Free Relapse: A Novel by Nikki Turner Page A

body at the same time. The water magically vanished, and in its place a beautiful sheen appeared, causing her chocolate-brown skin to radiate with what appeared to be an inner glow.
    Don walked past her as she left the bathroom to go into the bedroom and get dressed. “What happened to the damn food, baby? Shit’s everywhere.”
    Before she could respond, Don had softly shut the bathroom door behind him. “We got two minutes before the video jumps off.”
    “Don, are you even concerned that you almost burned the house down?”
    He ignored her and didn’t say a word. She decided she’d approach him when he came out of the bathroom.
    After sliding on a pair of Seven jeans and a camel-colored shirt that was the same color as the stitching in the jeans, she went to brush her hair in the bathroom, but the door was locked.
    She banged on it and then screamed, “Why’d you lock the door? Open the door, Don.” She tried banging again, but there was no response. So she kicked the door. As she waited, she caught a glimpse of the smoke detector on the ceiling in the hall.
    “You took the fucking batteries out of the smoke detector, Don?” she asked.
    She could hear him inhaling what she knew was
that shit
up his nose.
    “You need to stop that shit!” Beijing screamed from her side of the door.
    “Don’t want to stop” were the words that came from the other side. After two or three more snorting sounds, he shouted, “You should try some of this here shit”—another sniff—“you know you like its benefits.”
    He had to be talking out of his ass. She sighed. “What benefits?”she asked. “That shit don’t even work for you no more. For real,” she shot back at him, wanting to bruise his ego.
    “Don’t be modest. You ain’t that modest when I be putting the wood down on you for hours at a time. You know you like the perks of the dope dick.”
    “I just can’t believe you are addicted to that shit. That shit is disgusting and it makes you look bad. Dude, you ain’t even aware of your surroundings.”
    “One thing for certain,” Don reasoned, “you may be on the other side of the fence one day.”
    “Don’t hold your breath,” she shouted and went into the bedroom to gather some of her things up, throwing everything that would fit into her overnight bag.
    “Yes, you will.” He took another sniff. “You gonna need something to lean on one day. Believe that shit! Everybody needs something to escape at times.”
    “You got me mixed up with one of dem hoes or one of your groupies!” She was going to start in on him, but she realized that the only important thing was getting him help before he really hurt himself. “Real talk, Don, you really need to go to rehab!”
    “I’ll wait until the day come when we can go together,” he sarcastically said to her.
    Beijing was so pissed off, she stormed out of the house without even realizing that she’d forgotten her purse. The car door was unlocked so she put her bags in before returning to the house. When she stormed back in to get her Gucci bag, she saw that the bathroom door was now slightly ajar. She couldn’t resist peeping through the opening.
    “I can’t believe this shit,” she murmured.
    Don was still in the bathroom sitting on the toilet, pants all the way to his ankles, but what she couldn’t believe—or didn’t want to believe—was that he was sitting on the porcelain throne with yet another lit Newport stuck in his mouth, and he was semiconsciousat best. Somewhere in his mind he was wrestling with the heroin, and the drug must have been winning. The drug must have finally pinned him down to the proverbial mat because—
Bam—
a loud noise arose when he fell off his throne, passed out.
    Beijing rushed in and put out the cigarette from his mouth for the second time that day. “This shit is fucking over. You can kill yourself on your time, but not on my fucking watch.” She
knew
he was in no condition to understand but she had to get it