Chapter 3

Adam

“You’re looking awfully chipper,” Royal, one of my tattoo artists, accuses.

“I’m always chipper,” I respond with a cheeky grin.

“Right, of course you are.” He snorts a laugh and I give him the finger. “Oh, I get it, you were all up in Kira’s nasty snatch last night, weren’t you?”

I cringe at his crude language. Royal’s not exactly the think before you speak type so I’ve gotten used to his particular way with words.

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with Kira’s snatch, as you so eloquently put it. And no, we didn’t hook up last night. I told her I’m over it.”

Royal rolls his eyes.

“I’ve heard that one before. Well, whatever’s got you in such a good mood, I hope it lasts.”

“Thanks man, me too.”

“Ready to go home?” Nash, another of my artists and Royal’s best friend and roommate, asks Royal as he emerges from the back.

“Yeah, I just want to veg out and watch some movies or something.”

“Cool. Order a pizza?” Nash throws an arm over Royal’s shoulder and I don’t miss the look of longing that passes over Royal’s face.

Royal’s been in love with Nash forever. The problem is that Nash is straight, or at least straight-ish. Who knows, maybe they’ll find their way at some point. I’m rooting for them.

 

 

Nox

“Thanks, you were good,” the guy says dismissively as he stands from my bed and pulls his jeans back into place. I don’t even know his name.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wad of bills.

“Over there is fine,” I nod toward my dresser.

He sets the cash on top of the dresser, pulls his shirt on, and leaves without a backward glance.

My skin crawls with a familiar feeling, the throbbing emptiness in my chest only serving to double my need for relief, for escape.

I roll over and grab my jeans off the floor. I reach my hand into the front pocket and come back with a small handful of assorted pills. Without concern for what they are I toss the whole lot into my mouth and swallow them dry.

The pills and dope used to stamp down the suffocating loneliness. The desperation to feel something, anything used to be tempered by the drugs.

My phone buzzes from somewhere on the floor.

 

 

Inked: Hey Phoenix

Phoenix: Why hello there, Inked. How’s it going?

 

 

The empty ache in my chest eases a fraction at the emotional contact with someone I’ve come to consider a friend, even if we’ve never met or even spoken. It doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous. He’s exactly the kind of man I picture when I close my eyes and let myself imagine a life where I’m happy.

 

 

Inked: Nothing exciting today. So bored at work I’m looking up anti-jokes and giggling to myself

Phoenix: wtf is an anti-joke? Lol

Inked: What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?

Phoenix: what?

Inked: Hey, where’s my tractor

Phoenix: *snort  laugh*, seriously, what the actual fuck?

Inked: hell if I know, it’s funny though

Inked: Can I ask you something?

Phoenix: Of course

Inked: What’s your screen name mean?

Phoneix: My mom used to always say ‘from ashes we rise’, made me think of the mythical Phoenix. Just popped into my head when I was making my profile on this app.

Inked: That’s kind of a nice saying. Was there something specific she meant by it?

Phoenix: Who knows, she was high as a fucking kite 24 hours a day lol

Inked: That’ must’ve been hard as a kid.

Phoenix: yeah well, life sucks and then you die. No big deal, I survived.

Inked: I wish I could do more for you. I wish you’d seriously consider coming out to Seattle and letting me help you. I’ll wire you the money for the plane ticket.

Phoenix: I told you last time we talked, I’m not taking your charity

 

 

There’s an odd, warm tingle along my skin at the very idea that someone like this sexy, successful man with his shit together gives a fuck about someone like me. Is it possible for me to take a chance at a new life?

The walls of my shitty apartment feel like they’re closing in on me. The drugs aren’t enough to numb the pain anymore. The thought of living this way for one more day is agony. The only thing that has kept me from taking a straight razor and dragging it across my wrists is Inked.

I don’t understand why but he gives a shit about whether I live or die. At least he seems to. For some inexplicable reason I don’t want to let him down. I want to find a way to crawl out of this pit of despair rather than succumb to it. But fuck if that doesn’t sound like the most insurmountable task. I’m the spider in the sink, scrambling for a foothold, but inevitably being pulled down the drain.

 

 

Phoenix: Have you ever woken up in the morning and just wished you didn’t have to anymore?

Inked: Please talk to me. What’s wrong?

Phoenix: Everything is wrong. I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t take it anymore.

Inked: I want to help you. Please tell me how I can help you?

