Post by Rated R on Jul 26, 2012 17:28:22 GMT -5
Act One
”Finally, in conclusion, let me just say this.”
- Peter Sellers
I’ve made mistakes. I’ve made a lot of them. But after twenty four years upon this Earth you would think that I’d at least have figured out that when I see a mistake coming I’d get out of the way, I’d find some kind of diversion and go in the opposite direction. I mean that’s what preventative measures are all about, right? I’ve prided myself in the past two years on my preventative measures. That’s what you have to do when you’re a recovering addict, spot every little thing that could lead you to a relapse and ensure that it isn’t a problem ahead of time. There’s a good chance that is the only way that I’ve gotten through these past two years, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Clean is clean, sober is sober, alive is alive.
But then you get too comfortable, you start to feel like you’ve got everything under control. And that is when you slip, that is when you stop paying attention to the tiny things around you. You start to believe your own hype and then you just screw everything up. You can only take preventative measures if you can see the problem in front of you after all and when you stop paying attention… well, ‘right now’ measures don’t really sound as great, do they? You see, I became so sure of myself, so assured that I had kicked the bug, that I just stopped worrying about it. I took risks that I shouldn’t have taken, believing that I could l could beat the world.
But you can’t, you can’t beat the world. Because like myself it always has a trick up its sleeve. Unlike myself however it’s sleeves never ends, and it never runs out of tricks. Just when you’ve think you’ve managed it it kicks you in your ass and laughs in your face, you know, just like any woman does with Yukio Blaze.
Sorry, are the Yukio Blaze jokes getting old yet? No? Good, because I’ve got a lot of them.
I’ve been believing my own hype for years now, ever since I won the WFWF World Championship all that time ago. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized what an idiot I had been, what a pathetic champion I had proven to be. The best of a bad lot. That’s nothing to be proud of, that’s nothing to brag about, but proud I was and brag I did. And that spread into my personal life, I believed that I suddenly had control of everything. I was confident, self-assured, thinking that no matter what happened, be it in the ring or outside of it, I could manage it and remain smiling.
But then it all came crashing down around me, piece by piece.
I started losing to these pathetic, no name rookies, people who shouldn’t have been able to shine by boots. At first I thought it was nothing, that it was just a phase, that any week I’d just turn up and suddenly be the great Trace Demon I always thought I had been. But that didn’t happen, I just kept racking up the losses, falling down the card, becoming less and less relevant. And it wasn’t just in the ring. Things outside of it started spiralling out of control. Suddenly I was a father, then my mother died, then I found out I had a half-sister that I never knew about. The latest is that they now want me to adopt that half-sister and I’ve only got a few weeks to decide.
F*****g life eh, always trying to mess you up.
But you see, everything was just crashing down around me, and I had to make a choice. My own problems or my career. Part of me knew that whichever one I chose the other one would inevitably suffer, that I could only manage to save one of them. But as you may have gathered by now, at the time I thought I was god, I thought I had everything under control and that no matter what I did everything was going to be alright. So I chose my career, because if there’s one thing I was sure of it was my ability to hold my own head together.
F*****g ego.
And at first, I thought it was working, I thought that I’d done it. The wins started racking up, I got a brand new contract, a second shot at the International championship… another shot at Drakz… it was all so perfect. But it wasn’t. Because the cravings started. I’d been pushing it to the back of my mind for months now, pretending that I was fine, telling myself that it was normal, that I could get by. But I skipped meeting after meeting, choosing everything else over it. And they just wouldn’t go away.
I believed my own hype, and it came back to screw me.
A woman, brunette, mid-forties, knocks on the car window. Behind her stands the local community centre. Today there will be a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and this woman is the one running it. She’ll stand there and tell the people about herself, about how when she was twenty years younger she sold her body for drugs, and they’ll listen, because that’s what Narcotics Anonymous is all about. Sitting and listening, telling each other about their lives because that’s what you need to do. You need to tell people about what you’re going through without the fear that they’ll judge you.
That’s what I need.
I roll down the window.
Woman: Will you be joining us today?
Trace Demon: No, I was just dropping somebody off.
Woman: I didn’t see anyone get out of your car.
She’s trying to help, to coax me in, thinking that I haven’t got the courage to just walk in.
Truth is, I don’t know if I do anymore.
Trace Demon: I didn’t see the Titanic sink, pretty sure it happened.
I don’t care that even my jokes are getting worse. I just want her judgmental eyes to get out of my personal space. Thankfully, I’m the one in the car and it’s an easy task to up the window and to turn the key. Whatever attempt at convincing me to go in falls as flat as Drake’s girlfriends rack as the engine drowns her out.
You might be wondering why I’ve been telling you all this crap about how believing my own hype has slowly but surely been destroying every little aspect of my existence. Because the thing is, I don’t believe it anymore. I know that I’m not the guaranteed victor, I know that I can’t just enter that ring and win every match. I’m not lying to myself anymore.
And that’s a problem for you Drakz. That’s a problem for little Drake Elias. Because now that I know I can’t just coast along. I know that as my personal life falls apart around me that that ring is all I’ve got. And that’s why I’m working harder than ever, planning more than ever, doing everything that I can to ensure victory.
Vegas can’t come soon enough. I’ve got an itch to scratch.
< *** >
Missing a dozen calls from Wayne isn’t really a problem for me. And by miss, I of course mean ignore. God, I sound like a stupid teenager when I say that, ignoring someone’s calls because I know that I don’t want to hear what they have to say. And I guess that’s part of it, the other part being how much I just don’t want to speak to him about what I know he wants to speak about. The other part of course is that I admitted to Wayne about my cravings coming back and that since I showed up for the show he already knows that I didn’t take his advice to skip it and go to a meeting. I guess I won’t tell him about skipping out on another meeting this morning then.
But as I was saying, missing a dozen calls from Wayne isn’t really a problem. What is a problem is missing a call from Vanessa.
That b***h is crazy.
So that’s why I’m heading over to their place right now, because Vanessa called me and told me to. It sounds like I’m whipped when I say it like that. F**k, can you be whipped by someone else’s wife? Do I really want to even think about that? No, I’m just gonna sweep it under the rug with all the other secrets I’m keeping right now.
Because that’s been working so well for me the past few weeks.
I don’t bother to wait for someone to let me into the house after I knock, instead just choosing to let myself in. It’s not breaking and entering if you’ve been summoned over by the wicked witch of the WFWF.
Don’t tell her I said that.
Trace Demon: Wayne, Vanessa, you home?
Vanessa McGurk: Kitchen!
