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  I peek at the name on the outer screen. Damon.

  I look up into his face and see him peer down at the phone lying in the center console. His expression doesn't change.

  "You should talk to him, you know." My voice is soft, but I know he won't, no matter what I say.

  He reaches down to silence the ringer on the phone, ignoring the call, and I sigh.

  "Lex...it's your fucking–"

  "I don't wanna hear it, ok?!" he cuts me off dryly. I know better than to rag him about it, but I press on. I'm sick of his shit for today.

  "He's your fucking brother, Lex! Jesus Christ..."

  "What the fuck am I supposed to say to him?"

  "Just talk to him at least...he's your brother."

  He sighs, shaking his head. "You don't fucking get it."

  But I do. I get it completely.

  Damon is Lex's little brother. He was all of ten years old when Lex left his parent's house and promised he'd come back, and of course now Damon still doesn't understand why his big brother, his hero, hasn't come back for him, and it's been five years.

  He doesn't call often, in fact their parents eventually told Damon they would ground him if they found out he had gotten in touch with Lex after hearing about him being this big drug dealer. But there's always that one occasional phone call, and Lex knows that Damon snuck away long enough to just call on a whim, even at fifteen years old now, thinking his big brother might answer the phone and come back home.

  "It's...it's just been too long." His voice has a tone of finality in it, and I know not to speak another word about it. His family is a soft spot with him. So is mine.

  The truth is...neither of us came from fucked up families. I think that's what makes our story even more tragic. We're just two kids who had everything they wanted, but still felt like they needed more. And now, all we have is each other.

  And the drugs.

  _______________________________________________________________

  The next morning I awake slowly to the sound of sniffing. I know he's getting high, right next to me in bed.

  I groan a little as I roll around, naked and twisted in the soft sheets of his queen-sized bed, and look up at him slowly, my eyes traveling up his slim torso, taking in all the patterns and texts of his tattoos.

  He's still sniffling, running the back of his hand under his nose, pinching it between his middle finger and thumb, and sniffing again, sighing a little when it all goes down. His head is back against the headboard, eyes closed, and I look down into his lap to see the mirror, razor, and short straw. One lonely bump looks up at me, pure and white, just waiting. I want it so bad, but I'm not ready. Not yet.

  I look up into his face again and he's staring down at me through half-open lids, eyes bloodshot. He's lit already. I sigh as he reaches to stroke my blonde hair slowly, pushing it off my face and tucking a few messy strands behind my ear. The powder line just sits in his lap, waiting...

  Fuck, I'm ready now.

  I moan softly, raising myself into my elbows, and leaning over his lap. He gathers my hair and holds it back off my face as I lean down and take the straw, sniffing quickly, hating myself inside. I roll onto my back and pinch my nose, squeezing my eyes shut, sniffling again and once more until I'm breathing clear.

  He moves the mirror to the nightstand and shifts back down under the sheets, pulling me tight to his body. He loves to get spun and lay in bed with me; it's kind of a sick scene. He particularly likes to fuck after we do coke, and I figure it won't be long before he's pushing up against me, moaning, and touching me.

  I feel his hand brush my thigh under the sheets, just as I suspected. He doesn't waste much time; licking at my neck, sucking on my skin. His fingers slide from my knee to my hip, reaching between my legs as I moan softly against his shoulder.

  He rolls me onto my side to face him, drawing my leg over his hip with a cocky grin. "I want you to get wet for me," he whispers and slips two long fingers between my folds.

  I whimper and buck my hips against his hand, my pulse quickening and skin starting to tingle from the drugs. He makes me horny, but the drugs make me anxious, and I'm reaching for him, stroking him quick and swift in my hand, trying to keep things moving.

  We're both breathing hard already, pulses racing and eyes dilating from the stimulant in our blood, our bodies humming with satisfaction paired with lust as we touch each other. My skin is hot and prickling. I feel like ants are crawling all over me; not biting me, just the sensation that something is constantly racing across my skin.

