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Razor snickers again in that sarcastic manner. “Sure, I don’t. This isn’t the fuckin’ answer. This is gonna kill you. Are you so dead set on dying? Is that it? Huh?”
My heart races and my mind is clouded with the perfect combination of fear, frustration, and sadness.
I don’t want to hear his warnings or advice.
All I want is to escape the bullshit swarming around in my head.
I want a release: to feel something other than pain and anger.
I clench my jaw and swallow hard. “I need to go.”
Starting to walk past him, I increase my pace, but an iron-clad grip goes around my wrist.
Razor tugs me back and yanks me against his chest.
He grabs onto the side of my neck and looks at me harshly, yet there’s a layer of concern. “You are too good to let that shit take you down. I might not be able to convince you to quit, but I have to say that to you.”
He releases me and I blink at him a few times, processing what he’s said.
With venom in my tone, I do all I can to push him away. “You can’t save me, Razor.”
I walk away, not daring to look back, as I slip the baggie of coke into my pocket and head down the alleyway toward my car.
In a way, I know Razor’s right.
If I don’t stop this, I could take too much, and it just might kill me.
Everyone is cutting to make their shit last longer, give them a higher profit, and who knows why else.
I know the risks are there, but it doesn’t scare me.
Cocaine is the only thing I’ve found that’s been able to keep my demons at bay, and it works.
As I walk away, I get some amusement over the fact Razor calls me Cola.
He obviously didn’t know I do coke, so Coca-Cola is a bit funny.
I make it to my car and unlock it.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I take a deep breath.
Who knows if Razor will tell anyone I’m doing drugs, but I don’t think he will.
He might be warning me about it, but I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who would literally fuck with someone’s life like that.
One day, I’d like to get clean . . . but I don’t have to worry about that shit right now.
The only thing I need to worry about is keeping my demons at bay and somehow finding a way to make it through the day.
Starting my car up, I pull out of my parking space and drive toward the strip club.
Traffic isn’t too bad right now, which is surprising considering it’s a Friday night.
On the weekends, I can easily bring in two to four thousand dollars, especially if I’m booked for a VIP or a bachelor party. Thankfully, they all tip handsomely.
I park my car in my usual spot and head inside.
The strip club is a neon-lit haven, pulsating with the heavy beat of the bass.