I follow the shout into the McGurk’s kitchen where Vanessa is chopping up vegetables. With her back turned to me I can’t help but steal a glimpse at her peachy ass in her little leather shorts.
Trace Demon: You wearing them specially for me Ness?
She turns, giving me that eyebrow raised smirk that she wears so well.
Vanessa McGurk: You breaking into other people’s houses now?
Trace Demon: If you didn’t want me walking in then you shouldn’t have left the door open.
Vanessa McGurk: Oh, yes, of course, how stupid of me.
She lays the sarcasm on so thick that even a deaf person would be able to figure it out just from the body language. She turns back to cutting up the vegetables and I get in close, close enough to smell the perfume on her neck. I playfully whisper into her ear.
Trace Demon: You didn’t answer my question.
Vanessa McGurk: Don’t flatter yourself. Now get back before I cut your c**k off.
I laugh, grabbing an apple from the side by her hand and throw it in the air as I back away, taking a bite out of it as I lean against the opposite table top.
Trace Demon: You kiss Wayne with that mouth?
She puts the knife down and turns to face me, trying to hide a grin. She might not want to admit it but she loves these playful little meetings of ours.
Vanessa McGurk: I do other things to.
She winks at me and I burst out into laughter again. She lets out a little chuckle of her own. I take another bite out of the apple, cherishing the fruits liquid as it runs down my throat. I’ve found that fruit is one of the only things that can take my mind off of my cravings for just a few moments. They’re like… well, they’re like a drug.
Trace Demon: So, where’s Wayne?
Vanessa McGurk: He’s just been at the gym.
There’s a recurring trend with Wayne that when he’s pissed with someone he always ends up going to the gym.
Vanessa McGurk: He’ll be back any minute now. He’s pissed with you y’know.
See, told you, the gym means he’s pissed, and not the fun kind.
Trace Demon: I kind of figured.
Vanessa McGurk: I mean what were you thinking?
Trace Demon: The general consensus is that I’m never thinking.
Vanessa McGurk: That would make sense of a lot of things.
Believe it or not but I like Vanessa. She’s sarcastic, feisty and exhudes confidence. I mean she’s not the kind of woman that I’d ever spend more than a day with because she doesn’t take any crap and I give a lot of crap, but she’s a good laugh when she’s in a good mood. Vanessa being in a good mood is rare, but it’s fun when you can get it.
I hear the door slam and I know that here comes one person who isn’t in a good mood.
Wayne McGurk: Trace!
Vanessa McGurk: You have fun now.
She winks at me and returns to her vegetables. Oh yeah, she wants me. I take another sneak peek at that perky ass (come on, I’m only human) and then walk off into the sitting room where Wayne stands in his gym gear. He’s still sweating, which means he went hard at the gym. The harder he went the more pissed off he tends to be so this one’s got to be at least a seven on the McGurk pissed off scale. I’m saving a ten for when he hears Scarlett’s virginity story.
Trace Demon: I’m warning you right now, I’m not gonna be able to take you seriously in your gym shorts.
Wayne McGurk: You’ve always got to make jokes, don’t you?
Trace Demon: Alexa thinks it’s a defence mechanism to stop me from connecting with anyone emotionally.
He shakes his head and I’m sure that if it wasn’t ridiculously overplayed by just about everybody nowadays he’d be standing there slack jawed. Thankfully he’s not, because usually I only get that reaction from women when I pull down my… you know what, I’m going to leave that one for another day.
Wayne McGurk: What were you thinking?
Trace Demon: You know, I feel like I’m getting asked that question a lot recently.
Wayne McGurk: It’s a good question!
I can tell that my constant witty humour is breaking him down. I’m like a child, both in the way that I don’t think about the consequences of my actions and that you just can’t stay mad at me for long.
Trace Demon: Look, I’ve done nothing to receive such a hostile welcome.
Wayne McGurk: My daughter kicked a hippie in the head.
That’s got to be the headline of one of those really bad self-help shows. You know the ones - the ones where they don’t actually help anybody, they just bait them into making complete idiots of themselves. Drakz has probably been on at least a few episodes. ‘My daughter kicked a hippie in the head’… I’d watch that episode.
Trace Demon: I didn’t tell her to do that. In fact I’m very much against the abuse of hippies.
They make some really good weed and even though I don’t smoke it anymore, it’s a comfort knowing that future generations get to enjoy it.
Wayne McGurk: You beat the same guy up literally minutes before.
He’s got me there.
Trace Demon: Yeah, but that was about proving a point.
Wayne McGurk: That is exactly my problem. Scarlett’s been watching you…
Trace Demon: Well that’s just creepy. Flattering but…
His glare cuts me off. He might not pull it out of the bag as often but he and Vanessa have the exact same slightly terrifying glare that just tells you that s**t is about to go down. I have this theory that Wayne and Vanessa just sit down in this sitting room and have glaring contests. Then I stop thinking about it because the image is far scarier than it ought to be.
I signal for him to continue. I mean he’d have done it anyway, but this way I at least feel a little bit in power.
Wayne McGurk: I asked you to help me train her, not for her to become you. I mean you’re a good friend Trace, and you’re a great wrestler, but you’re a piss poor decision maker.
I’d like to argue against that one, but really if you’ve known me for more than five minutes you’ll know that Wayne is very much on the money with his declaration of my incompetence.
Trace Demon: You asked me to train her Wayne. I can’t control what she does. She’s old enough to decide if she wants to kick a hippy in the head, alright? I mean come on Wayne, look at all the crazy s**t you’ve done in the name of wrestling.
I don’t think I can say the words ‘kick a hippy in the head’ enough times today.
Wayne McGurk: I don’t want her to be like me Trace, I don’t want her to go about putting cigarettes out in people’s eyes, screwing people over, that’s not the kind of daughter that I want.
Trace Demon: That’s what this business does to people. You know it, Vanessa knows it, I know it and hell, Scarlett knows it. She’s been around the WFWF her entire life and quite frankly you can’t shield a kid from half the crazy stuff that happens out there. Why don’t you tell me the real problem here Wayne?
Wayne McGurk: What?
Trace Demon: Oh come on. You know that this kick a hippy in the head thing is just part of your problem. I mean sure, I get not wanting Scarlett to be the type of woman who is willing to stab people in the back to get by, but you wouldn’t have asked me to help you train her if you weren’t at least prepared for something like this to happen. I mean stabbing people in the back has kind of been my thing for a while now. So just tell me, what the hell is your problem?
Wayne McGurk: I don’t trust you!
Silence rears its ugly head, filling up the room like a lingering darkness, embracing everything that it touches.
Trace Demon: Why even ask me to train her if you don’t trust me?