  We both get turned on faster than we usually do as our sex drives kick in, right on time with the buzz of getting high. It seems like within seconds his penis is thick and solid, precum already leaking, and my pussy is drenching his fingers as he works me.

  "Give it to me how I like," he demands.

  I push him onto his back roughly with a growl, throwing a leg over his hips and immediately sinking down onto his dick, sucking him deep inside. I swear to God he's in my stomach.

  "Mmm, fuck," I moan.

  I know it's too much too fast, but I'm horny and tweaking, clenching my jaw, dragging my fingers along his stomach, making restless fists with my hands and then spreading them wide on his chest. I'm anxious. I just want to feel him inside of me, I want the friction and the stretch and every sensation that he gives me. I can never get enough...

  God, he's like a fucking drug.

  I start rocking slowly, but I build up quick as the feeling takes over me and melts into euphoria mixed with the adrenaline in my body and I can't...

  I just can't get enough.

  He's tossing his head around on the pillows, stomach muscles quivering and contracting as he's clenching the sheets and releasing them, then clenching them again.

  "This pussy belongs to me," he breathes. "Do you understand? You're mine."

  He's sliding his hands over my thighs and up to my breasts, and I feel his knees bending, shifting me forward on his lap as he digs his heels into the mattress. We're both grunting and groaning, tweaking and...damn, sex is never better than when we're on coke.

  I claw at his chest with my short nails, and I know he'll have red marks for the rest of the day. We're sweaty and sticky from the sex and drugs, our body temperatures high, our pulses racing. I almost feel like I could have a heart attack, and I can sense his heartbeat pounding through his chest into my hands as I pump his dick fast in my slick, aching pussy.

  "Shit, c'mon, Leala...fuck me."

  I roll my hips swiftly, grinding my clit down into his pelvic bone, moaning his name, screaming his name as his hips rock underneath me. He presses up farther inside of me, grunting and cursing and gripping my waist brutally.

  He stares up at me with bloodshot eyes, pupils dilated, jaw locked tight, grinding his teeth.

  "Don't you dare cum until I say you can."

  His voice is strained and throaty, and he's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.

  But it's too late...

  It hits me like a bus and I come violently, without warning, arching my back and releasing my head. I feel light-headed and dizzy, completely swept away in an instant.

  He's right behind me, back arched off the bed, heels still digging into the mattress, pulling me hard onto his lap as he empties deep inside of me and my body tingles at the warm sensation.

  And I come down.

  I crash hard, pulling off of him and collapsing onto the mattress. Am I dead? I can barely breathe.

  My body still hums from the drugs but I feel completely used up. My brain slowly turns in my head and I feel like I'm tumbling head over feet as the room spins until I can get enough breath to oxygenate my body.

  I open my eyes and see Lex's face right in front of mine, cheek pressed into the mattress, mouth agape, eyes looking at me with concern. He touches my face slowly, still gasping for air himself, and my skin is prickling under his fingers, my senses still heightened from the high I'm riding.

  "You alright?"<
br />
  I can tell his buzz has almost worn off. I just swallow hard, and nod.

  It was almost too much. It's always almost too much, but as much as it kills me, I want more. I want more of him, just like I want more of the drugs. Because once...once just doesn't cut it anymore.

  Once is never enough.

  Chapter Two

  "Well, well...Mary Jane, Snow White, and the seven addicts...how appropriate," I scoff as I shuffle out of the bedroom late that afternoon. Entering the living room, I see the couches filled with the usual suspects, the coffee table littered with blades and straws, rolling papers and plastic baggies.

  Lex, Remy, Kyle, Fabian, Bruce, Tyson, and Seth. Every last one of them hopped up and blazed out of their minds. This is when I don't like to stay at the house. I refuse to stay.

  I snatch my paper bag off of the table and drop the cash in his lap before I head straight for the door.

  "You leaving?"

  It's Lex calling out to me, head straight back and sunken into the couch, but his eyes cut over sideways, following me to the door.

  "No reason to stay here," I shrug, irritated. Sometimes he just fucking aggravates me. One minute we're in bed together, the next he's totally oblivious to me, like I'm just another junkie coming through his house.

