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Hate, rage, pain, shame swirls inside me, forming a toxic cocktail until I vibrate with the need to stop the pain.
I grab my purse and riffle through it, desperate for anything. I dump it over, my lipstick, wallet, and tampons scattering to the floor. I glance at the empty bottle of vodka.
I cry out and scratch my nails down my face, desperate to push it all away.
I only have myself to blame. I can’t be who he needs me to be. I’m the one who pushed him away, who drags him down. And now he’s happy… with someone else.
How long until Derek gets home?
However long it is, it’ll be too long.
I rack my brain for the nearest dealer when it dawns on me that I know where Derek keeps his stash. Maybe he has something in there. I’ll pay him back. He’ll understand.
My body ricocheting from one wall to the other, I stumble to the bedroom. I drop to my knees in front of the beat-up bedside table. I pull out the bottom drawer, the one with the false bottom, and work the thing until I figure out how to access the bottom part.
When the wood lifts, my panic dissipates. He has a few rocks of heroin, along with a few needles and a baggie of weed. Weed isn’t going to cut it for me right now, and neither is the vapor. I wrap one hand around a needle, second-guessing myself. I may be a fuck-up, but I’ve managed to stay away from needles so far.
What the hell do I care? I have no one. No one truly cares what happens to me.
I snatch the needle and the heroin and stumble around the apartment, scrounging up the other instruments I need. I may be a newbie with needles, but I’ve watched enough of my friends.
The heroin is in the needle and my shirt sleeve is rolled up when the overwhelming urge to reach out to Jimmy and admit my feelings becomes too strong to ignore.
He once did the unthinkable for me. He deserves to know how I really feel before I do this and set myself on a path I’ll never be free from.
Setting the needle on the table, I turn over my phone, type in the password, and hit his number, pressing the speaker button. The call goes straight to voicemail. After the beep, I plunge the needle into my vein.
“I really did love you.”
A rush of white heat envelops my body and my eyes drift closed. I fight against the pull to get out my last few words.
“As much as I was able to.”
I slip away and lose myself to the sweet oblivion of the darkness, where nothing can hurt me.
Chapter Twenty-five
JIMMY
Our presentation at the Oscars goes well and Adelaide and I are at an after-party, sipping on drinks and making small talk with some industry insiders. They’re filling us in on some of the drama going on over at one of the big entertainment agencies in the city.
I observe how Adelaide gives each person her undivided attention. In spending time with her these past couple of months, I’ve come to realize that she has the unique ability to put people at ease and make them feel important because she grants all of her attention to whomever she’s talking to.
She catches me watching her and smiles with a blush in her cheeks. It warms her face, and without thinking, I brush my thumb over her soft skin. The man who’s speaking clears his throat, and I drop my hand.
“Sorry, gentlemen. Would you mind if I stole Adelaide for a moment?” I say to the group.
“Of course, you two young things go have fun,” one of the older executives from the studio says.
I nod my thanks and lead Adelaide away by the arm. When we reach the corner of the room, I stop her, strategically blocking us from view with a large gathering of helium balloons rising up from weights on the floor.
“You know earlier when you called me Jimmy?”
Her eyes crinkle. To her it’s probably nothing.
“To the reporter on the red carpet.”
“Oh.” She nods.