Wayne McGurk: Because that was before…
He’s quiet now, a far cry from the pissed off amped up Wayne of moments ago.
Trace Demon: Before I told you about the cravings coming back.
His head lowers guiltily, but the fact that he’s guilty over this doesn’t change what he said. I always thought that Wayne was the one guy I could trust, the one guy who understood what I was going through. But as it turns out he’s just like the rest of them. Judgmental, pathetic, your run of the mill bunghole.
Wayne McGurk: Look, it’s not that I don’t…
Trace Demon: Just shut up Wayne.
Usually I’d shout, I’d roar and I’d put up a fight. But I just… can’t. I’m tired of it all, tired of the fighting, tired of arguments, tired of it all.
I just want to… give in.
Wayne McGurk: I’m…
Trace Demon: Don’t bother. I’ll train Scarlett, because she’s a good kid and she’s got potential. But you… you can f**k off.
I don’t listen to whatever crap he has to say. I just make my exit.
< *** >
I end up spending most of the day driving around, but there’s only so much time you can spend in traffic jams before you end up wanting to get out of the car and viciously kill some other clown in a hybrid. Nothing against hybrids, but much against the obnoxious people who think that driving a hybrid makes them automatically better than everybody else. I mean I know that I’m better than the rest of them so why do they even bother trying?
I put all thoughts of Wayne out of my head as I park up. It’s not the first time that I’ve had a problem with Wayne, but usually it was because of some problem in the ring. The last time was when he teamed up with that putrid excuse for a human being King Kraig to become the World champion. Problems in the ring I can handle, but this was more than that. He had a problem because I admitted to having cravings again, because I admitted to not being as strong as I thought I was. And if he acts like that then how can I ever tell Alexa? I mean the last time we fell apart was because of the drinking and the drugs so how can I expect her to react any better this time?
I forget about all of that as I push open the door to the apartment to find Emily rushing around in the living room, dressed up in what I can only assume to be party gear.
Trace Demon: Going somewhere?
She looks up at me having not heard me enter. She looks like a mix of excitement and nerves which means that it’s definitely a party. That is unmistakably the expression of someone heading out to their first big city party. Now, how am I meant to handle this? Am I meant to be the hard ass who sets down a load of rules or do I just let her do her own thing? I mean I’ve been left to do my own thing all my life and I still can’t decide whether or not that was a good thing.
Having already listed the many things that have gone wrong with my life and with no signs of that stopping anytime soon, there’s a good chance it probably wasn’t.
Emily Hall: Um, just to a party with Callie.
She tells me it nervously, obviously expecting me to be gravely against even the idea of fun. If only she knew.
Trace Demon: Have I met Callie?
Emily Hall: No.
Alexa Monroe: Make sure he doesn’t if you want to keep her as a friend.
I turn to find Alexa walking out of the bedroom, probably having just put Eliza down for a nap. She’s grinning at me, and the happy expression on her face reminds me of the secret that I’m keeping from her.
Trace Demon: And what exactly does that mean?
Alexa Monroe: That you have an uncanny knack for making teenage girls fall in love with you.
To be fair, I am somewhat of a sex symbol for teenage girls, which sooner or later is probably going to get me in some very real trouble.
Trace Demon: Well I promise you that I have no intention of making your friend fall madly in love with me.
She lets out a little laugh, although I can tell it’s a little bit forced and she’s dying to ask me something.
Emily Hall: So?
Trace Demon: So what?
Emily Hall: Can I go?
Moment of truth. I look over to Alexa, giving that look that I’m really considering saying no not only because it’s fun but because I enjoy these brief moments – the moments of levity, where things feel normal. That little trip to the world where I don’t have to worry about relapsing or about going into one of the biggest matches of my life.
Alexa looks back at me, then just grins.
Alexa Monroe: Put the poor girl out of her misery.
I chuckle, Emily looking confused at the levity of it all.
Trace Demon: Of course you can go, just don’t be late in, alright?
Emily Hall: Thank you, thank you, thank you!
She shouts it like an excited little girl. I guess inside of this big bad city she is must feel like a child again, just gaining her footing inside of a whole new life.
Emily Hall: Okay, I’ll see you later!
She rushes off out of the door, a massive smile on her face. Warms your heart, doesn’t it?
Alexa Monroe: Well, I guess it’s just me and you tonight then.
Trace Demon: Actually…
She pouts at me, her nose wrinkling cutely.
Trace Demon: I need to go to the gym.
Alexa Monroe: Oh come on Trace, we’ve had no real time together in forever.
She walks over to me, placing her hands on my chest and looking up at me with the kind of eyes that you just feel bad saying no to. I wrap my arms around her waist and plant a kiss on her forehead.
Trace Demon: Any other time you know I would, but I’ve got to train for this match. I mean I’m already putting off the Vegas trip until the last minute as it is.
Usually I’d jet out for a show this big as soon as I possibly could. I’d hit the local gyms every hour of every day, check out the arena, run the ropes a few times in the days building up to things. Make sure that I’m ready. But with Eliza and Emily and everything going on with the cravings I figured that going to the city of sin of all places would not be the best idea.
Alexa Monroe: Fine.
She puts on that fake annoyed tone that only a woman can do, drawing a proper kiss from me this time.
Trace Demon: I’ll come back as soon I’m finished, alright?
Alexa Monroe: You’d better.
< *** >
I can’t believe he said yes. I mean I’ve gotten so used to sneaking out of the house to go to any kind of party that I was fully expecting a no but he said yes! Thank god, because I had no idea how I was going to sneak out of the apartment. It’s not like I could push the window up and just climb out that way, not like at my grandmother’s, not unless I wanted to try and scale down four floors down the side of a wall which, quite frankly, I don’t think would be that easy in heels.
I wonder if he’d have acted any different if I told him that I was going because of a girl. I still haven’t told him that I… well, that I go that way. In my entire life I’ve only ever told three people. One of them was a girl that I was seeing who wanted to keep it a secret because her father just so happened to be a minister, the other was a girl I was in love with who outright rejected me and hasn’t even tried calling me since, and the third was my grandmother who… well, I’d rather not talk about that.
Callie Jones: Hey girl!
Callie greets me enthusiastically as I turn up outside of the café where I first met her working. She looks amazing. I mean, she was amazing before but when she’s showing off her toned stomach and amazingly long legs it’s just like… damn, now I know why guys always seem to be perving on girls all of the time, because sometimes you just can’t help yourself. She hugs me as I reach her, her perfume flooding my senses.
Callie Jones: I’m so glad you could come, excited?
Emily Hall: Sure.