Phoenix: I’m not sure there is any help for me

Inked: I don’t mean to sound like a broken record but I’ll buy you a plane ticket. Come out to Seattle, I’ll help you get clean, I’ll do anything to make sure you’re ok. It’s not charity I swear.

Phoenix: I’ll think about it

Inked: Please let me help you

Phoenix: You’ve helped me in more ways than you know. I think I need to figure out a way to help myself now.

 

 

Adam

I stand outside a well-kept two-story house just outside of the city, waiting for someone to answer the door.

It only takes a few seconds for the door to swing open. A large man with a friendly smile greets me.

“Adam, good to see you again,” he says, holding his hand out to shake.

“Ditto, man.” I step inside and look around. It looks as nice inside as it did from the outside which eases some of the anxiety I’ve been having lately over Madden staying here.

A little over a week ago my employee, friend, and roommate Madden was shot during a hate incident at a gay club downtown. He met Thane, the owner of the house I’m currently standing in, that same night.

I met Madden a few years ago when he was a homeless junkie who stumbled into Heathens looking to sell some sketches. No doubt he planned to use the money for dope. I looked at the skinny, twitchy kid in need of a hand up in the world, and I saw Johnny.

I offered Madden an apprenticeship on the spot with the catch being he was never to touch drugs again. To my surprise, he accepted. He’s been a good friend and a good employee ever since.

After the shooting his leg wasn’t in any shape for our fifth floor walk-up, so Thane offered for him to stay at his place where there was a spare bedroom on the first floor. This is the longest Madden has been out of my sight in years. Maybe I’m a little over protective of him, but he always seemed fragile to me. Or maybe I’m projecting Johnny onto him again.

“Hey dude,” I greet Madden as I walk into the living room and find Madden on the couch. 

I slide down onto the couch cushion beside Madden and he winces. I immediately feel awful. I can’t imagine the amount of pain he must still be in.

“Let me get you some Tylenol,” Thane rushes to offer when he notices the pain in Madden’s expression.

“Yeah, thanks,” Madden grits out.

His face turns in my direction and I can’t stop myself from quickly assessing him, looking for any signs that he might be taking the Oxy he was prescribed at the hospital.

“Don’t worry, it’s plain Tylenol, no codeine,” Madden assures me.

“Are you doing okay with...everything?” I ask. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be trying to heal but not being able to take your pain meds.

“Yeah, haven’t touched the shit the hospital sent me home with.”

“What about everything else?”

Thane returns with a glass of water and two extra strength Tylenol. I watch as Madden gives Thane an adoring smile. A niggle of jealousy worms its way into my chest. Not over Madden, he’s like a brother to me. But the thought of having someone to care for you, and to care for in return...it sounds nice.

“I’m alright. I’m healing little by little, Thane’s taking good care of me.”

“Good. When does your physical therapy start?”

“Tomorrow, then I should have a timeline for getting back to work.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your job is there waiting for you, no matter how long it takes. Focus on getting better.”

“Thanks, man.”

My phone pings with a message and I quickly whip it out, hoping it’ll be from Phoenix.

 

 

Phoenix: Why don’t kleptomaniacs like puns?

Inked: why?

Phoenix: because they always take things literally

Inked: lol! Ok that one was actually really funny

Phoenix: *takes a bow*

 

 

“Kira?” Madden asks with a hint of disapproval in his tone.

I know none of them ever got why I fucked around with Kira. I can’t explain it myself, other than to say she was hot and the sex was good.

“Uh, no,” I shove my phone back in my pocket, still thinking of Phoenix.

We settle back and fall into a comfortable silence as a new episode of Tattoo Nightmares comes on.

 

 

Nox

Inked: Have you ever felt so lonely it’s like a physical pain?

Phoenix: every day

Phoenix: Having a bad day?

Inked: I wouldn’t go that far. Just thinking lately about how nice it would be to have someone

Phoenix: ok, describe for me your perfect life partner

Inked: get’s my sense of humor, doesn’t mind spending a friday night watching terrible movies together, adventurous in bed...basically I want a best friend who I can fuck. Lol.

Phoenix: guy or girl?

Inked: doesn’t matter. What about you?

Phoenix

Inked: He’s out there. You just need to fight to find him. Don’t give up yet.

Phoenix: You’re making me want to fight, for the first time in my life.

Inked: Come to Seattle

Phoenix: Maybe