Page 36 of Broken Warrior
I had no fucking clue Bugs had a girlfriend.
Hell, I don’t even know if this is his actual apartment let alone any other details. Not that I care, but still.
I lean forward and snort a fat line then tip my head back and close my eyes.
The dope burns, burns more than usual, but it’s also strangely smooth. The drip isn’t bad, bitter and a little metallic, but not bad. Kinda thick. Honestly, it’s... it’s... oh shit, it’s fast... acting.
My shoulders drop as I hunch forward, a tingle moving up from my toes all the way to my scalp.
“Damn...” I grunt as every muscle relaxes, a first since a certain dark angel told me she was moving on.
Tate.
Tate.
Fuck, I miss her.
I miss seeing her face whenever I want to, whenever I need to. I miss her being everywhere in my house.
I made the best of our last couple weeks together, the best I could anyway, and chose the supportive route because otherwise I would have tied her up, locked her in my room, and confessed everything to her before making her promise to never leave me.
Tate.
Having her come over to help my mother isn’t the same. Yes, I see her, but it isn’t the same. When Tate comes over she’s busy with Ma and when she’s not, she’s living a life that no longer includes me.
On the phone with Theo or thisEmberperson, talking about work or the apartment or she’s chatting with my little buddy James. If she brings him, I spend the entire time with him because I miss that kid just as much as I miss Tate, and not having them in my life is killing me faster than I thought it would.
I can’t fucking take it so I just leave when Tate gets to my house, but only if she’s alone, and ballpark when she’ll have to split to get ready for work so I’m back by then. We barely exchange words, just about whatever is going on with my mother or her son. Outside of that, I ask her nothing and tell her even less.
I’m an asshole to the only woman I have ever had real, genuine feelings for and I hate myself for it.
It’s better this way, though.
Tate is better off without me.
With a rough exhale, I lean forward again and snort the other line, breathe that shit in deep until I’m numb.
“Pretty good, huh?”
I nod, wipe my nose, then press a finger to either side and try to get whatever is left in my nostrils. “How soon can you get more?”
“After work.” Bugs grabs his wallet and keys. “You should come with me.”
“I don’t... don’t run drugs... fucker.”
He laughs. “I meant to work.”
My entire body sags against the back of the couch and my eyes start to slide shut. “Don’t need a... fucking job...”
“Dude—” Bugs laughs again. “I don’t mean to actually work, I mean to let off steam.”
And because I’m stoned, I take the bait. “Where?”
“The Dollhouse.”
“You work... at a toy store?” That’s kinda cool I guess. I could buy something for James. Maybe get him a Lego set we could build together. Maybe I’ll get him so many he’ll never want to leave my house. Yeah, I could go to a toy store.
“It’s a strip club. You never heard of it?”