She giggles and I get the feeling that my attempt to sound like this is just an everyday situation goes down a little bit more like “oh my god what is going on”. To be honest this isn’t your everyday situation. This isn’t a little suburban party where you have to keep the noise down so that the neighbours don’t hear you. This is an LA party, the kind of thing I thought I’d only ever see on television on all of those glossy tv shows. But here I am, about to go to one with an amazingly hot girl.
I could die happy right here.
Callie Jones: This is my friend Tomas, he’s giving us a ride.
Tomas Deeks: Hey, nice to meet you.
My eyes are drawn to a tall handsome boy who has to be a few years older than both myself and Callie. He’s the kind of guy that most girls would fall for instantly – tall, classic LA good looks, amazing hair, and that’s coming from a gay girl so you know he’s hot.
Emily Hall: You too.
I can’t help but get this feeling of goosebumps when he looks at me and not in a good way. It’s that feeling that you’re told to watch out for, the kind of feeling that tells you not to trust a guy. Maybe I’m just overreacting, overawed by the entire situation?
Tomas Deeks: So, we ready to go?
Callie Jones: Yeah, come on Callie, we’ll ride in the back.
Callie pulls the car door open and half drags me into the backseat beside her. Not like I’d argue against it anyway. As Tomas pushes the door closed behind us and climbs into the front seat Callie pulls a bottle of vodka out from behind the passenger’s seat, opens it and takes a swig. She cringes, then passes the bottle over to me. Usually I wouldn’t, I don’t want to get drunk around a bunch of people I don’t know in a house that I’ve got no idea how to get home from, but I don’t want to look bad in front of Callie so I take the bottle. I take a swig, letting the foul tasting spirit flood my every sense, burning as it rolls down my throat. I can’t help myself. I cringe.
Callie Jones: That’s my girl, Tomas, onwards!
Tomas starts the car up as Callie takes another swig of vodka. It’s going to be an interesting night.
< *** >
I never make it to the gym. I stop midway, my attention drawn away from the sensible task at hand to something that’s equally as familiar but far more out of bounds.
King’s Bar.
It’s a place that I’ve spent far too many nights in in the past, a place that I probably single handily funded for a good year before I quit drinking. I pass by it every day on the way to the gym and I never give it a second glance, but ever since that meeting with Pierce’s suit I can’t go past it without wanting to stop. But I’ve fought through, continued on, ignored it as best as I possibly could.
Not tonight.
Before I know what’s happening I’ve parked up and am already inside, taking the booth that I sat at all those times before, drinking the day away. I find myself fidgeting, unable to get comfortable. The smell of drifts throughout the bar, filling my nostrils with the smell that I have cherished time and time again. The bar’s fairly busy for this part of town, a mix of old and young. The older patrons are mostly old, grizzled veterans of King’s, the majority of which have awesome beards. The young are fresh out of college students, probably all getting ready for some party. I notice a few glances from the girls but I’m not in the mood to flash the pearly whites or give them a heart melting wink. Not right now.
Only real men can grow beards by the way. That’s why Drakz and Elias only have those paedophile moustaches of theirs. I’d grow a beard myself, but have you tried wrestling with one? It makes a headlock far too weird.
Barmaid: Anything I can get you handsome?
The barmaid’s hot stuff. Blonde, mid-twenties, big bust and long legs. The fact that she’s working here tells me that there’s a good choice that the girl has daddy issues which would make her an easy pull if I was looking. A job like this requires flirting with even the oldest of the old just to get a tip. Good thing I came along so she could be sincere at least once tonight.
Ari Teague: He’ll take a glass of Johnny Walker Blue, neat.
The barmaid nods and saunters off to the bar, Ari taking the seat opposite me.
Trace Demon: Didn’t see you when I came in.
I’ve got a lot of history with Ari. We’ve spent many a day drinking. In here, at a club, in her bed. You know, all the usual places that you might enjoy a good drink. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’ve never had a real conversation with her sober.
Ari Teague: Ah, but I saw you. That’s all that matters.
She flashes me a seductive grin. Everything about Ari is seductive. Her perfectly red lips, her deep blue eyes, her blonde hair with the purple streaks. Her incredibly supple… okay, I’m going into this a little too much.
Ari Teague: So, last time I saw you you’d gotten boring, gone all teetotal on me.
Trace Demon: Well, I’ve done everything else on you, why not that?
That was too crude even for me. Still, Ari giggles, leaning on the table with her head in her knuckles, her arms pushing her chest out, accentuating two of her very best assets.
Ari Teague: So if you’ve quit, why’re you here?
Trace Demon: When I figure out the answer to that question, I’ll let you know.
The barmaid walks back over to the table, placing a glass of whiskey in front of me. Johnny Walker Blue to be exact. Not a cheap whiskey at all, but certainly one of the best.
Ari Teague: That is your drink right?
Trace Demon: It was.
Ari Teague: And you don’t miss it?
Trace Demon: Never been one to worry about what I don’t have.
Truth is, it’s all I’ve been able to do not to drink in the past few weeks, the only thing really saving me from making that mistake being that I don’t keep alcohol around me. But not I’m here, what’s really stopping me? Alexa? Eliza? Emily? They’ll never know, not if I just have one. But then, I’ll know, I’ll know that I made this mistake and I know that I’ll never be able to take it back. The worst thing I could do right now is take that drink.
So why do I have the glass in my hand?
Ari Teague: Go on, I won’t tell anyone, and you know that it’ll taste oh so good.
She says it slowly, seductively, then subtly licks her lips afterwards. Not too much that you’d notice if she wasn’t sitting opposite you, but just enough that I can’t really miss it. She was always really good at that.
Trace Demon: You’re a bad influence, you know that?
Ari Teague: I’ve been told once or twice.
I roll the glass in my hand, letting the whiskey drift around the glass, letting the small drift into my pores, enthralling me with its aroma. And then I take a sip, and just like that it’s as if I’ve never been away.
< *** >
This. Is. Amazing.
That’s the only way to describe it. Amazing. Pure, utter amazeballs, and I don’t use a word like that lightly. I thought this was just meant to be some house party, a group of teenagers getting together and getting drunk, getting high, drinking and smoking and then going home and lying to their parents about it. I mean that’s what I’m used to. But it’s a hell of a lot more than that. It’s everything, it’s the world, it’s life itself. It’s people coming and going as they please, laughing and joking with sincere enjoyment instead of a forced attempt at replacing the hollowness inside of them.
This isn’t suburbia anymore.
Callie Jones: Here you go.
Callie hands me a red cup full of beer, another cliché made reality.
Callie Jones: So, what do you think?
