My Life Underground ~ 1 ~ My Life After You
From the Author of Beauty in Bloodshed. This is my newest short story, based on characters from a novel i am writing. i would love feedback on whether or not anyone would be interested in reading if i continue. Enjoy!
PART ONE:
I wake with my head pounding. My heart is pounding in my ears. I dreamt of him again. Of Keenan. Today is one year exactly since he left. Without a word. Not even to me. His best friend. I shake off the feelings of loss and sadness and gather myself up. I crawl out of bed. There are people talking downstairs. Luther must be working.
"Ainslee, get that gorgeous ass of yours down here!"
Luther's voice drifts up to me from the living room. I quickly throw on some clothes and put my hair in a pony tail. The stairs creak under my bare feet as I walk down to the sound of Luther talking. He is sitting on the living room couch speaking animatedly, as he always does when he's been awake for a while. There is a man and a woman sitting across from him, both tall, both blond, both gorgeous. I wonder to myself why they are in my living room, why they are in this business when either of them could easily be a model or actor. I am suddenly self-conscious of my auburn hair and less than perfect body.
"Sit down," says Luther, " This is Mike and Marissa, remember, Joe's contacts from the city."
I sit down next to Luther and smile politely at the super-model-esque couple. So unfair. They continue talking business and I daydream. After a few minutes, Marissa reaches into her purse and pulls out 2 large wrapped packages. Luther pulls out a stack of cash from his pants pocket. 2 kilos of cocaine. Enough to last us for a while. Our old contact ripped us off on the last sale. So we recruited the help of street wise Joseph Wright to find us some new contacts. Leading us to the model-esque couple sitting in front of me.
After some niceties they get up and leave. Leaving me and Luther alone with the blow. Alone with my thoughts.
"Well, care to try our product?" asks Luther, a sly grin slipping onto his face.
Luther prefers to snort it. I prefer to cook it. I get up and go into the kitchen, grab a spoon, a glass of water, a candle and my baking soda. Luther is already cutting a slit into one of the packages with his pocket knife. He scoops a little of the white powder onto the tip of the knife and holds it up to his nose. Inhales. A shudder runs down his spine. I sit down next to him on the couch and unload my burden onto the coffee table.
I light my candle and scoop up a little water with my spoon. I sprinkle some coke and baking soda into the spoon. I hold it over the candle. After a while the strange mixture in my spoon burbles and it's ready. I grab Luther's knife and scrape the crack off the top of the liquid in my spoon. I lay it gently onto the table. Luther watches me with great interest although he has seen my do it about a million times. I grab my pipe and put a little rock on the top of the brillo in it. I grab my lighter. My heart pounds and my stomach twists with anticipation. I put the pipe in my mouth and carefully light the crack twisting the pipe to heat it up even. Inhaling long and easy. I inhale till my lungs are ready to explode, until I cannot possibly fill my lungs anymore. I breathe out.
As soon as I release I can feel it. My head is floating and my heart is racing. I can't focus my vision, can't catch my breath. But I don't care at all. I don't care about anything but the crack. The smell, kinda like hot metal, the sound of it burning, the sweet taste on my tongue as I exhale. The rush. I am god, I am invincible. I cannot be touched. I am Jesus Fucking Christ.
Luther is staring at me. I don't even care.
"Some good shit, eh?" he says.
I don't say anything back. I just look at him. A grin breaks out on his face. He nods at me.
"Fuckin told ya so." he is grinning like crazy, " Ready for sale. We're gunna make a killing."
I can practically hear his heart beating. I can hear my own. Can he hear mine? The phone is ringing. I sit there and look at it. Luther looks at me expectantly. I sit there and look at it. Staring. Un-blinking. Static.
"Goddamnit woman, you are useless when you're on that shit." Luther exclaims, exasperated. He grabs the phone.
"Hello?"
Silence. He nods at the phone.
"Mmmhmm, one second."
He looks at me and holds the phone out. I stare for a minute. There are far more interesting and exciting things right now than a phone call. For a moment, panic strikes me as I wonder who it might be on the other line. Why was Luther so polite? It wasn't a customer. My heart starts off racing all over again. I hear Luther sigh as he shoves the phone into my hand.
"It's your second mom for fuck's sake, answer it."
Something clicks in me and I hold the phone up to my ear.
"Trace?" I ask, unsure if Luther is fucking with me or not.
"Ainslee?" she asks, just as unsure, her voice is shaking. She has been crying, I can tell. Something in me tells me to be sober. My body has a hard time obeying.
"What's wrong Trace?"
Trace is Keenan's mom. Her parents and my father's parents migrated over from Ireland together. Trace and my father grew up together, Keenan, his brother Corbin, and I grew up together.
"It's Keenan. He is in trouble."
I sit in shock for a moment. I haven't heard anyone other than myself or Corbin speak of him in about 6 months. I almost don't know what to say. I bring myself to say something. Anything.
"How so?" I ask, my voice is breathy, quiet, anticipatory.
"Corbin went to Vancouver to find him. He did. But he didn't find him very well. Corbin found him on Hastings street, shooting up and selling that heroin shit. When Keenan saw Corbin, he ran off. That was that." she bursts into heart breaking sobs. I am struck mute.
"I'll come see you." I say into the phone, unsure of anything else to say. I hit the end button before she can reply.
"What was that all about?" Luther questions me.
"Nothing, Trace is just having a bad day. I'm going to go see her later."
