Raw, стр. 43
“So what you’re saying is that he just stopped calling?”
Well, technically, Twitch doesn’t call, but… “Yeah. That’s about right,” I tell Nikki.
Dave looks over at me through sad eyes. “Maybe you should call him. He could just be busy.”
Rolling my eyes, I state, “You don’t even like him! Why are you sticking up for him?”
Dave places his hands up in an I surrender gesture, “I may not like him, but I know you do, which means he’s gotta have some redeeming qualities or you wouldn’t want him.”
Does Twitch have any redeeming qualities? I’ll have to ponder this question later.
Nikki asks, “You don’t think he’s just giving you some time to yourself after getting sick at his place? Maybe he thinks you’re embarrassed about it and will come to him when you’re ready.”
Yeah. That’s right. I’m officially a lying sack of shit.
I couldn’t tell my friends that I had willingly taken drugs. They’d be so disappointed in me. Dave and Nikki aren’t against the use of drugs, but they know what I do for a living. They know what happens if I take drugs. They know…they know I’ll lose my job.
And tomorrow it’ll all come out.
But I’ll wait until then.
Throwing some potato chips into my mouth, I chew loudly, sigh, then let out a garbled, “Life sucks.”
The woman who swabbed my inner cheek was young and plump, with short black hair and tattoos.
Tattoos that immediately reminded me of a certain someone I’d rather not think about.
She said, “You can wait here for the results,” as she went to process my positive result.
Unable to sit there knowing what would be happening in a few minutes, I all but ran back to my office, and flustered, began looking through my drawers.
So here I am, waiting for someone to knock at the door and tell me my inevitable fate.
The knock sounds and I jump.
“Come in,” I call out weakly.
Charlie strides into my office with a white sheet of paper in his hands. Placing the paper on my desk, he glares at me. “Results are in.”
Oh shit. This is it.
Confusion washes over me as his face breaks out into a huge smile, then winks, “Passed. As per usual.”
The office door shuts behind him. I stare at it dumbfounded. I don’t understand. I was preparing to lose my job.
Maybe they made a mistake.
How could they? There’s very little mistake margin in those tests.
It had to have been a mistake. A happy mistake.
I still don’t understand.
What just happened?
My phone pings, scaring the life out of me.
Blinking, I look down at the display and my heart races.
Twitch: You’re welcome.
Oh.
That’s what happened.
Not a second passes when my phone pings a second time.
And this message makes my heart stop.
Twitch: For the record…you owe me, Angel.
I have no idea what that means, but I know this is not a good thing.
Sitting in complete silence, my chest aches.
What have I gotten myself into?
Going cold turkey when you’re trying to break an addiction can be painful. More like excruciating.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen Lexi. And I’m starting to sweat.
I don’t like it.
I don’t like the hold she has on me. I don’t like how affected I am by not seeing her.
You could call my avoidance of her a test of sorts.
I needed to know how deeply I’m rooted into this…this…would you call what we have a relationship?
Personally, I’d call it give and take.
She gives and I take.
Watching her on the sly is driving me crazy. The stupid woman went to work the day after she left my bed sick. A day. I had to watch from a distance as she slowly walked up the steps to the building, hands shaking, weak posture, and pale-faced.
I could’ve spanked her ass for that.
There’s something about a strong woman, though. Something that makes you watch her with pride.
Lexi lets nothing stand in her way.
Making a few calls to the right people, and finding out her mandatory drug test would be happening sooner than I thought, I knew I had to get involved.
Paying off the testee to swab her own mouth and replace Lexi’s with it was easier than I thought. Well worth the five hundred big ones.
Just like any addiction, my excuse to use again was too strong to fight. Lexi being the addiction, I text her. As soon as I did, I set my phone down on my desk and closed my eyes tight.
It was official.
I was never letting her go.
Walking over to the storage cupboard to get myself another printer cartridge, I stop dead in my tracks when I hear muffled talking coming from the inside.
My brow furrows. I step closer to listen in.
“Was this your first time?” Ling.
No answer.
She pries, “It’s okay if it was. You did great.”
Then, “It wasn’t my first time.” Michael. He says this much too defensively.
My rage spikes.
Ling starts, “Mickey, baby, it’s not a big deal. Really, it’s—”
The door opens and I’m met with Michael’s mussed hair and half-unbuttoned shirt.
I’m furious.
“Get back to work, knucklehead!” Michael jumps to attention.
Eyeing an annoyed Ling, I keep a threat in my voice when I point my finger at her and say, “You and I are going to talk about this.”
Walking away from the enraging scene, I hear Michael follow close behind. He stutters, “B-b-but you haven’t given me anything to do yet.” He quickly adds, “Sir.”
As we approach my office, I realize I’m not angry anymore. Just tired. I ask, “You need me to tell you what to do? Get a pen and notebook from the cupboard, just there.” I point to the left side of the room and he scuttles over there, trying to be quick as he can.
Sitting myself down at my desk, I watch him approach wide-eyed and I state, “Number one on your not to do list...”
His face bunches and he questions, “Not to do list?”
Ignoring him, I play with the letter opener that usually resides on my desk, “Number one: Do not have sex with Ling.”
Finally looking up at him, I watch his face flame. He explains quietly, “Sh-she said you’d be angry if I didn’t.”
Oh man. I want to punish her for manipulating this kid the way she has. No doubt he was a virgin too. She really is a sick fuck.
Not that I can talk.
The look on my face must convey my thought about Ling at this moment because Michael panics, “Is she in trouble?”
Disregarding him, I state, “Number two on your not to do list: Do not piss me off.”
But he remains focused on Ling. “You won’t…” He swallows hard. “You won’t hurt her, right?”
Scoffing, I lift my hand high and bring down the letter opener down to my desk with a dull thud. The dagger stands upright, piercing my monstrosity of a desk and I point at him, giving my final instruction. “Number three on your not do to list: Do not – and I mean ever, Michael – do not ever question me.”