Got to sound cool, got to show that I belong. Just sound cool Emily, just sound cool. Oh god, I’m talking to myself in my head, that’s not cool. And now I’m taking too long to answer, how long has it been? Minutes, hours? Probably not hours, but certainly too long to answer a question. Quick, just answer it.
And sound cool!
Emily Hall: It’s pretty cool.
God, that was so not cool.
Callie Jones: It is, isn’t it. Come on, let me introduce you.
In the next few minutes I’m dragged from one group of people to another, names and faces thrown at me in such quick succession that I’ll be lucky to remember one of them. Of course, with how much some of these people seem to be drinking I doubt they’ll remember me tomorrow either, so I guess we’re on equal ground.
Callie Jones: God, watch what you’re doing. Uh, boys!
We narrowly avoid being barrelled into by some idiot riding a unicycle through the house, which makes me take a double take on what I’m drinking. I mean I’ve heard that some crazy stuff goes down at house parties, but a unicycle seems a bit much.
This house is huge. I mean, I could see that when we were walking up to it, but it’s only when you get inside that you really see exactly how big it really is. I mean you could probably fit my gransmothers house into this sitting room and still have enough room for a swimming pool. Did I mention they have a swimming pool outside? I saw that when some guy leapt into it from the upstairs balcony. God, a balcony. When does it become less about having a nice house and more about showing off, and do they even care?
Callie Jones: Come on, let’s get another drink.
As the night goes on Callie says that repeatedly. Even after we finished the bottle of vodka in the drip here she seems intent on continuing. I try to match her and I’m pretty sure that I’m faring better than she is as the time ticks by.
Callie Jones: I’m so glad you came tonight Em.
She says it as we collapse onto a sofa in the giant sitting room. The party is still going on full swing around us, but Callie’s too out of it to keep going. She slurs her words as she speaks and her face is flushed. Even though she’s had far too much to drink I can’t help but find her beautiful.
Callie Jones: I mean it, so, so glad.
She grabs my hand in hers and I don’t even think about pulling them away. I thought I was coping with the drink fine but as the room starts spinning around me I have to re-evaluate that thought. My stomach does a back flip and I’m not sure whether it’s caused my Callie placing her head on my shoulder or the alcohol. Probably both.
Callie Jones: So gl...
She doesn’t finish the sentence, instead choosing to pass out on my shoulder. I don’t really know what to do here. Back home when Sarah would drink too much it was easy to take her home, but I don’t have any idea how to get home from here. The only thing I even know about this place is the address. Maybe I could call Trace and ask him to pick us up, but then I don’t really want him to see me like this. I know that he’s had his problems with drink and I don’t want to disappoint him.
Tomas Deeks: She looks out of it.
I look up. Tomas, Callie’s friend who gave us the ride here, stands over us. As soon as we got here he drifted off and this is the first I’ve seen of him since. Not difficult I guess, this house is huge.
Emily Hall: She’s had a few too many to drink.
Tomas Deeks: Yeah, she’ll do that every now and then. Girl works hard so she can play hard. Here, we should get her somewhere quiet.
He lifts Callie up effortlessly, holding her head in one arm and her legs in the other. I follow him upstairs, not wanting to leave Callie on her own in case she waits up. We end up going into a bedroom where Tomas lies her out on a large, plush bed.
Emily Hall: God, even their beds are amazing.
Tomas laughs.
Tomas Deeks: Yeah, wait until you sleep in one.
Emily Hall: I don’t see that happening any time soon.
Tomas Deeks: You never know.
He gives a little smirk which unsettles me. He seemed like a nice enough guy on the drive up but every time I looked I could have sworn that he’d just been staring at me through the wing mirror. Maybe it’s just the drink, maybe I’m just being paranoid.
Tomas Deeks: You want a drink?
He pulls a bottle of something out of his shirt pocket. It looks like a miniature bottle of vodka but I can’t really get a good look.
Emily Hall: No thanks, I’ve had more than enough.
Tomas Deeks: Oh come on, one more won’t hurt you.
Emily Hall: I said no.
He shrugs, but I can see that he’s annoyed. I decide that calling Trace and having him be disappointed in me is a lot better than staying here. I pull out my phone and start texting him, sending him the address and asking him to come and get me. I’m about to hit send.
Tomas Deeks: Who are you texting?
Emily Hall: Um, just my brother. I’m gonna get him to pick me up.
He walks up to me and goes to grab my phone out of my hand. I pull it away just in time and quickly add ‘911’ onto the text, hitting send before his second grab reaches my phone. He chucks it onto the bed.
Emily Hall: What the hell are you doing?
Tomas Deeks: Oh come on, you don’t want to go home yet. Just stay and hang for a bit.
Emily Hall: No, I’m going to go home.
I go to pick Callie up off of the bed, not comfortable about leaving her in here without me, but the door is knocked shut, Tomas standing in front of it.
Tomas Deeks: Come on, stay for one drink…
< *** >
One sip quickly becomes the entire glass, and that leads to me ordering a second. Ari joins in, quickly catching up by downing a shot of tequila before ordering a whiskey chaser. She always did like to drink hard. I feel guilt with every sip but I’m incapable of stopping, my body not accepting my brains message that this is a stupid thing to do, that I should just go home. But of course, with every sip by brain stops caring as much, and the guilt slowly starts to fade away into the ether.
Ari Teague: It’s like you’ve never been away.
But I have, and I should have stayed away, as far as humanly possible.
Trace Demon: Still can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.
Ari Teague: Oh come on. You used to be fun, they used to call you the life of the party.
Trace Demon: Who used to call me that?
Ari Teague: People.
Trace Demon: Please, I’d never hang around people who used the term life of the party.
She shakes her head and giggles, and I can’t help but laugh myself. But she’s right, I have missed this feeling. This feeling of invincibility, this feeling that nothing could go wrong, that everything I do is going to go right. Right now I feel like I could go and beat on the entire New Epoch with just a rubber duck.
Then again, that’s probably what the three of them get up to when they’re on their own anyway.
Ari Teague: Don’t you just want to feel alive again Trace? Just go and do whatever you want. Not be trapped by your family and all those people telling you not to do what you want?
Is that what I’ve been feeling? Trapped? By my family, my work? I mean I know that was one of the reasons that I finally gave up on all of the fans, because I was sick and tired of feeling trapped by them. Because I suddenly felt numb to everything that they were saying?
No. I love my family. I love Alexa, I love Eliza, I even love Faith and that knucklehead Axel. Even Emily. My family are the only thing that have been holding me together. So then why am I here? It can’t just be because I have an addiction. It can’t be. There has to be something that’s pulled me back, something more than just things getting on top of me. I’ve been under it all before in the last two years and I held.
