Post by Holden Ross on Nov 14, 2019 20:01:15 GMT -5
The bass thumps through the ceiling as Holden crushes a few Oxy's in a mortar on his desktop. He grinds them into powder and then transfers the powder to a piece of glass before “cutting” it into two lines with his driver’s license. Using a rolled up twenty dollar bill, he vacuums up one line in his right nostril before the second line follows suit up he left nostril. He repeats this with a Xanax “bar” and, upon snorting the line the bar produces, he wipes the piece of glass clean and locks both it, and the mortar, in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. Within a few minutes he is as high as a Boeing in mid flight.
His pocket buzzes and he digs out his phone; a text from Tabitha. “I have to swing by my parents tonight after class…want me to come by? :*” He smiles, seeing her face in his mind, and replies, “Illbe waitin wit bels on” and heads upstairs into the club. The music is loud. The lights are slow. “Fog” billows from a smoke machine as a caramel colored woman. Shakes her nineteen year old ass on a nearby stage. She blows Holden a kiss and he returns it while moving through the club like a shark through water. He feels his pocket vibrate again but doesn’t bother with checking the message.
He nearly falls flat after tripping over the leg of a patrons chair. The customer, a heavy set white man, about forty-five, in khaki Dockers and a blue polo, takes offense and rises to his feet. “The fuck is your problem?” he yells and is still barely heard above the music Holden simply laughs and dismisses him with the wave of his hand and stumbles towards the door. He is stopped by a leggy blonde in her early twenties who pulls him close and guides him to a hall with several doors on each side. She leads him into the first room on the right; its small, just big enough for the reclining chair that waits, empty. She helps him sit in the chair and watches as, grinning, he passes out with his chin on his chest and a thread of saliva creeping towards his chin from the corner of his mouth. The blonde smiles, blows him a kiss, and leaves the room, flipping the light switch as she closes the door. This, in turn, activates a dim red light above the door, indicating that the room is occupied.
When he comes to, he is sitting on Tabitha's couch, in her condo. His head pounds and everything is foggy. No recollection, whatsoever, of how he got here. He turns his head to look to his right and finds Tabitha, sitting on a bar stool, wearing a pair of sweats and a P.C.W. hoodie. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun and she doesn’t have her glasses on. He gives her a confused smile while pushing himself up and into a sitting position.
“What’s up, babe? I don’t even remember coming here…” he stammers while scratching the back of his head.
“Do you think I’m dumb? Stupid, maybe?” her voice is quiet, barely louder than a whisper. “Am I a joke to you? Or just a piece of ass?”
He now sees the barely contained rage simmering under the surface. He tries to fly a smile but her icy stare shoots it down. His brow finally creases with confusion.
“What in the Hell are you talking about?” he asks.
“Look, if we are going to be a couple, and not just fuck buddies, you gotta be honest with me. Do you think I’m stupid?” is her response.
“No, of course I d-“ she cuts him off.
“Then why do you think you can throw your dick at any piece of strange that comes along, or works for you?!” she is off the stool, on her feet, and pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I know some of the girls that work in your club, I don’t care that you even run the club, but I wont put up with you fuckin the other girls. The whores from the club, the ring rats, the random bitch you meet wherever the Hell it is you meet them. Do you get me, Holden?”
He nods, looking as if he was slapped across the face. He has never seen her like this.
“I mean it, I find out you do anything, ANYTHING, with some other girl and we are finished. For good. This is your only chance with me. You understand?”
All he can do is nod.
“You better, because I mean it, I won’t be treated like an afterthought…”
Tears have started to fall down her cheeks and he is there for her to fall into his open arms. He kisses her on the crown of her head and nearly squeezes the breath out of her.
“I won’t, I promise you, I won’t.”
His pocket buzzes and he digs out his phone; a text from Tabitha. “I have to swing by my parents tonight after class…want me to come by? :*” He smiles, seeing her face in his mind, and replies, “Illbe waitin wit bels on” and heads upstairs into the club. The music is loud. The lights are slow. “Fog” billows from a smoke machine as a caramel colored woman. Shakes her nineteen year old ass on a nearby stage. She blows Holden a kiss and he returns it while moving through the club like a shark through water. He feels his pocket vibrate again but doesn’t bother with checking the message.
He nearly falls flat after tripping over the leg of a patrons chair. The customer, a heavy set white man, about forty-five, in khaki Dockers and a blue polo, takes offense and rises to his feet. “The fuck is your problem?” he yells and is still barely heard above the music Holden simply laughs and dismisses him with the wave of his hand and stumbles towards the door. He is stopped by a leggy blonde in her early twenties who pulls him close and guides him to a hall with several doors on each side. She leads him into the first room on the right; its small, just big enough for the reclining chair that waits, empty. She helps him sit in the chair and watches as, grinning, he passes out with his chin on his chest and a thread of saliva creeping towards his chin from the corner of his mouth. The blonde smiles, blows him a kiss, and leaves the room, flipping the light switch as she closes the door. This, in turn, activates a dim red light above the door, indicating that the room is occupied.
When he comes to, he is sitting on Tabitha's couch, in her condo. His head pounds and everything is foggy. No recollection, whatsoever, of how he got here. He turns his head to look to his right and finds Tabitha, sitting on a bar stool, wearing a pair of sweats and a P.C.W. hoodie. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun and she doesn’t have her glasses on. He gives her a confused smile while pushing himself up and into a sitting position.
“What’s up, babe? I don’t even remember coming here…” he stammers while scratching the back of his head.
“Do you think I’m dumb? Stupid, maybe?” her voice is quiet, barely louder than a whisper. “Am I a joke to you? Or just a piece of ass?”
He now sees the barely contained rage simmering under the surface. He tries to fly a smile but her icy stare shoots it down. His brow finally creases with confusion.
“What in the Hell are you talking about?” he asks.
“Look, if we are going to be a couple, and not just fuck buddies, you gotta be honest with me. Do you think I’m stupid?” is her response.
“No, of course I d-“ she cuts him off.
“Then why do you think you can throw your dick at any piece of strange that comes along, or works for you?!” she is off the stool, on her feet, and pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I know some of the girls that work in your club, I don’t care that you even run the club, but I wont put up with you fuckin the other girls. The whores from the club, the ring rats, the random bitch you meet wherever the Hell it is you meet them. Do you get me, Holden?”
He nods, looking as if he was slapped across the face. He has never seen her like this.
“I mean it, I find out you do anything, ANYTHING, with some other girl and we are finished. For good. This is your only chance with me. You understand?”
All he can do is nod.
“You better, because I mean it, I won’t be treated like an afterthought…”
Tears have started to fall down her cheeks and he is there for her to fall into his open arms. He kisses her on the crown of her head and nearly squeezes the breath out of her.
“I won’t, I promise you, I won’t.”