Her breasts were phenomenal. Plastic, probably, but still. Besides, pretty much all about her was fake, from her platinum blonde hair and her pink-and-red lacquered fingernails, down to her eyelashes. (Nobody could possibly have eyelashes that long. It just wasn’t natural.) She was tacky and vulgar, but Lind didn’t care. Fake boobs or not, she was a tigress in bed, and she was his for the night.
He didn’t remember her name, but he didn’t much care about that either. He rode her like there was no tomorrow, and he let her ride him, too. Her curves were soft, and her body was toned in all the right places. She came with a loud, unabashed cry. Lind came, too, but it was more of an unbidden physical reaction than the result of any real pleasure. It was a reflex, nothing more; he didn’t particularly enjoy it.
When all was said and done, he sent her away with a few bills and a pat on her butt. He didn’t even bother to get out of bed. Once she was gone, he lay there and stared at the cracked ceiling. Idly, he thought he should probably get someone to fix that before the whole thing crashed on his head.
Things were swimming around him. He felt like he was living in a perpetual daze, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was all due to the drugs. He wasn’t even quite sure of what it was that he was taking—some coke here and there, a few pills. They gave him a rush, at first, but now even that exhilarating effect was beginning to last less and less. It was driving him mad. Could he really be that depressed that even chemically-induced exhilaration would be trampled by the gloom of his feelings?
He hated this. He hardly recognized himself, and he knew the others weren’t quite happy with what he was doing either. He wasn’t lucid. Most of the time he was kept out of any significant operation due to his being a loose cannon—unpredictable and unreliable. He knew it was only a matter of time before they voted him out, and he was well aware that the only reason why that had not happened yet was because of his brotherly bond with Alec. But he knew Alec wouldn’t be able—or willing—to protect him much longer. His best friend’s patience was running incredibly thin, and Lind didn’t blame him.
Still, he couldn’t get around to blaming himself either. It was all Eve’s fault. She had entered his existence for a short few weeks and left him lonely, confused, and, he had to admit it, heartbroken. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. God knows he tried, too. It was because of her that he was doing what he was doing—trying to lose himself in the detached embrace of other women and fighting his crappy reality with drug-altered perceptions.
None of it was working. Orgasms were a physical reaction that he couldn’t control or enjoy, and the drugs only enhanced the intensity of all those feelings that he was so desperately trying not to feel.
Seeing as he was obtaining the opposite effect of what he was trying to achieve, he knew that he should probably stop with the drugs and the random fucks. But he didn’t know how to do that either. Since Eve left, Lind had been feeling like he didn’t know how to do anything anymore. All he seemed to be able to do was think about her. Anything else seemed dull. All the things that had brought him pleasure before simply left him feeling empty. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. He always thought he would never fall, not him. Not for a woman. But he did. He had fallen so spectacularly that he didn’t know how to get up again.
Lind tried. He tried very hard at first. Then, at some point, he had stopped trying. These days, he just floated. He didn’t know what was worse: the emptiness he felt whenever he tried to engage his body and mind with something else that wasn’t Eve Robinson, or the searing pain he experienced whenever he found himself thinking about her. The memories were the worst.
***
A loud and persistent knocking at the door tore Lind away from his depressing musings. He thought too often about his first time with Eve, and every time he did it tore him apart just a little more and the pain got just a little harsher.
The knocking continued and he lay still, trying to decide whether he could be bothered to answer.
“Lind, I swear to God, if you don’t open this door, I’m gonna tear it down myself!” Alec’s voice roared from outside.
Lind sighed heavily. Anyone else might eventually have given up and gone away, but not Alec.
“It’s open, you jerk!” Lind called out with a rough voice that he hardly recognized as his own. When was the last time he had drunk anything that even resembled water?
Not one to be told anything twice, Alec barged into the room. He looked around and scrunched his nose in disgust.
“It smells like cheap beer and even cheaper whore in here,” he declared matter-of-factly.
Lind snorted, not even attempting to get off the bed or cover his nakedness. “Whatever you say.”
Alec watched him sternly. He walked back to the door that he had left open and closed it with a slam. Then, he rounded back on Lind. “Get up.”
“Why?” Lind asked laconically. “Is there an operation you suddenly want me for?”
Alec’s gray eyes narrowed in warning. “Don’t give me that shit. You’re the one who got yourself out of the game.”
Lind grunted. He got up groggily and fumbled around for his boxers. He almost fell, as he put them back on.
“What did you take today?” Alec asked.
Lind snorted. “Fuck if I know,” he muttered, looking around for his clothes.
He must have been sporting a particularly lost expression on his face, because Alec collected his jeans and t-shirt from the floor and handed them over without a comment.
“You’re coming over to my place for dinner.”
Lind looked up from the pants’ zipper—which suddenly seemed to him like a very complicated device—and stared at his friend in surprise. “Really? You’ve come to deliver a dinner invitation?”
“It was Linda’s idea,” Alec said sincerely. “Me, I would’ve much preferred to deliver a punch. You’re seriously starting to piss me off.” He looked around once again. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, man! Can’t you do this shit at your own place?”
“No way I’m bringing a whore to my place and letting her know where I live.”
“So trashing the club’s headquarters is okay?”
Lind rolled his eyes. “The headquarters are hardly trashed. Just this one room.” He grinned.
Alec did not look amused. “Clean yourself up. I don’t want you smelling like booze and sperm around my kids.”
Lind snorted. “Whatever you say.”
Alec ran a hand slowly across his face and took in a long breath, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “Get yourself into the shower. Then, we’re going out.”
Lind frowned. “Is it dinnertime already?”
“No, you misfit. We’re getting you some black coffee, and we’re getting you cleaned up before dinnertime rolls along.” Alec glared murderously at him. “I don’t care what Linda says, you are not setting foot in my house looking and smelling like that.”