Trace Demon: I feel alive.
Ari Teague: Really Trace, because you’re acting f*****g miserable.
Trace Demon: I think I lost what made me great.
Ari Teague: What? Don’t go getting all psychological on me now.
Trace Demon: Think about it. When I was destroying myself I didn’t care about anything, about anyone. And then I get sober and suddenly I care again, and since then life’s just been f*****g with me left and right. If I didn’t care, it wouldn’t get to me, if it didn’t get to me, I’d feel fine.
Ari Teague: So not caring made you great?
Trace Demon: How messed up is that?
Ari Teague: That’s pretty messed up, even for you.
So is that I want? To be hollow, to feel nothing?
Ari Teague: Look Trace…
Ari gets out of her seat, strutting over to me like she doesn’t have a care in the world, one long leg following the next. I go to move over, assuming that she was going to take the seat next to me, but she stops me with a hand of my chest. Then she lifts her one leg, placing it on the side of the seat next to me. Her other leg comes up on the other side so that she is literally straddling me in the middle of the bar, her hands pressed against the seat on either side of my head.
Ari Teague: I don’t care about whether you care or not, I just want to have fun, I want to enjoy life. I’m not looking for some grand revelation about the secrets of the world. So drink up.
She lifts the glass from the table to my lips, pouring the drink down me. I don’t resist. Then she lowers her lips to mine, kissing me passionately. Her tongue sneaks it’s way into my mouth and I just lose myself in the moment. For just this second there’s no Alexa, there’s no Eliza, there’s no Emily or Faith or Axel. There’s no Wayne or Scarlett. There’s no family problems or WFWF problems. No Drakz or Drake Elias to worry about.
There’s just me and the taste of whiskey on my lips.
My phone buzzes on the table and at first I’m going to ignore it, but I can just make out the name – Emily, and the number – 911. I push Ari off of me and onto the seat next to me, breaking the embrace.
Ari Teague: What are you doing?
I grab the phone and I’m on my feet instantly.
Ari Teague: I thought you wanted this?
Trace Demon: I don’t know what I want, but I know that right now this isn’t where I’m meant to be.
And right now… I still care.
< *** >
The next few minutes happen so far. Tomas there, standing in the doorway, insisting that everything was fine, that we were just having a drink, that there was no need to call anyone. I asked him to let me leave, but he said that I should stay, just have a drink with him, insisted. I didn’t want to argue with him, not there. I didn’t know what he’d do, what he was capable of.
I never did like drinking and driving, even when I was a mess of a human being. I mean it was the never the fear of dying that got to me, it was that knowledge that I could kill someone else. I hated that thought, that I could rip apart a family because of my stupidity, because I decided to ignore all of those warnings. So I just didn’t. I mean it’s not like I couldn’t afford to get taxi’s everywhere I went, and usually I’d end up passing out in the pace I was drinking in the first place. I never had the need to do it.
But there’s this sudden levity to a situation when you get a text like that. When you can just feel that something’s wrong. Emily wouldn’t send me a text with 911 in it unless it was actually an emergency, and the thought that my stupidity could hurt her overpowered everything that I’d ever decided upon.
I prayed that Trace would come, that he’d turn up and just sweep us out of there. I didn’t care what he’d do to Tomas, I just wanted to be away from him. It was obvious that this wasn’t right, that normal people didn’t do this, that he didn’t just want to sit and drink. I cursed myself for ever going to the party in the first placed, wished that Trace had said no. Anything would be better than this, sitting in a room having a drink with a man who wouldn’t let me just leave. I knew I should have screamed, but the music outside was blaring and there hadn’t been anyone else up here when we brought Callie up, so nobody would have heard us and it would have only pissed him off.
I didn’t think much in the car. I couldn’t. I could still taste the whiskey at the back of my throat and Ari’s lips on my own. What was I going to tell Alexa? She’d care more about the fact that I’d been drinking than that I’d kissed Ari, because the one predicates the other. I couldn’t lose her, I couldn’t. It would end me, it would destroy everything that I’d built. But at the same time, I knew that I didn’t deserve her. I’d betrayed her trust, betrayed every word that I’d said to her when we got back together, when I pledged to never touch another drop, when I promised never to pop another pill.
What would I have left then?
I drank the drink, slowly, trying to draw it out. He was speaking but I didn’t hear any of the words. I just focused on finding a way out of there. What if Trace wasn’t here on time? What was Tomas going to do? My thoughts turned to Callie, passed out on the bed. If I managed to get away then what he do to her? I had to stay, to find some way of getting us both out of there. Maybe Tomas really did just want to drink, maybe he’d had a few too many and he thought this was normal behaviour?
There was a lot of maybe’s.
I pulled up at the address that Emily had sent me. Some massive house out on the outskirts of the city centre about ten minutes away from the bar. There were cars all over the place, music blaring from inside. Kids out the front of the house, drinking. This was definitely the place. Whatever party Emily had been invited to had turned into a serious rager. In any other situation I’d have stuck around, but this wasn’t any other situation. This was about Emily.
Tomas tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away, telling him that I wasn’t interested, that I just wanted to go home. He didn’t want to hear that. He just kept going, trying to kiss me, running his hands up my leg. I screamed, shouted for someone, but nobody came. I tried pushing him off of me but he was heavier, stronger, pushing me down onto the floor, trying to pull my skirt up. Tears ran down my face. I screamed.
The house looked like a disaster zone. Teenagers screaming and shouting, off of their faces on drink and who knows what else. Drinking far more than they could handle. Rookie mistake of course, but not one that people ever grow out of. I tried asking around, to find out if anybody had seen her, but either they didn’t have any idea who I was talking about or they just didn’t have a clue that someone was talking to them. No sign of her downstairs.
But then a scream, faint, from upstairs.
He’s bearing down on me, his hand reaching up my skirt, when the door suddenly bursts open and he’s yanked off of me and to the floor. It takes me a few moments to realize who it is – Trace. I back up, leaning against the wall, just watching as he drives his fist into Tomas’s face over and over again. I scream at him to stop, and he does. Tomas spits up blood, his face mashed up from where Trace hit him.
Blood on my knuckles and alcohol on my breath.
Just like old times.
< *** >
Alexa Monroe: You’ve been drinking.
It takes all of five minutes in the house for her to figure it out. It doesn’t surprise me, she always did notice the signs whether I’d have four or forty. She doesn’t focus on it though, not immediately, her priority is making sure that Emily is okay. I called her on the way back, Emily and her passed out friend in my backseat. The boys blood is still on my knuckles, a stark reminder of what I’ve done. He won’t report me, I know that much about people in his situation, but that doesn’t mean that there won’t be repercussions. From Emily… from Alexa.
