We stand there, neither of us saying anything, neither of us know exactly what to say I’m assuming. I can’t mix business and pleasure, but I’m standing here in his apartment, we just kissed. I think that’s breaking the rules.
“I could get killed for this,” I say speaking my thoughts; I say it under my breath then pull my gaze from his. I look down at the hardwood floor and pull away from him, beginning to walk towards the door again. I can’t do this, not with him, not with anyone. I couldn’t possibly be falling for him anyway, he’s a client. I can’t do that.
“Why are you leaving?” he asks harshly as my hand touches the door knob. I don’t turn around, scared of what his expression may look like, I’m terrified. “Why are you leaving?” he asks more annoyed this time, I still don’t turn around, but decide to reply.
“I-I have to go back to my house,” I say staring out the window by the door, I see his reflection in the window, he’s tense, his fists are bawled at his sides, his jaw tight. I turn around, scared of what I’m about to see. But I’ve already seen his bad side a few times by now, it’s not as intimidating.
“Do you have any coke on you?” He asks, I reach in my purse and pull out a baggie, ¾ full of the addicting white substance
“Just take a line,” Jerrod insisted I shake my head, declining him once again, sure I smoke pot like no tomorrow, I’ve done a little K2, and a bit of heroine, but doing all of that doesn’t mean I’m proud of it, “C’mon, I’ll pay for your next tat if you do it,” the mention of a new tattoo makes me happy, the thought of him paying for my next tattoo also makes me happy
“You’re paying for my next tattoo if I take a line?” I ask. He nods, lining it up once again and passing me a rolled up piece of paper. I sigh putting the rolled piece of paper to my nose. My finger presses against my other nostril as I lower my head closer to the table. The opposite side of the paper is up against the white drug. I inhale deeply; the drug burns my nose as I inhale the toxin. I pull up from the line, dropping the paper on the table and fanning my eyes.
“Shit,” I mumble, the drug still burning my nose. Jerrod laughs lightly then sticks his hand out for me. I stand up, not feeling dizzy or high whatsoever.
---
“Why did you get that anyway?” Jerrod asks talking about my new white ink hip tattoo below my first bird one. It says ‘forget’ in script.
“Because I want to forget what happened with my parents,” I tell him, and he knows not to elaborate on the subject
“So are we going to do some?” He asks rudely.
“Only if you have alcohol,” I say, I brush past him and walk into the living room, pouring a little bit on his coffee table and grabbing a credit card from my bag, I slowly cut 6 lines, 3 for each. I reach in my bag again, finding the other bag, a full bag of pot.
“What else do you have in that bag?” Reflex asks walking into the room, two bottles of alcohol in his hands. I bring my bag into my lap, looking in.
“Nothing,” I answer honestly not seeing anything in my bag except for my phone, wallet and keys. I put my bag back on the floor. Reflex sits on the floor across from me and picks up one of the rolled up pieces of paper, putting it to his nose. He inhales the white substance; his paper continues down the line and then pulls back once the white toxin is gone. He coughs a bit then looks at me, gesturing down towards the line of cocaine sitting in front of me.
“Your turn,” he says winking. I roll my eyes and grab the paper inhaling it through my nose it burns really bad.
“What is this?” I ask gesturing to the label less bottle of liquor. He shrugs, twisting the black cap off. He presses the bottle to his lips and tips it back, the dark liquid falling into his mouth. The bottle is lowered onto the table and he shrugs once again.
