The Guidebook To Sobriety

Chapter 5

A loud tapping sound stirred me from my sleep, slowly transitioning into thunderous blows as if the police were trying to break down the door with a battering ram.

I groaned as I rolled out of the bed, trying to come up with a reason I would be in enough trouble to have someone prepared to break down the damn door.

I half considered looking for some makeshift weapon to fend off the person if it was a robber before remembering I was smack in the middle of the woods. No likely robber here but a raccoon who I imagined would have a hard time imitating the sound of gunshots on my door.

The sound resuming broke me out of my idle thoughts. "I'm coming, dammit!" I all but screamed. The nap had worn off any remnants of my high, leaving me frustrated and ready to kill whoever was behind the damn door.

I swung the door open with that exact thought in mind, my scowl betraying my sinister thoughts.

Of course, Atlas stood on the other side of the door, sucking on a lollipop cheerfully. "You should see your face right now," he said with a broad smile. "You look super pissed off." 

I contemplated slamming the door in the idiot's face. There were a lot of pros to that decision, but ultimately, having someone who seemed to think of me as a friend was needed in a place like this. I knew from experience addicts could get rowdy when denied their fix so having a strong country bumpkin at my side was advantageous.

Especially considering my well-known wealth might make me a target. I was a bit paranoid, I know; call it the effects of living in LA for most of your life.

"I wonder why," I answered finally, rubbing groggily at my eyes. "Who taught you how to knock? Mike Tyson?"

Atlas shrugged, unbothered by my annoyance. "I got heavy hands man, nothing I can do about it."

"Is not using them on my door an option?"

"Anyway," he said, blatantly ignoring my complaint. "It's dinner time. I figured you may not have eaten today so I came to grab you."

He had a point. It had been an erratic day and the only fuel my stomach had attained were a few pills and beer. Even I had to admit that wasn't sustainable. Not with the lack of variety in the pills anyway.

"Alright, I'll go freshen up," I announced, spinning around and leaving the door open for him.

"I have to say," he started as I splashed water on my face in the small excuse for a bathroom. "You keep being made out to be this big celeb, and that makes you the first one I've met and now that I'm in your bedroom I have to say, it looks pretty normal to me."

I laughed humorlessly. "You should see my cabin; it's only slightly less depressing than here. Also, I'm not a celeb. My mother is. I just have some popularity from being associated with her by blood," I paused, thinking, "Well, perhaps it's notoriety now."

I threw on a hoodie considering it was now nighttime and it was bound to be cold --being in the middle of the woods and all. It can't just be me thinking how absurd this whole woods thing is right?

Right?

"Don't you have a hoodie or something?" I asked Atlas. He still wore his bright red T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, which looked even dumber at night. 

"I don't have one. I didn't think the nights here would be this cold."

"So much for being an ornithologist who's aware how the wilderness works," I commented with a snicker. 

He frowned. "Speaking of, do you think that girl believed us?"

"That was basic information that you didn't know so you certainly can't be winning any bird watcher credibility right about now. I'm not sure that practical and theoretical crap even exists either. Perhaps your clothes did make her think you were some caveman who never learned how to dress properly and she's into that."