  "You can come suck my dick." It's Bruce this time, and all of the guys giggle.

  I throw a glance at Lex, but he's too busy laughing to even notice. Everyone gets the fucking ganoobies about immature shit like that, and I can't take it.

  "Maybe if you could get it up," I say matter-of-factly and a chorus of "OOOHHHHH" fills the room; of course they're still giggling like twelve-year-old girls.

  I just walk out the door. I almost make it down the street when my cell phone rings.

  Lex.

  "What?"

  "Why'd you leave like that?" His voice is soft, but I can still hear all of the guys giggling in the background. I just sigh.

  "Cause I don't wanna sit around in the middle of a fucking tug-circle with you and six other burnouts. Not really on the agenda for today. And you know I have to go to work soon."

  "Well fuck you then...are you going to Remy's tonight?"

  "You know I don't like going to Remy's, Lex. It's a fucking filthy whore house."

  "What is your fucking problem? You know you'll be good as long as you roll with me, nobody's gonna fuck with you." He's raising his voice at me now. He always gets mad when I don't wanna go party with him. I know parties are where he builds up clientele, networking and sizing up competitors and setting up deals. "Tell me you're gonna come tonight..."

  I sigh, pressing my palm to my forehead before letting it fall back at my side, my body slumping in defeat. I can't say no to him sometimes. "I'm gonna come tonight."

  "Yeah, you are." I hear the smile in his voice and I roll my eyes. With Lex, if it's not about drugs, it's about sex. But I know that's just a front. He talks a big game, but he doesn't like sleeping alone, whether he'll admit it or not. I know him better than that. He always wants me to stay.

  "I'll see you tonight," and I hang up before he can respond.

  _______________________________________________________________

  I start wiping down the tables about twenty minutes before we're scheduled to close. I'm a little anxious to get out of here, even though I'm not looking forward to Remy's party tonight. I say I hate my job, but it's not too bad. I could think of worse things to do than waiting tables, and the people who come in are usually friendly, a lot of locals and regulars because it's such a small restaurant. And it pays the few bills that I have, and keeps me from going coke broke.

  I work during the weekday afternoons while Lex is hustling, mostly to keep my mind occupied so I don't go into fits worrying about him running the streets, and because I need the money, but I already explained that. Sunday nights I close the restaurant though, which makes me even more restless to get out of here. Closing nights are always the longest.

  The front door opens with the chime of the bells right as I glance at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes. Are these people serious?

  "We're closing up..." My sentence fades as I turn over my shoulder and see Tony with some of his boys. Great.

  "Sign outside says you don't close for ten minutes, baby...so how bout some service?" They pull two tables together, shuffling the chairs, making a mess of what I had just straightened up. Fucking assholes.

  Tony sits at the head of the table, slumping down in his chair, knees spread wide. "How's Lex ? He hangin' in there since almost all of his dope business is gone?" He sneers up at me, and I roll my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek.

  I lower my voice, "Tony, don't come in here and start talking about personal stuff, this is my job."

  "Oh, I thought your job was turnin' tricks. You know, to help your man out...gettin' him a little paper on the side." He eyes me up and down, raising a hand to stroke the back of my leg. I cringe as he touches me and I hear a few distant snickers from the boys at the table.

  "Lex has plenty of money," I toss the words as I turn to leave, slapping his hand away, but he reaches out to grab the back of my shirt, fisting it in his hand.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby...where you runnin' off to? Have a seat, stay a while."

  He pulls up a chair and gestures down to it with his dark eyes. And I know I don't have a choice. One false move and I'm fucked. Not only for me, but for Lex too. I sit, turning my body away from him, but he grabs the leg of my chair, pulling it a little closer to him.

  He runs a hand up my thigh slowly as he grinds his words out against my ear, his breath hot on my neck, "See that's not what I heard. I heard he's all bent outta shape from me swiping half of his customers. There's even talk about him tryin' to pay me back for it, tryin' to keep me high and dry out of the coke game. But you know what's gonna happen if he tries to fuck with me and my business right?" He reaches up to hold my chin with his fingers but I jerk my head away.

