Paparazzi Boy

8. Just Enough

"When did he find out?" John Sun asked, looking down. It was like he couldn't make eye contact with her.

"Found out what?"

He gave her a knowing look - a look that said she should know exactly what he was referring to. She gave a scoffed laugh, barely a blow through her nose. "That you were using, Belle. That's what started this, right? That's why you ended up-"

"About a month into the tour. He caught me right before a show. I-" She was finding it hard to find the right words. "I was stressed and it's hard to focus on the things you enjoy when you're so aggravated by something you can't even control anymore, after so much time."

"So about a month into tour?"

She nodded, squeezing her hands together, "A month. A lonely month surrounded by people. It still doesn't make sense."

*   *   *

The opal streaks coloring her tin can became more vivid and alive as she waited for the feeling to settle. It was usually a fog, a tingle that she would get before she decided she was good enough to go out and enjoy the rest of the night. But the feeling wasn't coming, the tingle wasn't settling at her fingertips and she wasn't feeling the rush of no longer being sober.

She rubbed her eyes and waited a minute. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

She shook her head and pulled out the second tin can inside her make up bag, bright blue as it stared back at her. She popped open the cap and stared at the fine white powder. It had been awhile since she had taken a hit because usually the pills were enough, but the last few days, the euphoria of it came too late and left too quickly. She needed something that would keep her up until the end of the show that was starting in an hour. Everyone was waiting for her in the dressing room to get ready but she needed just a few more minutes in her trailer.

Shaking the can, she poured some of the powder onto the counter in the bathroom and split it into two sections with a sharp razor she kept next to her beauty supply. Just enough to get through the night. Enough to help ease out the anxiety she was feeling.

There was always contemplation rather than just being able to jump right into it. It was like reassurance that this is what she wanted, like she needed her own approval each time. She always found herself saying no, but couldn't stop her hands from reaching out.

She bent down and inhaled, the surge of jubilation hitting her only seconds later. Once more, she bent down and breathed in, shaking her head because the rush was reaching behind her eyes.

"Belle?"