The Trouble with Loving a Milkovich Part 4

Kenyatta vs. Ian

The smell of spaghetti fills the house as Collin and I are separating drugs into baggies. Kenyatta, bruised from the night before, sits at the kitchen table, icing his knees as Mandy scampers around the kitchen. Tensions are high and its suffocating. The front door opens and Mickey and Ian come in. "Work it out with an AR-15 to his fucking head!" Mickey is shouting. He pauses, seeing the scene in the kitchen. "What the fuck is this?!" he looks from his sister to the damaged man at the table. Jerking my head, I motion for Collin to follow me to the room. Mickey and Mandy continue to go back and forth. Rifling thru the dresser drawers, I find my gun. As soon as I turn around, theres a scuffle and a clatter. Exchanging a brief glance, Collin and I book it out the bedroom and to the kitchen. Once there, we see Kenyatta standing and Ian holding a knife to his throat. Mandy is frozen at the stove top and Mickey is telling Ian that everything is okay. Snapping out of whatever state he's in, Ian looks to the knife in his hands, lowers it, and follows Mickey's instructions to leave. Hastily, they retreat out the front door. Collin immediately checks on his little sister, and I follow the two out the front. Standing by the chain link fence, I hear Mickey asking Ian what the fuck is going on. "You good?" I call, receiving a look from from Mickey that conveys how overwhelmed he is by the situation. "No, hes not fucking good," Mickey tells me, then turns back to Ian and asks him of hes on meth. Adrenaline rushing all the blood to my ears, I see Ian pick ily the phone and decide to go back inside; Mickey seems to have a handle on the situation. Back in the house, I hear Kenyatta and Collin going tit for tat. "And don't think I couldnt smell the fucking garlic and grease coming off those mother fuckers!" Kenyatta yells from the table, his finger pointed accusingly at Collin. "HEY!" I shout, bounding over to them. "You get your fucking hand outta my husbands face!" Gun pointed directly at his face, I put my finger to the trigger. Slowly, defiantly, Kenyatta lowers his finger. Still looking at Collin, he says, "You know, one of these days, your trailer trash dago of a wife isn't gonna be around to save you. And when that day comes," he let's out a low whistle. "I cant fucking wait." Collin takes the butt of his gun and bashes the bridge of Kenyatta's nose. Running to Mandy, I grab her by the arm. "Let's GO!" I scream, dragging her from the kitchen. "The stove-" she begins, but I reach over, turn off the flame, and grab the handle of the metal pan to move it. "FUCK!" I shriek, the metal searing the flesh on the palm of my hand. Numb from the shock, I continue to pull Mandy, her body limply following as she stops struggling. Collin already has the front door open for us. Nearly slipping down the steps, we get to the pathway and run to the car. Mandy and I clamber into the back as Collin heads to the drivers seat. The tires squeal as he throws it into drive and lays his foot on the gas pedal.

We park in the lot of the liquor store. Killing the engine, Collin turns down the radio and turns back to face us. "You alright?" his hand reaches out to Mandy but she withdraws hers. "I want a line," she demands, her jaw set and her voice unwavering. Quickly, Collin and I look to each but before we cam say anything, Mandy says, "Cut the bullshit. We all know you're back on it. Sleeping all the time, holed up in the bedroom, never fucking showering." Her words sting, and neither of us is able to make up an excuse. "If you dont give it to me," she continues. "Someone else will. And they're gonna be on Kenyatta's runner, who'll probably lace the shit." Exhaling, I shake my head in frustration. Collin turns back around and faces the steering wheel. Guilt surrounds me and my own brain is fiending for a hit. Unable to think of a valid reason, I wave my hand in the air. "Fuck it," I tell no one in particular. Collin just looks ate outta the corner of his eye. "We want more for you," he starts, but Mandy unleashes a humorless laugh. "Well, that sorts got shot the minute I was born a Milkovich!" Scratching this back of his neck, Collin pauses, then reaches for the glove compartment. He sets to setting up lines and I light up a cigarette and stare out the window. The atmosphere in the car is one of great expectation. Hands shaking, I throw the half finished cigarette out the window and listen as Collin snorts his line. Handing it to me, I hand it to Mandy. "Gonna make sure you're good before I get too high," I explain. Mandy nods and takes the shortest line. As the drug hits her system, her head falls to the back of the seat. Taking it back from her, I shove the straw up my nostril and inhale as tho my life depends on it. My eyelids droop and k hear Mandy say, "So this is why you guys do this." Too high to feel uncomfortable, I just hang my head. "It numbs everything," I tell her. "Good and bad." Collin clears his throat. "It'll kill you. And I'll honestly wanna kill myself for this once o come down." As soon as he says this, Mandy opens the car door and pukes. Pulling herself back in, I nod. "That'll happen." A sick look on her face, she curls up into the seat, dry heaves, then turns to puke again. "This stopped being fun," she whimpers. Collin. "That's weve been saying."