Drugs & Dior

Chapter 4

Damon

I'm in my apartment.

I don't know what time it is, don't know when the race is taking place, or where, I can't remember how old I am, what day of the week it is.

I feel numb. A feeling I'm getting scarily addicted to, but I don't care. Let me get addicted, who cares? When I'm numb I'm free. Free from the feeling of panic, free from the feeling of constant lust.

My phone rings. The sound pierces my ears and takes me out of the relaxed, feelingless state I was in. I grown as I pull myself into a sitting position to answer the phone. I'm on my couch, staring out the huge window overlooking the city.

"What?" Is how I answer the phone. I don't hide that I'm annoyed.

"Well, hello to you too," Eli says sarcastically from the other end. I punch the bridge of my nose.

"What do you want, Eli?" I ask, annoyance lacing my tone like venom.

"The race starts in half an hour, are you ready?" He asks. "I know how you
are—"

"No," I say, interrupting him from ranting about whatever he was about to rant about. "You don't. You don't know me, you don't know how I am. Leave me alone. I'll be at the race when I'm at the race." I hang up before he can respond.

I'm still as drunk as I could possibly be as I make my way to the lobby to get my car. Once I'm in the lobby, the doorman tries to make small talk but I shut him down. A person drives my car to the front and I take the keys before getting in without thanking him.

I take the backroads and speed to get there faster. The car I have isn't the one I'm racing. I'm racing a car Eli will be bringing to the race. A car we've been working on for months. It's speed, look, and style is enhanced.

I have no doubts I will win this race.

Pulling up, a huge swarm of people swarm my car and I can't get out until my pit crew forces a path by splitting the crowd for me to walk through.

"Late, as usual," Eli greats, patting my shoulder with a heavy hand.

"F*ck off," I respond. My head is pounding and I can already feel the effects of the alcohol wearing off. Now I have to face these morons sober.

"Whoah, someone's touchy." I don't respond and he takes the opportunity to keep talking. "You ready for the race?" He asks. "You haven't been on the training track in weeks."

"I'm ready," I groan. "Stop hounding me about it, your giving me a headache." I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Eli looks at me with a horrified look on his face. "Have you been drinking?" He whisper yells in my ear. "On a race day!?"

"No," I say in a rude tone. "Now stop bothering me abou—"

"You can't race," he says sternly. "It's dangerous and—"

In one motion, I'm in his face with a fistful of his shirt. "Tell me what I can't do again," I say. "And you'll never touch my cars again." Then I let go of him and walk away to cool off.

"The race starts in ten," Eli calls after me. "Eat some bread or something."

"F*ck off," I say, throwing up my middle finger as I'm walking away. I feel a buzzing in my pocket and groan. I can't be left alone for one minute.