Chase
Sick. Restless. The skitter of a billion spiders creeps under my skin. My arms and legs won’t stop twitching. And I’m tired. So exhausted yet sleep eludes me.
Toss, turn, twitch, yawn.
Toss, turn, twitch, yawn.
A sheen of sweat breaks out over my ice-cold skin. That concrete feeling in my blood settles behind my eyes. I’d reach back there and tear them from my skull if I thought it would offer one second of relief, but there’s only one remedy. A quick fix and I’ll be right as rain.
This is what dope sick feels like.
It all goes downhill from here.
“Desi.” I reach next to me and nudge my girl. I know she’s holding; she’s got to be. The uncontrollable quiver makes it hard to prepare what I need to help me feel normal again. I need her help. “Des . . . come on.”
She doesn’t move. With the heels of my hands, I rub my watery eyes and look over. Jealousy, anger, hurt, betrayal . . . my initial feelings. She’s high as shit and unresponsive.
Fuck, I hurt. It’s not long before the pain is so bad I can’t think straight.
It doesn’t occur to me that’s she’s stiff and frozen . . . all I can think about is a cure.
I awaken with a start, covered in sweat, ripped from the nightmare I was having. Demons scream and dance before my eyes as my vision begins to sharpen. The screaming wanes to a shrill ring, and as I slowly descend back to reality, I learn there’s no one here but me.
Still, the ringing doesn’t quit. I swipe my phone from the nightstand, flinching from the vivid light illuminating the pitch-black room. “Kat. It’s . . .” I crack a lid and glance at the cable box under my television. “One a.m.”
“Chase . . .” My name is a haunting whisper floating from her lips.
“You okay?” When she doesn’t respond right away, I sit up in the dark and rub the remainder of sleep from my eyes. “Kat, answer me.”
Rocks tumble in my gut. Her breath is lethargic, filtering into my ear like another bad dream. “No one wants me, Chase. Why am I here?” she stutters, her slurred speech sluggish and sleepy.
“What do you mean?”
“I hate my life, Chase. I just don’t wanna do it anymore. Costas was right. My father was right. How could anyone love me? I have nothing to offer another person.” She’s barely coherent. The words come out a muttered mess, like puzzle pieces I need to assemble to see the big picture. Costas? Her father? What the hell is she talking about?
“Where’s your mom?”
“She left me. I’m all alone. I’m tired of being alone. I’ll die alone.” Her voice hitches in her throat. “Go back to sleep. I just wanted to hear your voice one last time.”
“Kat! Holy fuck, Kat, don’t hang up!” Every cell in my body vibrates as I run around the room looking for my sneakers.
“What did you take, Kat?” I find my keys and run. With the phone gripped between my ear and shoulder, I slam the Jeep into reverse and speed down the road. “Kat! I’m on my way!”
Silence.
“Kat! Fuck! Kat!”
What did you do? Don’t fucking do this to me!
Panic shoots through my blood. My fingers shake as I disconnect the call and dial 911. I shout her address, swinging into her driveway like a bat out of hell. The relentless dinging of the car alerting me that I’ve left my keys in the ignition doesn’t halt my hot pursuit. The only thing on my mind is getting to her.
I run to the door, but it’s locked. “Kat!” I shout, slamming my shoulder into the heavy wood. It doesn’t budge. “Fuck!”
Sprinting around the house, I search for a way in. Light shines through a patio door in the back. Kat lies sprawled out on a bed. Her arm hangs lifelessly off the edge, a prescription pill bottle clutched in her manicured hand. White powder speckles the black nightstand next to another strewn empty bottle. I can only assume she snorted some or all of whatever was inside. A blue trickle of vomit pours down the side of her mouth. Blue? I scream her name again, pounding on the pane and tugging at the door.
I have to get inside this house. Frantically, I twist and turn, looking for something that could break the tempered glass. A wrought-iron bistro set sits at the edge of the patio. I hurl the chair with all my might. A shattered spider web of cracks splinters the pane. I lift the chair and heave it again, and this time, shards of glass explode, twinkling in the silver moon as they scatter across the uneven bricks and ugly beige carpet.
With little effort, I flip her to her stomach. Her body’s still warm, and her pulse is still moving, albeit slow, but still, it beats. The prescription bottle that was lodged in her hand bounces to the floor next to an empty fifth of vodka. What’s left of a bottle of blue mouthwash seeps into the sheets next to her.
Sirens wail in the distance. I don’t want to leave her side, but I tear myself away for as long as it takes to navigate through the darkened house and unlock the front door for the paramedics.
Why would you do this, Kat? What happened between yesterday and today that would make you think death was the only option left?
The constant beep and hum of machines fill the dead air between Kat’s restless whimpers. I haven’t slept. Every so often she twitches, sending the machines into a frenzy of alarms and perking my nodding head up.
