit in my life. Someone who won’t criticize me or my actions, they’ll simply allow me to be me.

I look over to the clock and realize Drake will be home any minute with Mia. I want to be passed out when he gets there, but in order to do that, I need to get high again. My supply is gone and I am completely out of money. Maybe because we’re friends he’ll let it slide this time or maybe I can give him something in exchange for a bag of heroin, but what?

“Hey, I need to get going soon and I’m hoping you could give me one hit for the road.” I give him the most innocent look I can possibly muster, hoping he will cave.

I’ve seen Carter turn many people down if they don’t have the money. He thinks nothing of it when he slams the front door in their face. I just hope he doesn’t do that to me. I need him right now. I need to be numb before I have to face the guilt of my choices in Drake’s broken and sad eyes.

“Sure. I can do that for you.” He gets up from the couch and I stand as well, following him to his stash hidden under a false drawer in the kitchen. Carter pulls out a small bag filled with a substantial amount of white powder. “Okay. This is some pretty intense shit I got in yesterday. It will cost a little more, but it’s totally worth it. I’ll give you a discount because I like you so much and give it to you at cost. How’s one hundred and fifty sound?”

My jaw practically hits the floor. It’s a lot more than I paid in the past and I sure as hell don’t have that kind of money, especially now that Drake and I are on the outs. What the fuck am I going to do? “I don’t have any money,” I admit.

“So you were expecting to just walk out of here with a free bag and I get nothing in return? That’s fucking crazy, Presley. You know I don’t give handouts. Why don’t you come back down when you get your allowance? Then you can spend the rest of the night getting loaded with me.” Carter sets the bag down on the table and stands in front of me with a big smile on his face. He’s not intimidating and I don’t think he will hurt me, but I’ve got to have my fix before I leave. So I do the only thing I can think of to get what I want. The worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I seduce him.

Slowly walking to bridge the gap between Carter and myself, I wrap my arms around his neck. He instantly stills, not moving one inch. Then I stand on my tip toes and touch my lips to his. They are soft, welcoming and warm. Momentarily, Carter kisses me back then pushes my shoulders backwards so he can study my face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Look, I’m not going to let you whore yourself out for drugs, you’re better than that.”

“Is that why you think I kissed you because of the heroin?”

“Then why did you kiss me?” he whispers as the gaze in his eyes burns holes right through me.

“I…I don’t know. I just wanted to. I like you.” I’ve never told a bigger lie in my life. Although I do like Carter’s friendship and the easy access to drugs, that’s all I like about him. I don’t have a physical attraction toward him. When I close my eyes and imagine myself with anyone in that way it’s Drake I see. It will always be Drake. “I just wanted you to know how I’ve been feeling and I’m not the greatest with words.”

Carter simply stares at me, studying me for what feels like hours then suddenly he crashes his lips into mine. We are instantly tangled in each other’s embrace, wrapped in each other’s arms. “I’ve liked you from the moment I met you at the park. I’ve been waiting so long for you to say that,” he speaks into my lips, but I can’t say anything back to him because I know how wrong this is, and by the time this is over, it will only end badly.

I let him kiss me for several minutes, let his lips run up and down my neck and under my jaw. I let his hands pull down the straps of my cami and cup my breast because I am desperate and a horrible person. I pray it doesn’t have to lead to anything more. I don’t know if I can give him more.

I finally muster up something to say so I can get my fix and leave. “I have to go. Drake will be home soon and I need to be there when he gets back with Mia. Are you going to let me give you money…you know, later tonight?”

“Fuck the money. You just gave me something better than money and that’s you. I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve been dying to be close to you.” He grabs my face again, pushing his lips into mine.

I’ve royally screwed this up, and before I can stop him from kissing me again, he continues to declare his feelings between every peck. I don’t feel disgusted, Carter is a highly attractive guy, but I do feel like this will soon come back to bite me like everything else I’ve screwed up in my life.

As he pulls away he says, “You’re so fucking special to me, Presley. I’ve never felt comfortable with anyone. I really don’t have any friends. In this business, you only have acquaintances, not friends.”

