Free Heller's Punishment by J.D. Nixon

apologetically. “I’m not attracted to women.
I’m sorry. But you’re very beautiful and if I did swing that way,
I’m sure you’d be first on my list.”
    “Oh, okay. No
sweat. We’re cool,” she said, friendly again. “I bet you’d love my
boyfriend though. He is hot! God, I just want to fuck him all day
long.” I smiled briefly at her devotion to her pimping boyfriend.
Then she spoiled it again. “Cause if I do, he’ll give me more junk.
And I really need it.”
    “You have to
stop thinking about it, Felicia. You’re here for rehab, remember?
No heroin, not anymore. You’re better than that.”
    I didn’t know
if she heard me, but I decided to keep up a positive no-drugs
patter while we were together. It might encourage her or it might
piss her off, I didn’t know. But it was difficult to look at a
nineteen-year-old woman and not care that she was throwing her life
away on a needle and a sleazy pimp who’d probably never done an
honest day’s work in his life. No wonder her parents were so
despairing and had given her so many chances.
    One door of the
double doors opened and Jorge stuck out his head. He was gigantic,
brown-skinned, mid-forties, completely bald with curiously
baby-faced features, chewing gum. He was wearing a generic uniform
of white smock and white pants, his nametag the only interesting
feature. I wasn’t sure if he was an orderly, a porter, a nurse, a
doctor or a counsellor. I greeted him politely and introduced
Felicia to him.
    He gave her a
professional once-over. “Hello, Felicia,” he said, in a slightly
accented voice.
    “Hi Jorge,” she
replied easily.
    “What have you
been up to since I saw you last?”
    “This ‘n’
that.”
    “Looks like
more that than this ,” he said, and laughed
uproariously at his own joke. She tittered as an accompaniment. I
stood uncomfortably, not getting it.
    “I’m Tilly
Chalmers. I’ll be staying with Felicia for the week.”
    “Oh yeah?” He
looked at me with sensuous, heavy-lidded brown eyes, then turned
back to Felicia. “Have a companion now, huh?”
    “You know my
folks,” she replied in a flip tone and shrugged one bony shoulder.
“Can’t leave me alone for a second.”
    “That’s the
truth,” he said. “Got a real nice room for you both, ladies. Follow
me.”
    He didn’t pick
up our luggage, so I ruled out him being a porter, hauling my bag
onto my shoulder and handing Felicia hers. It was about time she
started pulling her own weight , I thought. She shot me an
unimpressed look, but obediently shouldered her bag, struggling
with it as if it contained a tonne of bricks. I rolled my eyes in
disbelief. She couldn’t possibly be that lame-arsed, could she? She
staggered off behind Jorge and I realised that, yes, she really
could be that weak and pathetic. That was enough to turn me off
drugs for life, not that I’d ever had any interest in them in the
first place.
    We followed
Jorge for a while, into a lift, up a few stories, then through a
rabbit warren of corridors and steps. We stepped down five steps,
then a few metres later stepped up three steps. What the hell had
the architects been thinking to design that? Felicia started
sweating badly carrying her load, so I took it off her shoulder
(receiving no thanks at all), and kept following Jorge. When he
stopped and fumbled with a lock on a door, I studied the
fire-escape plan pinned to the wall near our room. I’d been
involved in a fire not that long ago and wasn’t keen to tangle with
the orange and red flames again anytime soon.
    He finally
managed to open the door and we trailed him into the room. I
dropped the bags in surprise when I viewed the magnificent panorama
from the windows. I pressed my face against the glass of one and
exclaimed in happiness when I saw the ancient, wonderful mountains
and the glorious vista spread in front of us.
    “Oh Jorge. It’s
so beautiful!” I couldn’t help but exclaim.
    He smiled at me
delightedly, less pleased when