Addicted to You (Devils Right Hand MC #3)

Chapter 1

Gabby's POV

"Please, just a couple more weeks, I promise I'll get you your money," I beg the person on the other end of this cheap ass burner phone.

"Ms. Wilison, we have already given you all the grace we can. You have to pay the full balance of four hundred dollars by next Friday or you will be evicted," the heartless bitch replies.

Four hundred dollars? Where the hell am I supposed to get four hundred dollars when nobody will hire me? I mean, I don't blame them. Nobody wants an ex-con recovering drug addict on their payroll and honestly, neither would I.

"Okay, thanks anyway," I whisper into the phone as I quickly hang up and toss it onto the bed. Tears well in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall as I look around my piece of shit apartment. It's a small room, with a bed, a dining room table, and a small kitchenette, but it's in a much better part of town than I was raised in. It's far enough from the drug dens to be safe, but close enough that this piece of shit doesn't cost me an arm and a leg. Well, right now four hundred dollars might as well be an arm and a leg.

When you are on the street, everybody begs you to get out. People stand on a corner yelling about how Jesus loves us and then say we are going to hell in the same breath. Others take a wrong turn and pass us on the streets, staring at us with judgment in their eyes. Everybody wants you to get out, they say life will be so much better when you do, but nobody talks about how hard it is, especially when you can't resort to the only coping skill you've ever had.

With a deep sigh, I pick up my cheap pay-by-the-minute cell phone and dial the only number I have saved in it. The line rings with static in the background as I hit it a few times to get the static to stop.

"Hello?" A gruff voice answers. Cursing, I look at the clock and realize it's only 8 in the morning, I should've waited to call him.

"Shit, I'm sorry Hank, I didn't realize how early it was," I apologize.

"Don't be sorry, I'm your sponsor, it's what I'm here for," he says as the sleep clears from his voice.

This is how the program works, Gabriella. You have to work the program if you want to succeed.

"Look, I'm not even sure there's anything you can do, but I'm freaking out and I-I don't know what to do. I've never had problems like this before. I mean I've had problems before but not-"

"Gabby, breathe," he instructors and I try to take a deep breath. "Now, tell me what's going on, we'll take this one step at a time."

"My landlord said I have until the end of next week to give her the four-hundred dollars I owe in rent or she'll evict me. If I get evicted, I'll end up on the street again, and if I end up on the street again...." I let my sentence hang in the air because we both know what will happen.

"No, don't even think like that. It's been almost six months, Gab. A month since you've been out of the sober living facility. You are not shitting away all of that hard work over something as trivial as money."

"Money isn't trivial when you don't have any of it," I scoff.

"Job hunting isn't going well?"

"Huh, as soon as they see my record they run faster than a mistress when the wife comes home," I scoff.

"You and your metaphors," he laughs which breaks the tension a little but then a silence falls on the line. "Look, I can loan you the four hundred you need. You can just pay me back when you get a job, and you WILL get a job soon, I can feel it."

"No, no, Hank I can't let you do that."

"Listen to me, I can help you, so let me help you. It's okay to take help when you need it."