Alexa took Emily and the friend, Callie was it, into her room to try and get some sleep as I wash the blood away. I take a swig of water, trying to rinse the taste of alcohol from my mouth. It doesn’t go, just sticks around as a reminder of my stupidity.
Alexa Monroe: She’s in bed.
Trace Demon: How is she?
Alexa Monroe: Shook up, I think she’ll be alright though.
There’s a pause, one that I don’t want to ever end because I know what’s coming. When I was a kid I always thought that being able to turn back time would be the perfect superpower. The ability to go back and change your mistakes, to stop all the bad stuff happening. I’ve never wanted that power more than right now.
Alexa Monroe: How long?
I don’t answer, hurt more that she could think that I’ve been drinking behind her back for any extended period of time.
Alexa Monroe: Trace…
Trace Demon: It was just this once.
Alexa Monroe: Why? Why now?
Trace Demon: I don’t know.
Alexa Monroe: You don’t know?
Trace Demon: No, I don’t know. It just sort of… happened. I was going to the gym and then I was just kind of there.
Alexa Monroe: Just kind of there? No Trace, you don’t just end up at a bar, not after all this time. I’m not going to sit by and watch you destroy your life again, I can’t do it.
Silence again, but this time it’s one that has to be broken.
Trace Demon: What are you saying?
Alexa Monroe: I’m saying that I can’t be around you right now. Go and stay with Wayne or something, I just, I can’t have you here. I just can’t.
Trace Demon: I’m so sorry…
She knows. She doesn’t say anything, but she knows. But it isn’t good enough. It’s never going to be good enough. I’ve broken her trust and I’ve broken her heart. I can’t go to Wayne’s, and I don’t want to admit to Faith or Axel that I’ve fallen off the wagon. Which leaves only one place.
Viva Las Vegas…
”Finally, in conclusion, let me just say this.”
- Peter Sellers
I’ve made mistakes. I’ve made a lot of them. But after twenty four years upon this Earth you would think that I’d at least have figured out that when I see a mistake coming I’d get out of the way, I’d find some kind of diversion and go in the opposite direction. I mean that’s what preventative measures are all about, right? I’ve prided myself in the past two years on my preventative measures. That’s what you have to do when you’re a recovering addict, spot every little thing that could lead you to a relapse and ensure that it isn’t a problem ahead of time. There’s a good chance that is the only way that I’ve gotten through these past two years, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Clean is clean, sober is sober, alive is alive.
But then you get too comfortable, you start to feel like you’ve got everything under control. And that is when you slip, that is when you stop paying attention to the tiny things around you. You start to believe your own hype and then you just screw everything up. You can only take preventative measures if you can see the problem in front of you after all and when you stop paying attention… well, ‘right now’ measures don’t really sound as great, do they? You see, I became so sure of myself, so assured that I had kicked the bug, that I just stopped worrying about it. I took risks that I shouldn’t have taken, believing that I could l could beat the world.
But you can’t, you can’t beat the world. Because like myself it always has a trick up its sleeve. Unlike myself however it’s sleeves never ends, and it never runs out of tricks. Just when you’ve think you’ve managed it it kicks you in your ass and laughs in your face, you know, just like any woman does with Yukio Blaze.
Sorry, are the Yukio Blaze jokes getting old yet? No? Good, because I’ve got a lot of them.
I’ve been believing my own hype for years now, ever since I won the WFWF World Championship all that time ago. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized what an idiot I had been, what a pathetic champion I had proven to be. The best of a bad lot. That’s nothing to be proud of, that’s nothing to brag about, but proud I was and brag I did. And that spread into my personal life, I believed that I suddenly had control of everything. I was confident, self-assured, thinking that no matter what happened, be it in the ring or outside of it, I could manage it and remain smiling.
But then it all came crashing down around me, piece by piece.
I started losing to these pathetic, no name rookies, people who shouldn’t have been able to shine by boots. At first I thought it was nothing, that it was just a phase, that any week I’d just turn up and suddenly be the great Trace Demon I always thought I had been. But that didn’t happen, I just kept racking up the losses, falling down the card, becoming less and less relevant. And it wasn’t just in the ring. Things outside of it started spiralling out of control. Suddenly I was a father, then my mother died, then I found out I had a half-sister that I never knew about. The latest is that they now want me to adopt that half-sister and I’ve only got a few weeks to decide.
F*****g life eh, always trying to mess you up.
But you see, everything was just crashing down around me, and I had to make a choice. My own problems or my career. Part of me knew that whichever one I chose the other one would inevitably suffer, that I could only manage to save one of them. But as you may have gathered by now, at the time I thought I was god, I thought I had everything under control and that no matter what I did everything was going to be alright. So I chose my career, because if there’s one thing I was sure of it was my ability to hold my own head together.
F*****g ego.
And at first, I thought it was working, I thought that I’d done it. The wins started racking up, I got a brand new contract, a second shot at the International championship… another shot at Drakz… it was all so perfect. But it wasn’t. Because the cravings started. I’d been pushing it to the back of my mind for months now, pretending that I was fine, telling myself that it was normal, that I could get by. But I skipped meeting after meeting, choosing everything else over it. And they just wouldn’t go away.
I believed my own hype, and it came back to screw me.
A woman, brunette, mid-forties, knocks on the car window. Behind her stands the local community centre. Today there will be a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and this woman is the one running it. She’ll stand there and tell the people about herself, about how when she was twenty years younger she sold her body for drugs, and they’ll listen, because that’s what Narcotics Anonymous is all about. Sitting and listening, telling each other about their lives because that’s what you need to do. You need to tell people about what you’re going through without the fear that they’ll judge you.
That’s what I need.
I roll down the window.
Woman: Will you be joining us today?
Trace Demon: No, I was just dropping somebody off.
Woman: I didn’t see anyone get out of your car.
She’s trying to help, to coax me in, thinking that I haven’t got the courage to just walk in.
Truth is, I don’t know if I do anymore.
Trace Demon: I didn’t see the Titanic sink, pretty sure it happened.
I don’t care that even my jokes are getting worse. I just want her judgmental eyes to get out of my personal space. Thankfully, I’m the one in the car and it’s an easy task to up the window and to turn the key. Whatever attempt at convincing me to go in falls as flat as Drake’s girlfriends rack as the engine drowns her out.