I tried to call Kat’s mother from her phone, but wherever she is, she’s not answering. Athena’s phone went straight to voicemail. So here I sit, watching and waiting. I won’t let her wake up alone.
Eyes roll around beneath their almond-shaped lids. Her expressionless face pinches. I slip my hand into hers, feeling her fingers tighten around it. “Kat.” My voice sounds low, hollow. Thoughts of what could have been roll through my brain. Visions of Desiree’s frozen face compared to Kat’s warm one. I saved her, but I’m shaken to the core. So much so that I hear my bones rattle beneath the skin.
Slashes of white appear between slit lids before her glazed eyes blink open. For a moment, she’s dazed. She glances around the room, taking it all in. Tears emerge when she focuses on my face, but she turns away. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Was I supposed to let you kill yourself?”
“Yes.”
What feels like an eternity passes before I’m calm enough to speak again. “Suicide is never the answer.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t need another lecture, Chase. I get it. I’m a fucking failure. I can’t even kill myself right.” The straps securing her arms snap her hand back when she tries to wipe her face, and she groans. “They’re going to put me away.” Her sobs come fast and hard. “Why did you do this to me?”
“Nobody is putting you anywhere.”
When her head rolls back in my direction, her jagged glare slices me in half. “Where do you think suicide cases go, Chase? I can assure you it’s not Disneyland.”
“Why were you trying to kill yourself?”
“Just leave me alone.”
“Answer me. Why, Kat?”
“I said go!” she shouts with a grimace. I can only imagine how bad her head hurts. Ingesting that much mouthwash and vodka is bound to make her sick. When they pumped her stomach, so much blue liquid shot out it was like a waterfall.
“No. You brought me into this!”
“Well, I don’t want you here now!”
“Why?”
“It’s humiliating,” she wails. “I don’t want you to be here when I’m hitting rock bottom.”
A cold shot of laughter bursts from my lungs. “You have no idea what rock bottom looks like.” The tingling starts in my fingertips and inches its way up my arms and through my chest. Tiny spiked balls of angst rolling through my veins, shredding my self-control. “Rock bottom is waking up next to your dead girlfriend so dope sick that all you can do is shoot up next to her corpse. It’s being so fucking strung out you have no idea what to do, so you live with her rotting body for three days praying to God the heroin kills you next, so you don’t have to deal with it. It’s being given the choice between prison or rehab and suffering through so much fucking pain you want to claw your own face off. What this is, is a cry for help. So don’t act like you’re all alone and no one knows how you feel because, dammit, I’ve been through it all, I’ve seen it all, and I’m not fucking leaving here without you!”
The adrenaline whipping through my blood makes it hard to see straight. Fuck! No. It’s the tears I didn’t realize were falling that blur my vision. With the back of my hand, I swipe them away. Kat just stares dumbfounded, her enormous eyes as wide as saucers. “You’re a heroin addict?”
“I’m cleaned up now, but that doesn't mean that every day isn’t a constant struggle for me.” I sit at the edge of the bed and thread my fingers with hers. “I know what addiction feels like, Kat. Let me help you. Tell me what happened.”
“My mom sold the house without even talking to me about it then ran off to Bermuda with her fiancé. I lost my job. I have no money, no home. No one gets me. I’m too fucked up in the head for anyone to ever love me.”
“Hey. Look at me.” My finger catches under her damp chin. The gut reaction in this situation is to argue. Tell her she’s being silly and it’s not as bad as she thinks. Say she’s great and loved and all that happy stuff, but it’s a cop-out. She doesn't want reassurance; she wants validation. “I understand.”
The squeaky whisper of rubber-soled shoes on laminate sounds from the door, and I stand. “Miss Andropoulos. Nice to see you awake.” The fabric on the doctor’s pants whooshes as she lets herself farther into the room. The relief that washes over Kat’s face tells me she knows her.
“Hi, Dr. Wane. Can you please take these off me?” Kat holds her fists as high in the air as she can, which is less than a foot off the mattress.
“I can. As long as you promise not to start tearing at your IV again.”
“They told you about that, huh?” The moment Kat’s hands are free, they spring to her face. She quickly wipes her eyes and pushes back her matted hair. “When can I go home?” Kat’s voice and face seem so innocent it’s frightening. Underneath the makeup and party-girl persona is a scared little kid. My heart screams out to hold her. To climb on her bed and ease her burden, but it’s out of my hands.
“That’s up to you.”
The doctor claims the chair at Kat’s bedside and opens the folder that was clutched under her arm. A psych eval sheet sits between the manila flaps, along with dozens of pages full of chicken scratch. This is Kat’s personal business. I shouldn’t be here for this. “I’m just going to grab a coffee from the cafeteria. I’ll be back.”
