White Crystals And Love Affairs

Chapter eight

Leo’s POV third person

‘What's your address? I want to come have coffee.’ That was the text he received from his partner in El Salvador that made him leave so suddenly. Not only was it such a weird text, but why would he text him so late? Why would he want to come do drugs with him? They only sold to each other. That was it. This, it was not normal.

He had no idea where he was going but he had to leave the house. He packed his bag, mostly just money and every piece of incriminating information he could find. He didn't bother with spare clothes, he could buy some later.

The confrontation with Heather scared him. He knew she wouldn't tell anyone, but the thought of the FBI breaking down his doors and tearing them all out of their home, it terrified him. They wouldn't last in prison. They didn't deserve to go down because of him. Just because he was a piece of shit with needy issues shouldn't mean they gotta get locked up for helping him out. “Sure, Heather was basically the pimp of the prostitution ring. But, she did it for me, yanno?” He found himself talking to no one as he made sure the hotel door was locked for the eighteenth time that hour. “It's not their fault. It's not my fault! I had no other choice, I had to survive, am I fucking practicing my testimony?”

He hated when his paranoia got like this. It only happened about two other times, once when Ryan died, and again when he had Heather buying hookers down in California. He almost killed someone the first time.

So he sat down on the hotel couch and took out a joint from his front shirt pocket, bringing out his lighter. He stopped and almost slapped himself. “They're gonna smell it, you fucking idiot.” He muttered and went to the bathroom to flush it. God, he needed to calm down.

He ordered up some strong alcohol and got raging drunk. It was the only legal and reasonable thing to do in a situation like this. He couldn't do a bit of heroin, how would he get rid of the needle? He had a bad habit of falling asleep with his arm still tied up, the spoon sitting on his lap. That wouldn't look good.

“Thanks, here's a tip.” Leo said from the crack in the door, handing the woman a hundred. ‘Oh you fucking idiot! That's not suspicious!’ He cursed himself but stopped cold in his tracks when his eyes locked with hers. ‘Is that fucking Whitney?’

She seemed to recognize him too. “Oh my god, Leonardo?” She gasped as she stuffed the bill in her pocket. “It's you, isn't it? I recognize those blue eyes anywhere! How are you?”

“No, I think you have me mistaken.” He tried to close the door but she stuck her foot in the crack. ‘Fucking break it, crush her foot.’

“You've grown a beard too, huh? What's with the hefty tip?” She somehow managed to push herself in. She seemed to have gone downhill. She wasn't the pretty girl he used to know. Her hair had thinned and she had dark circles under her eyes that she tried desperately to cover up with makeup that didn't fit her skin tone.

“Uh, I handed you the wrong bill. Listen I'm really tired, I'd like to go to bed.” It was ten AM. What a shitty excuse. Leo was sweating, nervous as hell. What if the cops were on his tail, they came here and asked for a Leonardo DiCaprio? Whitney knew he was here.

“Oh don't be silly. What's wrong? You still sour over high school drama?” She hit a nerve there. What did she even want? Why was she here? The memories crashed down on him and he gritted his teeth, trying not to freak out. He was stressed enough as it was. If only he wasn't paranoid. He could have this situation handled quickly.

“No, Whitney. I don't hold grudges.” He sighed, starting to lose patience. “Can you please leave?”

“Oh, come on Leonardo, I want to catch up!” Her annoying voice was grating into his skull. It was as if she wanted to torture him again, or she really wanted to get into his pants. And he doubted she wanted to fuck him. “Do you smoke? My shifts over soon, I can come up, we can smoke a joint, you know.” Or maybe she did.

“Damnit, Whitney! Get the fuck out of my room! I don't wanna smoke a goddamn joint with you!” He finally lost his temper, slamming his hand against the wall. She took the hint and left quickly, not even noticing she dropped her tip.

Leo tool that as his cue and left.

It was hard that day, trying to forget those awful memories and the feelings they brought up. He managed to get a place a few hours away, a real shabby motel. He didn't care anymore about class. He just wanted to be alone so he could think.

Later that night he found himself walking to a bar, planning on buying an expensive bottle of scotch. He needed to unwind and he already drank the wine that Whitney brought him. He normally wasn't a day drinker but fuck he was stressed.

Halfway there he was thrown into an alley and he thanked Felix for reminding him to take a few guns. He had a glock in his waistband, but the crook was too quick. He pinned him down and searched him for a wallet, disappointed to only find a few hundreds. The stress built up, and long story short, Leo ended up bashing the guys head in with the clip to his gun. He didn't want to draw attention to himself by firing the gun, so the option seemed pretty simple. It was disgusting bloody, and he decided to just go back to the hotel.

When he laid in bed, still coated in blood, disgusted with himself for finding joy in the horrendous act he'd only committed three times before, he found himself wanting to hold his girls more than anything. He wanted to be back home, laid up in his soft bed, his girls curled up next to him and tons of downers in his system.

It's safe to say Leo slept horrible.