  He snaps. "I'm gonna fucking kill his ass. That's what's gonna happen!" He slaps the table with an open palm and I flinch.

  He inches in close to me again, and I sink back away from him, curling farther into myself as he speaks. But he reaches for the seat of my chair, right between my legs, sliding it even closer, his thumb reaching up and brushing me against the crotch of my shorts, slowly, deliberately. I feel disgusting as he touches me, ashamed that he has so much control. But I know deep in my gut that I can't stop him. Tony isn't the kinda guy that anyone should fuck with, especially not me.

  "You don't wanna see your little boyfriend dead in the gutter, now do you baby?"

  My stomach turns when he uses the affectionate term, his hooked nose pressed against my cheek, but I know he's saying it merely to harass me.

  "You're fucking sick," I grimace as I spit the words in his face and he rips his hand from between my legs and snatches my face around to his, holding me by the jaw, his fingers pushing my cheeks against my teeth, bruising the flesh.

  "What the fuck did you say?...I said do you wanna find your little cocksucking boyfriend in the ditch with his throat cut?! Huh!? Tell me, you fucking slut!"

  He grips my face harder, although I don't see how that's possible, and I let out a small whimper as I shake my head slowly, swallowing hard, holding my breath.

  He grabs me at my upper arm, smirking when I gasp a little. He's still holding my face as he pulls it close to his, the bill of his hat pressing into my forehead. His breath is hot on my face, the smell of marijuana filling my nostrils as he whispers tight in his throat, coffee-colored eyes locked with mine, making sure I hear every word.

  "Then you just fucking tell him Tony came by with a few words of warning for his pussy ass. Tell that motherfucker to stay out of my coke deals."

  _______________________________________________________________

  "So High" by Wiz Khalifa was playing loud in the house when I walked in the door. How fucking appropriate.

  I'm so tired from work, bu
t I smile when our eyes meet across Remy's crowded living room, and he throws his head a little in a come-here gesture. I stroll up to him slowly and he softens his eyes at me, licking his lips a little. "I was wondering if you were gonna show."

  "I, uh...just had some people come in late at work. Had to stay." I don't want to get into the details of Tony' visit with him, not now.

  He smiles down at me and I run my hands inside the front pocket of his hooded pullover to tug him closer to me, rubbing my nose to his cheek affectionately. But my face goes straight when I feel the syringes against my fingers. I count them in my hands–1, 2, 3, 4–and I look up at him, swallowing hard.

  "You're gonna take four spikes tonight?"

  "They're for both of us."

  "You know I don't like to mainline."

  And it was true. I'd only shot up one time ever, and I hated it. It scares me, and I feel like a real junkie when I do it. I guess smoking and taking it in the nose doesn't seem that hardcore to me anymore, but when I need it directly in my veins...I don't know...It's almost a slap in the face of the fact that I'm dependent. I've never wanted to be clean more than I do in that moment.

  "I know, I just didn't wanna fuck with powder tonight," he shrugs.

  "So just 'fuck me' then, huh?" I pull my hands out of his hoodie when I say it.

  "Look, if you wanna be straight tonight, fine. I brought the guns, if you don't wanna shoot em, then whatever. Good luck getting high tonight with all these stingy motherfuckers around, though. You're only gonna get a hit if you suck a dick in this place."

  And I know he's right. "Fine...fine."

  He smirks at me a little. "Don't worry, I'll hold your hand, little girl."

  "Fuck you."

  He pulls me into the bathroom and closes the door. It's the smallest fucking bathroom I've ever been in. I pull myself up onto the counter next to the sink, hugging one knee to my chest, and I wait, my heart already racing. He pulls the spikes out of his hoodie and sets them on the counter before pulling the fabric over his head in one swift motion, revealing a thin white t-shirt underneath. He picks up one syringe and uncaps it, cutting his eyes over to me with a smirk before lowering his voice a bit, "Wanna get high?" And I laugh a little, rolling my eyes.