The two women barely acknowledge my exit, and that’s fine. I don’t want Kat to read the fear in my eyes. Seeing her sprawled out on her bed clinging to life was surreal. It brought it all back, every last memory of Desiree; only this time, it was worse. So much worse. The hollow sound of her voice will haunt me forever. I hate my life, Chase. I don’t wanna do it anymore.
Her words hurt my heart. Feelings of despair and anguish, pain and regret bubbled to the surface. Living with the fear of being alone forever, hiding in the shadows of our shame. I don’t want it anymore either.
Time ticks by slowly in hospitals. I huddle in the corner of the café watching hopeful visitors and time-crunched nurses run in and out. People hate hospitals but not me. This is where life begins and ends. We’re born here. We die here. It’s a simple process. The circle of life. It’s everything in between that’s painful. Inside these walls, there’s always hope.
Kat’s doctor stops me in the hall as I return to the room. “Have you gotten in touch with Katarina’s family?”
“No. Her mom’s out of town, and her dad . . .”
“Say no more.” She nods, her face sympathetic. “Under these circumstances, we normally keep our patients for observation. However, having talked to her, I don’t believe this will be a recurring event.”
“So she’ll be released?” I exhale hard. That’s great news!
“It’s not that simple. I can only release her into someone else’s care.”
“I will take her. Release her into my care.” The oath tumbles from my lips and hangs in the sterile air, burning my nostrils. It wasn’t until the words were spoken out loud that I realize how crazy it sounds. This isn’t some puppy needing to be fostered; this is a full-grown woman with issues on top of issues. I already have one of those living at my house. Do I really want another? The question precedes visions of Kat’s smile, the sound of her innocent giggles, and the sweet smell of her hair.
Yes. I do. I want her so badly I can taste it.
Dr. Wane side-eyes me for a moment. Clearly, Kat’s given her some insight into our relationship. She must have because the doctor agrees.
Kat stares quietly at her bed sheets as I reenter the room. “I hear you’re being released for good behavior.”
“Great. Not that I have anywhere to go.”
“You’ll stay with me.”
“No. I don’t want your pity—”
“It’s not pity. You need a place to stay, and I have an extra room. Just until you get on your feet.”
“What is this? Some kind of fucked-up attempt to build Karma?”
“It’s not an attempt at anything. I just want to help.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “What’s in it for you?”
I shrug then square my shoulders. “I don’t have a lot of friends. I just . . . like having you around.”
The corners of her mouth twist up. A sweet little smile that kicks my pulse up a notch. “You really are a quirky dude, ain’t ya?”
“Baby, I’m lookin’ at quirky in the rearview.” I chuckle. “But it’s not like you're the poster child for normalcy, either.”
“We’re hopeless.”
“Perfect friends.”
She responds with a sincere smile. “It’s settled then. Mi casa es su casa. But,” —I hold up my left hand and count off with my right— “there’s no drinking in my house. At all. And you take your meds as directed. No more snorting your prescriptions, okay?”
And under no circumstances will I allow you near another man.
Whoa, where did that sudden rush of jealousy come from?
She nods.
“Good. Now, let’s get you home.”
Kat has the most obnoxious dog in the history of dogs. A yappy little rat in a purple sweater and rhinestone collar. Aphro, as she calls the thing, and a small bag of clothes is all she took from her house on the way home from the hospital. The shattered door and blue-stained sheets were a lot for her to handle in her frazzled state. Hard returning to the scene of the crime.
I slide the dog away with my foot and set down a bowl of soup on the coffee table.
“Thanks,” Kat says but doesn’t move. Her slender body is nothing more than a lithe lump under a blanket on my couch. This is where she fell and has remained since the moment we walked in the door.
“You really should eat. You’ll feel better with something in your stomach.”
“I don’t think your grandma likes me.”
My gaze floats toward the white-haired woman sitting at my right. The leather Barcalounger was hers from our old house. I have no idea how she ended up taking it, but somehow she did, and here it is. The only chair she sits in when she’s not in her bedroom. Her glassy eyes remain fixed on the television, but she’s not watching. Just staring off into space the way she does way too often these days.
“You don’t need to whisper. I doubt she even knows you’re here.” Lifting Kat’s feet, I sit on the couch and rest them back down on my lap. “She has good days and bad. Half the time, I’m not even sure she knows who I am anymore, but then other times it’s as if a light switch was turned on and she remembers everything. Brief moments of crystal clarity before the fog returns.”
“That sucks.”
Things with Kat are always that simple. There’s no continued line of questioning or false apologies. She just lays her cards out on the table, a royal flush of honesty.
It does suck. She speaks the truth.
“Yep.” I reach across her calves to lift the plastic bowl from the table and hand it to Kat directly. “Have you talked to Athena?”
With the bowl perched on her palm, she brings it close to her mouth and blows. “No. I need to be in good fighting form before I can have that conversation. She’s gonna rag on me.”
