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Mikel woke several hours later, rested. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t had a nightmare in his sleep. It was flashbacks or nothing. He never dreamt.
He picked up his phone—seven in the evening. He needed to get some dinner and then head over to Isaiah’s. He clicked Remy’s message open, finally having something to answer her with.
Mikel: Stargazing. I built a crappy telescope and tried to find the Phoenix.
He set down his phone and jumped in the shower to get ready. He checked it one more time before he got in his car.
Remy: Did you ever find it?
When Bently hadn’t been home, their father, Paul, would take his rage out on him. Mikel had been a willing sacrifice if it meant keeping that bastard away from Jasmine. He had closed his eyes and imagined he was looking up at a sky that mapped out the stories of Greek tragedies and made his family seem a little more normal. Some had given him hope that there were at least a few happy endings—like the Phoenix. But even in that story, inspiration had been born from the ashes of pain and grief.
Mikel: Nope.
* * *
He didn’t bother to knock at Isaiah’s. He walked into the house, past the neatly organized recycling bin full of beer cans and glass bottles. The rooms were clean and modern. Several people were spread throughout the place, their stoned, glassy-eyed faces smiling as they rocked to the beat of the techno music. You would never expect the nice house in this suburban neighborhood to be a drug den. Moms, dads, husbands, wives, daughters, sons, people with different backgrounds all coming together for the same reason: to forget for a little while. To escape to a place where no one could hurt you and you were never powerless. A place of only euphoria.
Unfortunately, that high never lasted long enough. Each time, it seemed harder to get to. One pill turned into two, which turned into snorting white powder or shooting poison into your veins. Addiction was a ruthless oppressor—a dictator that ruled your thoughts and actions in selfish tyranny. It morphed you into the worst version of yourself while tricking you into believing you were at your best. Until nothing mattered anymore, except that high. Your next fix became your sole purpose of living, your constant focus.
Mikel didn’t see himself as an addict. In fact, he felt sorry for all these people. He wasn’t like them. He could stop if he really wanted to. He just didn’t want to yet.
“Mikel! You finally made it, man,” Isaiah said walking up to him, bottle of vodka in hand. No one bothered with pretense here.
“Yeah. You got something for me?” he asked.
“Joe sent a new shipment. He told me not to give you anything on credit though. He said you owe him.” Isaiah shifted nervously on his feet and sniffed.
He would pay it back if only he could, but fifty thousand dollars didn’t just grow on trees. And the money he’d borrowed from the loan shark wasn’t the only thing Joe had on him. “Yeah. I’ll catch up with him soon.”
Isaiah tipped his head so that others couldn’t hear when he spoke. “Don’t know what business you got with him, man. None of my concern. But Joe ain’t the kinda guy you want to owe anything to. Whatever you gotta do to pay him, you better do it.”
Too late. Mikel nodded. “Sure thing.” If his friend only knew what the man held over him, he’d understand there was no way he’d ever be free from Joe’s clutches.
“Tell him I’ll bring him some of the money next week,” Mikel said.
“My sister’s in the kitchen. She’ll hook you up.”
“Thanks.” Mikel walked down the hall towards the lemon-yellow kitchen.
“Hey, sexy. Did you come all this way to see me?” June teased, her blond hair swinging from a high ponytail as she cocked her head to the side. Her smoky eyes raked over him like he was a prime cut of meat.
She ran her hand over his cheek and down his chest. Maybe this was what he needed. She could erase this sinking feeling if only for a fleeting moment, take his mind off what he couldn’t have. He and June were both damaged goods, both from the wrong side of the tracks. He’d sampled what she offered several times over the past few years. She was always down for a quick and dirty fuck. Sex and drugs. Highs and lows. Love for the moment, hate for himself.
“You have something I need,” he said, grabbing her hand before she slid it any farther into his pants.
She smirked. “How many?”
“The usual.”
She backed away, and he let her hand drop. “It’s upstairs in my room.” She led him towards the dimly lit stairs, and he followed behind.
She pulled a bag from the large hidden safe she kept in a closet and tossed it to him.
He caught it and slipped it into his pocket. He paid her. “Thanks.”
She turned and sauntered back to him before kissing him. Her lips were nothing like Remy’s. June’s mouth was pure empty lust. He grabbed her neck and pushed her away.
“Let me make you feel good.” She licked her bright red lips.