He moves away from me and gets everything set up to inject me again. I twitch in anticipation, eager to be numb again. What I’ve just done to Drake will surely end us if he finds out. Regardless of what I’ve said to Drake in the past, I don’t hate him. I love him and I can’t bear the thought of a single day without him.

“Okay, hang on, Presley. This has a little bit more of a kick than the usual stuff.”

Chapter 11

Drake

The three of us pull into my apartment complex just after eight at night. Delilah and Darcie insisted they come with me to convince Presley to get help for her depression. When we make our way up the stairs, I unlock the door then step into our quiet apartment. Presley is probably asleep in our bedroom, what she’s always doing when Mia and I get home.

I walk down the hall to Mia’s room. The only light comes from her flower nightlight plugged into the wall adjacent to her dresser. I lay Mia’s sleeping body in her crib and then kiss her cheek before I shut the door behind me. Now it’s time to confront the demon, the depression holding Presley captive.

My heart is rapidly pounding in my chest, cracking my ribs with every accelerated pump. My nerves are on edge, I have a bad feeling about this. Presley is going to fight this every step of the way, she’s strong and she won’t go down without kicking and screaming first. However, I’ve got a pretty big fight still left in me because I believe what we have together is stronger than any disease. Our love together is the strongest cure for anything that may plague us with its sickness. We are forever.

I open the bedroom door and stare at the bed. Blankets strewn about, dirty clothes spilling over the hamper, but no Presley. She’s not here. Where the hell is she? She’s always here. She hasn’t left the house in weeks. Where the hell would she be now? I pull my cell phone from my pocket. No missed calls or text messages. There’s nothing and my anxiety just goes into overdrive. I turn on my heels and move toward the living where Darcie and Delilah are sitting on the couch, rehearsing what they will say to make Presley go get the help she needs. Their eyes move to me, looking nervous and confused at the same time.

“She’s not here,” I say in astonishment. I hope nothing has happened to her. What if someone broke in and took her? I look to the front door and don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. The door is intact and the apartment is put together just as it was when I left it this morning for work.

“Well, where the hell is she? Could she be next door?” Darcie asks while moving from the couch into the kitchen then walking to the back of the apartment.

“No. Mrs. Fields is out of town visiting family,” I answer, just as confused as everyone else.

“Well, let’s simply call her cell phone and see where she’s at.” Delilah pulls her hands out of her pocket, retrieving her phone.

“You can’t,” Darcie says from the bedroom. She moves up the hall, waving Presley’s cell phone in her hand.

“What the he—” I’m instantly interrupted from the noise coming from the other side of the front door. The sound of loud stomping and moaning is filtering into the apartment. We all look at each other then walk to the door, opening it.

I’m completely taken back when the creepy asswipe who hangs around the pool has Presley’s arm slung over his shoulder as he drags her up the stairs. She is completely out of it, almost as if she’s severely drunk. I’ve never seen her this way. Her feet are stepping, but they aren’t working of their own accord. Her hair is falling from its bun, her clothes are crumpled and mascara is running underneath her eyes. My nerves turn to anger at the sight my girlfriend in this fucker’s arms.

“Presley!” Delilah shouts from behind me. I snap my arm out, not allowing her to move in front of me. I’m on the verge of destroying this guy as soon as I get Presley away from him. I don’t need her getting hurt, too. “What are you doing with her?” Her voice cracks.

His eyes are black as night as he stares serrated daggers in my direction. He doesn’t say anything, just slowly keeps bringing Presley up the stairs and down the long walkway to our apartment. Darcie slips by my side and rushes to help bring Presley up the rest of the stairs. Next thing I know, Delilah is crawling under my arm, escaping by me to join Darcie. They both pull Presley’s arms over their shoulders and drag her the rest of the way into the apartment. She’s moaning and babbling, making no sense.