He stares at me unbelieving. I don't waver. I stuff another rock into my pipe and inhale. Inhale. Exhale. My head races with thoughts. My heart pounds. I don't know how Trace expects me to help Keenan. I can't even help myself.
I wake with my head pounding. My heart is pounding in my ears. I dreamt of him again. Of Keenan. Today is one year exactly since he left. Without a word. Not even to me. His best friend. I shake off the feelings of loss and sadness and gather myself up. I crawl out of bed. There are people talking downstairs. Luther must be working.
"Ainslee, get that gorgeous ass of yours down here!"
Luther's voice drifts up to me from the living room. I quickly throw on some clothes and put my hair in a pony tail. The stairs creak under my bare feet as I walk down to the sound of Luther talking. He is sitting on the living room couch speaking animatedly, as he always does when he's been awake for a while. There is a man and a woman sitting across from him, both tall, both blond, both gorgeous. I wonder to myself why they are in my living room, why they are in this business when either of them could easily be a model or actor. I am suddenly self-conscious of my auburn hair and less than perfect body.
"Sit down," says Luther, " This is Mike and Marissa, remember, Joe's contacts from the city."
I sit down next to Luther and smile politely at the super-model-esque couple. So unfair. They continue talking business and I daydream. After a few minutes, Marissa reaches into her purse and pulls out 2 large wrapped packages. Luther pulls out a stack of cash from his pants pocket. 2 kilos of cocaine. Enough to last us for a while. Our old contact ripped us off on the last sale. So we recruited the help of street wise Joseph Wright to find us some new contacts. Leading us to the model-esque couple sitting in front of me.
After some niceties they get up and leave. Leaving me and Luther alone with the blow. Alone with my thoughts.
"Well, care to try our product?" asks Luther, a sly grin slipping onto his face.
Luther prefers to snort it. I prefer to cook it. I get up and go into the kitchen, grab a spoon, a glass of water, a candle and my baking soda. Luther is already cutting a slit into one of the packages with his pocket knife. He scoops a little of the white powder onto the tip of the knife and holds it up to his nose. Inhales. A shudder runs down his spine. I sit down next to him on the couch and unload my burden onto the coffee table.
I light my candle and scoop up a little water with my spoon. I sprinkle some coke and baking soda into the spoon. I hold it over the candle. After a while the strange mixture in my spoon burbles and it's ready. I grab Luther's knife and scrape the crack off the top of the liquid in my spoon. I lay it gently onto the table. Luther watches me with great interest although he has seen my do it about a million times. I grab my pipe and put a little rock on the top of the brillo in it. I grab my lighter. My heart pounds and my stomach twists with anticipation. I put the pipe in my mouth and carefully light the crack twisting the pipe to heat it up even. Inhaling long and easy. I inhale till my lungs are ready to explode, until I cannot possibly fill my lungs anymore. I breathe out.
As soon as I release I can feel it. My head is floating and my heart is racing. I can't focus my vision, can't catch my breath. But I don't care at all. I don't care about anything but the crack. The smell, kinda like hot metal, the sound of it burning, the sweet taste on my tongue as I exhale. The rush. I am god, I am invincible. I cannot be touched. I am Jesus Fucking Christ.
Luther is staring at me. I don't even care.
"Some good shit, eh?" he says.
I don't say anything back. I just look at him. A grin breaks out on his face. He nods at me.
"Fuckin told ya so." he is grinning like crazy, " Ready for sale. We're gunna make a killing."
I can practically hear his heart beating. I can hear my own. Can he hear mine? The phone is ringing. I sit there and look at it. Luther looks at me expectantly. I sit there and look at it. Staring. Un-blinking. Static.
"Goddamnit woman, you are useless when you're on that shit." Luther exclaims, exasperated. He grabs the phone.
"Hello?"
Silence. He nods at the phone.
"Mmmhmm, one second."
He looks at me and holds the phone out. I stare for a minute. There are far more interesting and exciting things right now than a phone call. For a moment, panic strikes me as I wonder who it might be on the other line. Why was Luther so polite? It wasn't a customer. My heart starts off racing all over again. I hear Luther sigh as he shoves the phone into my hand.
"It's your second mom for fuck's sake, answer it."
Something clicks in me and I hold the phone up to my ear.
"Trace?" I ask, unsure if Luther is fucking with me or not.
"Ainslee?" she asks, just as unsure, her voice is shaking. She has been crying, I can tell. Something in me tells me to be sober. My body has a hard time obeying.
"What's wrong Trace?"
Trace is Keenan's mom. Her parents and my father's parents migrated over from Ireland together. Trace and my father grew up together, Keenan, his brother Corbin, and I grew up together.
"It's Keenan. He is in trouble."
I sit in shock for a moment. I haven't heard anyone other than myself or Corbin speak of him in about 6 months. I almost don't know what to say. I bring myself to say something. Anything.
"How so?" I ask, my voice is breathy, quiet, anticipatory.
"Corbin went to Vancouver to find him. He did. But he didn't find him very well. Corbin found him on Hastings street, shooting up and selling that heroin shit. When Keenan saw Corbin, he ran off. That was that." she bursts into heart breaking sobs. I am struck mute.
"I'll come see you." I say into the phone, unsure of anything else to say. I hit the end button before she can reply.
"What was that all about?" Luther questions me.
"Nothing, Trace is just having a bad day. I'm going to go see her later."
He stares at me unbelieving. I don't waver. I stuff another rock into my pipe and inhale. Inhale. Exhale. My head races with thoughts. My heart pounds. I don't know how Trace expects me to help Keenan. I can't even help myself.
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