HOW TO RUIN YOUR LIFE (LGBTQ+)

9

Jazz scowled in annoyance as Asa drove away, quickly disappearing around the highway bend, her hair flowing in the wind. She wasn't even wearing a helmet.

    "Fuck that asshole," she hissed, pulling out her phone and dialing Locke's number.

    He picked up on the second ring, the sound of muffled chatter and music in the background. He was at a gambling den, like he was every night, earning money here and there. He had a real talent, but he avoided going to the same places often and earning too much money. He loved the thrill, but also didn't want to run from those in charge. So he stuck with earning a few hundred here, a few hundred there, and a few thousand once in a while. It fueled his addiction enough without getting him in trouble, and he got to pay the bills at the same time. Sometimes he went to watch Sterling's fights and bet on that too. Sterling usually won, so it wasn't hard to earn money at his fights.

    "Hey, babe, what's up?"

    Jazz took a deep breath. "Your stupid friend just took six tequila shots and pissed off."

    "Asa? Why?"

    "Something was wrong, she just stormed in and demanded alcohol, left me an epic tip, and then got on her motorcycle."

    There was a pause. "Yeah, sounds like Asa."

    "Don't you care?" Jazz asked. "She might crash and fucking die."

    "Yeah, I just texted Sterling. I can't leave here, but I know he's free right now. Was she headed down highway 87?"

    "Yes."

    "She's done this before, you know, so it'll be fine-"

    "Yeah, I know, but it's been a while since I've seen her get wasted, so I'm a little worried, okay?" Jazz snapped. "How close is Sterling?"

    "He's already on the highway, you should see him speeding past you any second-"

    Jazz blinked as a big diesel truck sped past her on the highway, only a few minutes behind Asa. "Fuck, that was fast. Thank you, bye." She hung up and stormed back into the bar, pulling the bill she forgot about from her tank top strap and angrily stuffing it in her pocket before giving her attention to the next customer.

-

I wasn't able to drive more than a few minutes before I had to pull over on the side of the highway. The motorcycle tipped over, but I caught it and lowered it as gently as I could to the ground, the keys still dangling from the ignition. I wouldn't be going far, so it was fine. I leaned over and dry heaved for a few seconds, one hand held out in the air as if it was gonna give me some balance.

    The memories from earlier played back in my mind like a movie. It had been really great to see Joe and Persia again, together.

    The moon was shining through the cracks in the forest, and I looked ahead into the darkness that enveloped the woods. It was inviting. I felt my fists clenching and unclenching, my muscles burning.

    I needed to take my frustration out, on something, now. Maybe a tree would be enough. I stalked forward, feeling the ground get soft under my feet as I walked under the canopy of trees, the light from the moon growing dimmer behind me.

    "Where's a good tree to punch," I muttered, squinting in the darkness. It was slightly hard to see, but I found a damp, half dead, rotting tree a few feet away from where I'd started looking. "Here it is."

    I hauled off and started pounding away, ignoring the sharp spikes of pain in my knuckles as I hit the wood, finding satisfaction in the splintering and creaking of the tree as my punches chipped away at it. In the distance, I heard a revving motor stop and the sound of a voice close by, but it didn't matter.

    My teeth were clenched and my muscles were tight and my head was buzzing but my eyes stayed on the tree. I could see the shovel lifting and falling on my father's throat in my mind, over and over again as I slammed my knuckles into the wood, completely in sync. My eyes burned and I let out an angry, pained yell, my fists raining down harder and faster.

    A hand landed on my arm, yanking me back, but I couldn't think and I swung at the figure in the darkness, catching them in the jaw, and suddenly I was on the ground, on top of the person, my hands around their throat, pressing down with all my might.

    "This is what you did to him," I hissed, feeling the body struggle under me. "This is what you did, and now you get it too."

    "Wait...wait!" the body rasped underneath me, hands clutching my arms, squeezing tight. "It's me - Sterling!"

    I blinked, my rage quickly dissipating. My hold on his throat relaxed, and he coughed loudly, his body spasming as I sat back against his pelvis. My eyes wandered from the marks I'd left on his neck to the blood oozing from my knuckles. I unclenched them, hissing slightly at the pain that shot through my nerves.

    Then I looked back down at Sterling, feeling my body sway, so I braced myself with a hand on the ground. "What...why are you here?"

    He blinked up at me, rubbing his neck with one of his hands. "Why the hell did you attack me like that? Who was I in your head?" He glanced over at the tree I was hitting before. There was a considerable dent in it, and wood chips around on the grass. He looked back at me. "What'd the tree do to you?"

    I lifted my leg, swinging my body off of Sterlings, landing on my knees on the ground. My hands braced my body from collapsing, and I stared at the shadowy grass as my mind swirled around. "My dad. I thought you were my dad."

    There was a moment of silence as Sterling sat up, and I could feel him watching me, his eyes boring into the back of my head. "The dead guy, right?"

    I nodded, chuckling a bit. "Ahhh...shit. Is your face okay?"

    "You hit me hard," he said. "I'm surprised I didn't pass out."

    The realization that I could've killed him passed through my mind, and I swallowed. I was totally blinded by the alcohol and my unchained desires. I could've killed my friend.

    This couldn't happen again. I needed to do something about this, asap.

    I stood up slowly, and staggered, but Sterling was on his feet to help me. His hands grasped my wrist and shoulder, holding me steady.

    "I'm good, I'm good..." I muttered, blinking slowly.

    Sterling scoffed, threw my arm over his shoulder, and turned us in the direction of the road. "You're an idiot."

    I smirked, staggering along at his slow pace. We emerged from the forest, and I glanced at his truck, then at my motorcycle on its side.

    "Help me get your bike into my truck," Sterling said, walking over to it and lifting it up.

    No way.

    "No, I can ride home on my own," I said, waving my hand.

    Sterling stared at me. "You're sad and drunk, I can't let you do that."

    "Sad?" I asked. "Forget it. I'm not helping you, so just leave it. I'll go when I'm sober."

    "Fine," Sterling said, kicking out the stand for the motorcycle and leaning it against it. "I'll wait with you." He walked over to the truck and pulled the tailgate down, hopping onto it. "Get up here," he said, patting it.

    I sighed, glancing at my motorcycle forlornly. My plan had failed. Then I walked over to the tailgate and clambered onto it, leaning back until I was lying all the way down and stared up at the sky as Sterling joined me, his shoulder grazing against mine.

    The sky was bright with stars. Wisps of clouds were scattered around, floating high above us. The earth was quiet except for the sounds of distant traffic and chirping insects in the forest. My mind felt like a puddle, melting into the hard truck bed underneath me, my eyelids fluttering and my body relaxing next to my friend in the comfortable silence.

    The thoughts were finally leaving me alone.