I focus my attention to the asshole that had my girlfriend wrapped in his arms.
Say goodnight, dickweed, because I’m going to fuck you up.
I start walking purposefully toward the guy with only one thought, destruction of his face. I crack my knuckles and quickly shift my neck back and forth loosening my muscles.

Five feet.

Four feet.

Three feet.

Almost there.

Two feet.

“Hold it.” The creep stops me instantly when he pulls a nine millimeter pistol from the back of his pants. It’s cocked and ready to blow me away if I move another inch. “I have no problem blowing your face off, so I suggest you back the fuck off me and let me leave.”

I start to walk backwards and can’t resist having the last word. “I don’t know what you were doing with my girl, but I can guarantee you’ve just made a horrible mistake, asshole. The next time, you won’t be seeing me; you’ll be feeling me bust your knee caps.” My glare is murderous as I speak to him with my eyes. I don’t know this dude’s story, but if I find out he’s been involved with Presley, in any way, he’s dead.

He merely shrugs me off and walks backwards down the stairs, gun still pointed at my chest. I lean over the side railing and watch him exit the security gate and blend into the blackness of night. Finally, I can release a breath.
Presley,
I shout in my mind then run back to the apartment.

Darcie is pacing back and forth, screaming every profanity in her vocabulary. “Fuck! This makes perfect sense. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

I turn my attention toward my girlfriend who is haphazardly sitting on the couch. Her eyes are blood shot and she can barely keep her eyelids open. She tries to talk, but with every sentence she speaks, she falls asleep halfway through, completely incoherent. She’s just speaking nonsense. Delilah is tapping her in the face, trying to get her to wake up. Presley mumbles gibberish in response before she once again falls back asleep.

“What in the Sam hell is wrong with her? Is she drunk? She’s completely out of it,” Delilah says while peeling loose strands of sweaty hair off Presley’s face. “God, her skin is all clammy. I think we should call an ambulance. She…she doesn’t look well at all.”

“It’s not an ambulance she needs. I think she will snap out of it soon.” Darcie’s legs begin to pace as she looks between Delilah and me. “Did you see it? Because I sure as hell didn’t fucking see it!”

“What?” Delilah and I ask in unison.

“I didn’t see it. Man…I should’ve seen it,” Darcie keeps repeating herself over and over again. “She’s not fucking drunk, I can tell you that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I kneel in front of Presley, snapping my fingers, trying to get her to wake up long enough to tell me what’s wrong with her.

“Do you have any idea who that fucking guy was?” Darcie shouts as she points to the front door. Her feet keep pacing in agitation and her hands are fisting at her sides.

“Will you keep your Goddamn voice down,” I snap, pointing to the back hall where Mia is sound asleep in her bed. “Who was he?”

“That was Carter fucking Brown.” I look at her, completely lost. I’ve never heard of him. If she knows him, how come I don’t? She expels an irritated sigh then says, “Only the biggest fucking heroin suppler in town.”

“What?” I whisper, confounded by her words. Rapid breaths are causing my chest to heave up and down. I should have beaten him until he couldn’t walk. Did he do this to her? So help me God, I will break him in half if he is the reason why she’s incoherent on our couch.

My head starts to spin. My limbs are weakening with every thought. I’m trying to process what Darcie just told me. Heroin? Not my Presley, she wouldn’t! Presley couldn’t be addicted to heroin. She knows exactly how I feel about drugs, especially heroin. My fucking waste for a mother sold me for heroin and now Darcie is telling me she’s just like her. It’s not true! I won’t believe it. I can’t believe it because that would mean she has become the person I despise most.

“I don’t believe it! She’s just really drunk or something,” I deny. “She knows…about my birth mom. Presley would nev—”

“Drunk? Really, Drake? If she were drunk, she’d be reeking of booze.” I stop to inhale, knowing the smell of alcohol is not present in the air, only smoke and men’s cologne. “Think about it. She’s completely out of control, losing weight and she looks like fucking death. She’s a completely different person.” Darcie walks over to Presley’s limp body and nods to Delilah. “Lift up her sleeves.”

“What… why?” Delilah’s voice is weak and trembling with the onslaught of emotions.