TO HAVE & HAVE NOT

54

Johnny

I wasn't sure how much time had passed since I had last seen Olivia. Maybe an hour. In the haze of the dazzling after-party and the relentless swirl of laughter, music, and bright lights, I felt a growing pit of concern for her well-being. Ever since we had arrived at this extravagant Oscar's after-party, something had changed within her. Olivia was not herself; she had transformed into a shadow of the vibrant, lively person I knew.

My eyes darted around the crowded room, scanning every face in hope of finding her familiar smile. Yet through the pulsating energy of the crowd, I couldn't spot her. Sighing, I made my way over to Finn, who was leaning against a bar, clearly intoxicated. I gently tapped his shoulder to grab his attention. He spun around to face me, visibly swept away in his drunken haze.

"Johnny! Yo, did I tell you guys that Johnny is actually my friend? Like, the Johnny Depp!" he exclaimed, throwing an arm around my shoulders with a lopsided grin that wavered from side to side. I chuckled lightly, temporarily distracted by his exuberance, and wrapped an arm around his waist not for camaraderie, but to keep him from toppling over, as he had begun to sway dangerously.

"Finn, I was actually wondering if you'd seen Olivia," I asked, my voice tinged with urgency.

"Olivia?" he echoed, his brow furrowing as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, peering around the room with confusion etched across his face. "Olivia? I think she might be outside still," he finally replied, gesturing vaguely toward the exit.

"Thanks, Finn," I responded, pulling away from his loose grip as I made my way through the partygoers. As I navigated through the crowd, I was stopped a dozen times by party enthusiasts eager to share their excitement, but I only had one goal: to find Olivia and ensure she was okay.

Once I finally stepped outside, the cool night air startled my senses, and my eyes instantly fell on the familiar shape of Olivia slumped on a couch. My heart sank at the sight; she looked decidedly out of it, her usually bright demeanor muted to a shadow of its former self. It was all too clear that she had indulged excessively in both alcohol and, perhaps, something more dangerous. I felt a wave of anxiety crash over me as I saw her lean forward, preparing to snort a line of white powder resting on the counter nearby.

Without a moment's hesitation, I rushed forward, gripping her shoulder and pulling her back toward me. My eyebrows knitted together in concern and my gaze narrowed in disapproval. "Olivia, what are you doing?" I questioned, trying to penetrate the fog that surrounded her mind.

"What? It's just this once," she slurred, the words barely coherent, revealing just how far gone she really was.

"No. This isn't a good idea," I insisted, searching her bleary eyes for a sign of the Olivia I knew—the spirited woman who could light up any room she entered. In that moment, I realized with a heavy heart that she was already high; the spark of life I adored had been replaced by a vacant expression, as if she were a shell of her former self.

"Yes, it is!" she declared excitedly, her eyes glinting with an unsettling fervor.

"Olivia, I don't like this," I said, voice firm yet pleading. All I wanted was for her to snap out of this reckless mindset, to recognize the danger she was inviting into her life. But it was evident that she was too far gone to understand.

"I need it, Johnny, you don't understand," she begged, her voice laced with desperation, pushing against my grip as if to emphasize the importance of her next move.

"Olivia, please," I implored, hoping she could hear my concern, my fear for her safety.

"Sorry, just this once," she said defiantly, leaning forward. Before I could object further, the line of powder was already disappearing up her nose, and in that gut-wrenching moment, I knew I had to act. The night had taken a dark turn, and I feared for her life.