Free Sweet Pain (The Club #18) by Rebel Adams Page B

punched the guy lying beside me. He didn’t move. It was him, I decided. Darnell did it all, and now he’d left me with nothing. I looked at the clock beside the bed. It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon. We’d been asleep since the night before.”
    I jumped up and landed on his chest hard. Slapping him across the face a couple times for good measure, I realized he wasn’t going to get up. Tears stung my eyes as my body shook uncontrollably. I had to find a fix soon.
    The pain wouldn’t start until later in the evening, and the withdrawal wouldn’t be unbearable until morning, but I needed a fix like I needed my next breath.
    “Darnell, get the hell up.” He still didn’t stir. I slipped his wallet out of his pocket and opened it. Pictures of his kid and a fucking penny. Of course he didn’t have any money. Darnell wasn’t a john. He was a friend. Often he was a bed partner too, and we got high together a lot. Lately, he’d been using with me and not paying. That shit was ending. If there had been any money in his wallet, I would have taken it all. Instead, I knew I had to get ready and go find a date.
    Walking into the bathroom of the probably shittiest apartment you could find in Texas, I assessed myself in the mirror. I looked like hell. The little bit of drugs that still coursed through me were not enough. I’d have to fake it with a lot of makeup and hairspray. Turning the water on in the shower, I cursed at how cold it was. The hot water rarely lasted past everyone’s morning showers, and it was almost dinner time. I hopped in and back out quickly, soaping up the important parts and getting a jolt from the cold.
    “Get the fuck up, Diana.” I jumped as my neighbor’s voice came through the wall. It was possible he had dope sickness too — or maybe he’d just scored. With that thought, I became consumed with finding out. Pulling on my underwear and a T-shirt, I went outside and over to his apartment.
    “Lonnie, leave me alone.” I assumed that was Diana.
    “You drank all my liquor, didn’t you?” He sounded angry. A person with control of their life would walk away. Naturally, I knocked.
    “Who the hell is that, Lonnie?” Diana barked the words, and I decided I didn’t like her.
    The door was ripped away from the jamb, startling me, nearly sending my quickly-crashing ass flying backward in fear. “Jesus, Gia, what the hell do you want?” Lonnie stood in the doorway, sweatpants hung from his frail frame. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and a fresh tattoo of a large black skull bled down his chest. I tried not to look at it. I wasn’t a tat kind of gal. I only had one small tattoo and the blood from the fresh inking made me a little queasy.
    Goddamn, I needed a hit.
    My voice didn’t come out nearly as strong as I’d wanted either. “I wanted to see if you scored.”
    “Oh, really?” He grabbed my arm and yanked me into the apartment. He wasn’t gentle, at all, pinching the skin of my arm hard. I couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. “You think I need to supply your fucking addiction, too? Isn’t Diana’s enough?”
    Diana sat on the edge of the couch shaking, her mascara smeared all over her face. She kept rubbing her eyes violently and smirked at me, missing one of her front teeth. I’d made a huge mistake. I realized as Lonnie slammed his door.
    He got right into my face and got way too loud. “You good for nothing bitches think I’m just here to supply you with dope. I got my own problems, you know.”
    “I’m sorry, Lonnie. I’m hurting.” I avoided eye contact. “You know how that is.”
    He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. “You think you know me?” He pushed his lips painfully against mine, biting my lip hard.
    “No, Lonnie! I don’t know you! I’m sorry.” I looked at my feet, wanting to run, the taste of my own coppery blood building in my mouth. The hell did he bite me for? But shit, there was still a small part of me that thought he might