“Your family needs to know what happened. Get it over with.”
She sucks some broth off the spoon, wincing from the heat. “Great, now you’re raggin’ on me.”
“No. I just know Athena cares about you.”
She nods and sips her soup. Before long, the bowl is empty, and the color’s returned to her cheeks. She curls her legs under her then sits and rests her head on my shoulder. “Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good,” I say with a playful shoulder shrug. “Maybe a shower should be next then. You stink.”
“Ewww!” She extends the word, adding an ah sound at the end for effect. “You love how I stink.”
God, do I ever!
When she pushes off the couch, her little rat dog yelps as Kat mashes her tail on accident. “Oops! Sorry, Aphro!” Zeus keeps to himself, curled in the corner, a long, pink tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. He’s the perfect dog. So chill and calm when he’s in the house. Unlike this ridiculous little Yorkie fighting with my grandma’s slippers.
“Gram! You wanna go to bed?” Grandma’s watery eyes look my way before she shuffles off the chair. Watching her get up is a sight to behold. She scoots her ass to the edge then leans all the way forward, propelling herself off the seat. I swear, one of these days, her wrinkled ass is just going to hit the floor.
I stand near and wait in case she needs my help. I don’t want to crowd her or take away her last shred of independence. It’s bad enough she’s locked inside her own head. She doesn't need to be treated like an invalid as well.
She lifts a hand and rests it on my cheek. “Night, Tanner.”
Every time she uses the name, I die a little bit inside. Not because of what it represents, and not because it’s a family name that’s been held over my head my entire life, a reminder of what a disgrace I am, but because it means she doesn’t know it’s me. She thinks I’m him.
Zeus gets up from his spot on the floor and trudges over to the door. “You gotta go out, boy?” He responds with a high-pitched series of whimpers. “Let me go grab a smoke.”
Yes, I talk to my dog like he’s a person, and no, I don’t think it’s weird at all. Dogs are better than humans. At least they’re loyal.
I jaunt to my room for a fresh pack of cigs but stop short in the doorway. A curtain of onyx hair conceals Kat’s profile as she looks down at the phone in her hand. More silken strands flow down her back, reaching the smooth line of skin that peeks between her tank and underwear. Not just any underwear. Those tiny shorts chicks wear. The kind that grips their ass like a cotton hug. I’m so beyond fucked it’s not even funny.
I’m also as solid as a steel rod.
“Ground rules!” I say, marching into the room. “You can’t be walking around in your underwear. Put some clothes on.”
“Duh, I was just about to!” She leans forward on her knees, her pert ass rising as she reaches for a pair of shorts folded in front of her. The tiny scrap of red nylon unfurls in her hand, and fuck if it’s not just as sexy.
“No-no. Sweatpants . . .” A wide grin splits her face as she watches me stalk to my dresser. “My sweatpants.” I pull a pair of black Nike gym pants from my drawer and drop them on the comforter.
“Wow. Do you really find my body that repulsive?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I just said don’t do it.” I keep my back facing her, waiting for her to cover up and for my obnoxious erection to recede. Maybe this was a bad idea. Kat’s gorgeous—a woman I can’t stop fantasizing about—and now she’s living in my house, kneeling on my bed like a bronze goddess just waiting to be worshipped, and my cock is begging for a religious experience.
She catches my gaze in the mirror’s reflection, a naughty twinkle in her smoldering stare. “So just to be clear on the rules,” —she rises to her knees, her fingertips grazing the lace waistband of her panties— “why don’t we go over what is and isn’t allowed on this bed. In detail.” They slide inside down to her second row of knuckles. “I assume, given your current state of celibacy, that you’re fine with a little self-love?”
. . .and my cock will never be soft again.
“Kat.” Her name falls off my tongue raspy and thick.
“You know what they say. He who hesitates masturbates.”
Slowly, I turn to face her. She knows exactly what she does to me. This is fun for her. She gets off on watching me burn to ash under the heat of my want, but I don’t fucking play games.
“This—” I reach out and cup the apex of her thighs. She gasps and falls limp, but my free hand catches around the nape of her neck. “Isn’t a weapon.” Warm wetness saturates the strip of cotton under my fingers. Her already black eyes darken, the corners curving toward her nose. “Don’t push me, Katarina.”
The mattress bounces under her weight when I release my grip. Without another word, I swipe my cigarettes from the nightstand and leave her lying on the bed.
Testosterone floods my veins. When I slam the door open, both dogs run out. I tap my smokes against my hand then pull one out and bring it to my lips. The sweet scent of something salacious wafts into my nostrils.
Goddammit.
A hint of Kat’s lust lingers on my fingertips. I look down at them in shock, furious at their bitter betrayal. That luscious smell has me ravenous. She’s on my skin, in my head, and slowly leaking into my heart.