Bishop

Tonight when I go out, and yes I am going out, instead of heading to K Road and the gay clubs there, I head to a more unsavoury part of town. Here the drugs are harder, the booze cheaper and more potent. It’s a deadly combination but one I desperately need, consequences be damned. I don’t even keep count of the number of drinks I have or lines I do. I don’t care enough to know. If something happens to me, at least I’ll go out with a bang, right? I drink and snort, anything to get the image of Brook kneeling in front of me out of my head. I drink to forget the feel of Jonny’s tongue in my mouth. I drink to forget the man who started this downfall in the first place.

Sometime later I find myself on a ratty couch, surrounded by people I don’t know, but who apparently all know me.

“Yo, Bishop, bro, you were like amazing at the Extreme Games,” one guy says to me.

I nod. “Thanks, bro.”

“That 540 tailwhip, solid, bro,” my newfound bro says.

“Appreciate it,” I tell him. “Hey, you got any more?” I mime doing a line.

“Oh yeah, no probs,” bro says and tips a pile of white powder on the filthy coffee table in front of us. This is what I love about being famous, people are always giving shit to me. Doesn’t matter if I have more money than sin, free stuff will just be showered upon me. I guess that’s how the rich stay rich, ’cause they never have to spend their money.

The bro keeps talking and I keep doing his coke. It’s an arrangement that definitely works for me. Eventually though, the sky starts to lighten.

“Oh shit,” bro says, “the sun.”

I shrug. “You got any more?” I ask, and motion to his pocket.

Bro checks and comes up empty. “Nah, bro, you must’ve done it all.”

“Fuck.” I can already feel my high coming down even though it shouldn’t be possible, not with the amount I’ve done. “Can you get any more?” I ask.

“Er….” Bro scratches at his arm.

“I’ve got cash if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say. See? Look what a nice guy I am. I guess it is only fair, considering I was the one who did the majority of his stash.

His eyes light up. “Yeah, I can get some.”

“What are we waiting for then?”

I book an Uber for me and my bro and go back to the hotel. The entire ride back he keeps up a steady stream of chatter. If it weren’t for the promise of some quality blow, I’d have punched him in the face by now.

“Call your guy,” I tell him as I go into the bedroom to get some cash.

Fifteen anxious minutes later, where bro still doesn’t shut up, there’s a knock at the door. Bro’s dealer is a weaselly-looking fella, but as long as his product is good, he could be Ritchie McCaw for all I care. I see him eyeing off the plush furnishings of the hotel room and decide it’s time to get rid of him. The door is barely shut behind him before I’m organising the neat white lines I’ve come to crave. In the background, bro is still talking. I don’t even know what he’s talking about, or how he can talk about it for so long, but I swear if he doesn’t shut up soon I’m going to make him. I thought he left with his dealer, but apparently not.

“Do you ever shut up?” I ask after my second line.

Bro just laughs. “You’re funny.”

“I’m trying to get high, that’s what I am,” I reply.

“It’s mint shit, yeah?”

“It’d be better without all your noise.”

He rears back like I hit him. The cocaine coursing through my system energises me.

“Hey,” he says, holding his hands up, “I thought we were bros.”

“I’m not your bro!” I shout, flinging the coffee table over, spilling the bag of white powder that was on it. “I’m not your cuz, I’m not anything to you. You don’t even know me, no one does.”

“You seemed pretty friendly to me,” he says dumbly.

“Well I’m not. I’m not your party buddy or your meal ticket or a drug hook-up.”

“Okay, bro, it’s all good.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Bro!” My anger’s a runaway train, fuelled by cocaine and pent-up emotions. There’s no stopping it.

“My bad, br—” He stops himself.

I shake my head. “Just get out.”

“Are you sure? You did a lot of blow, maybe someone should stay with you.”

I laugh. “And what? Hold my hand as I sleep? You’re volunteering to do that?”

He shrugs. “You don’t got no one else, do ya?”

“Just go, man,” I tell him.

“Are you—”

“Leave!” I yell and pick up a lamp from a side table and throw it across the room. When he doesn’t move, I pick up the TV remote, then another lamp, a vase, and throw them in his direction. Finally, with a yell, I manage to pick up the flat screen TV and fling it to the ground. I’m pretty sure he was already out the door by the time I threw it, but I was too far gone to care or notice. I slump to the floor, exhausted, surrounded by a mess but no more than what already resembles my life.

A loud banging on the door gets my attention.

“Mr. Royal? Mr. Royal, are you all right?” a voice calls. “We’ve had reports of a disturbance.” I get up and open the door.

“Oh, Mr. Royal, are you okay?” a relieved staff member asks. Actually, his badge reads Manager.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, turning my back on him and heading to the couch.

“We received reports of a disturb….” He trails off when he sees the destruction.

“You don’t happen to have a cigarette, do you?” I ask.

The manager shakes his head. “We’re a non-smoking hotel.”

“Bummer.”

“What happened?” he asks.

“He wouldn’t leave,” I tell him. “I had to make him leave.”

“You did this?” he asks, and I shrug. “Please wait here,” he tells me, and I wave him off. I hear him on the phone, and I don’t know how long afterwards more people pile into my suite.

“Bishop Royal?” a voice asks.

“That’s me,” I say as I lie on the couch, my arms hugging a pillow, my eyes closed.

“Mr. Royal, can you tell us what happened here?”

“He wouldn’t leave so I threw things until he did.” I chuckle, recalling the scared look on bro’s face.

“Mr. Royal, are you freely admitting you caused this damage?”

“Yep, just little ol’ me. Who says I can’t do anything right, huh?”

“Mr. Royal, please stand up.”

“Okay, hang on.” I manage to get to my feet, opening my eyes as I do.

“Please turn around,” the officer says. I zone out the second the cold metal closes around my wrists.