You might be wondering why I’ve been telling you all this crap about how believing my own hype has slowly but surely been destroying every little aspect of my existence. Because the thing is, I don’t believe it anymore. I know that I’m not the guaranteed victor, I know that I can’t just enter that ring and win every match. I’m not lying to myself anymore.
And that’s a problem for you Drakz. That’s a problem for little Drake Elias. Because now that I know I can’t just coast along. I know that as my personal life falls apart around me that that ring is all I’ve got. And that’s why I’m working harder than ever, planning more than ever, doing everything that I can to ensure victory.
Vegas can’t come soon enough. I’ve got an itch to scratch.
< *** >
Missing a dozen calls from Wayne isn’t really a problem for me. And by miss, I of course mean ignore. God, I sound like a stupid teenager when I say that, ignoring someone’s calls because I know that I don’t want to hear what they have to say. And I guess that’s part of it, the other part being how much I just don’t want to speak to him about what I know he wants to speak about. The other part of course is that I admitted to Wayne about my cravings coming back and that since I showed up for the show he already knows that I didn’t take his advice to skip it and go to a meeting. I guess I won’t tell him about skipping out on another meeting this morning then.
But as I was saying, missing a dozen calls from Wayne isn’t really a problem. What is a problem is missing a call from Vanessa.
That b***h is crazy.
So that’s why I’m heading over to their place right now, because Vanessa called me and told me to. It sounds like I’m whipped when I say it like that. F**k, can you be whipped by someone else’s wife? Do I really want to even think about that? No, I’m just gonna sweep it under the rug with all the other secrets I’m keeping right now.
Because that’s been working so well for me the past few weeks.
I don’t bother to wait for someone to let me into the house after I knock, instead just choosing to let myself in. It’s not breaking and entering if you’ve been summoned over by the wicked witch of the WFWF.
Don’t tell her I said that.
Trace Demon: Wayne, Vanessa, you home?
Vanessa McGurk: Kitchen!
I follow the shout into the McGurk’s kitchen where Vanessa is chopping up vegetables. With her back turned to me I can’t help but steal a glimpse at her peachy ass in her little leather shorts.
Trace Demon: You wearing them specially for me Ness?
She turns, giving me that eyebrow raised smirk that she wears so well.
Vanessa McGurk: You breaking into other people’s houses now?
Trace Demon: If you didn’t want me walking in then you shouldn’t have left the door open.
Vanessa McGurk: Oh, yes, of course, how stupid of me.
She lays the sarcasm on so thick that even a deaf person would be able to figure it out just from the body language. She turns back to cutting up the vegetables and I get in close, close enough to smell the perfume on her neck. I playfully whisper into her ear.
Trace Demon: You didn’t answer my question.
Vanessa McGurk: Don’t flatter yourself. Now get back before I cut your c**k off.
I laugh, grabbing an apple from the side by her hand and throw it in the air as I back away, taking a bite out of it as I lean against the opposite table top.
Trace Demon: You kiss Wayne with that mouth?
She puts the knife down and turns to face me, trying to hide a grin. She might not want to admit it but she loves these playful little meetings of ours.
Vanessa McGurk: I do other things to.
She winks at me and I burst out into laughter again. She lets out a little chuckle of her own. I take another bite out of the apple, cherishing the fruits liquid as it runs down my throat. I’ve found that fruit is one of the only things that can take my mind off of my cravings for just a few moments. They’re like… well, they’re like a drug.
Trace Demon: So, where’s Wayne?
Vanessa McGurk: He’s just been at the gym.
There’s a recurring trend with Wayne that when he’s pissed with someone he always ends up going to the gym.
Vanessa McGurk: He’ll be back any minute now. He’s pissed with you y’know.
See, told you, the gym means he’s pissed, and not the fun kind.
Trace Demon: I kind of figured.
Vanessa McGurk: I mean what were you thinking?
Trace Demon: The general consensus is that I’m never thinking.
Vanessa McGurk: That would make sense of a lot of things.
Believe it or not but I like Vanessa. She’s sarcastic, feisty and exhudes confidence. I mean she’s not the kind of woman that I’d ever spend more than a day with because she doesn’t take any crap and I give a lot of crap, but she’s a good laugh when she’s in a good mood. Vanessa being in a good mood is rare, but it’s fun when you can get it.
I hear the door slam and I know that here comes one person who isn’t in a good mood.
Wayne McGurk: Trace!
Vanessa McGurk: You have fun now.
She winks at me and returns to her vegetables. Oh yeah, she wants me. I take another sneak peek at that perky ass (come on, I’m only human) and then walk off into the sitting room where Wayne stands in his gym gear. He’s still sweating, which means he went hard at the gym. The harder he went the more pissed off he tends to be so this one’s got to be at least a seven on the McGurk pissed off scale. I’m saving a ten for when he hears Scarlett’s virginity story.
Trace Demon: I’m warning you right now, I’m not gonna be able to take you seriously in your gym shorts.
Wayne McGurk: You’ve always got to make jokes, don’t you?
Trace Demon: Alexa thinks it’s a defence mechanism to stop me from connecting with anyone emotionally.
He shakes his head and I’m sure that if it wasn’t ridiculously overplayed by just about everybody nowadays he’d be standing there slack jawed. Thankfully he’s not, because usually I only get that reaction from women when I pull down my… you know what, I’m going to leave that one for another day.
Wayne McGurk: What were you thinking?
Trace Demon: You know, I feel like I’m getting asked that question a lot recently.
Wayne McGurk: It’s a good question!
I can tell that my constant witty humour is breaking him down. I’m like a child, both in the way that I don’t think about the consequences of my actions and that you just can’t stay mad at me for long.
Trace Demon: Look, I’ve done nothing to receive such a hostile welcome.
Wayne McGurk: My daughter kicked a hippie in the head.
That’s got to be the headline of one of those really bad self-help shows. You know the ones - the ones where they don’t actually help anybody, they just bait them into making complete idiots of themselves. Drakz has probably been on at least a few episodes. ‘My daughter kicked a hippie in the head’… I’d watch that episode.
Trace Demon: I didn’t tell her to do that. In fact I’m very much against the abuse of hippies.
They make some really good weed and even though I don’t smoke it anymore, it’s a comfort knowing that future generations get to enjoy it.
Wayne McGurk: You beat the same guy up literally minutes before.
He’s got me there.
Trace Demon: Yeah, but that was about proving a point.
Wayne McGurk: That is exactly my problem. Scarlett’s been watching you…
Trace Demon: Well that’s just creepy. Flattering but…
His glare cuts me off. He might not pull it out of the bag as often but he and Vanessa have the exact same slightly terrifying glare that just tells you that s**t is about to go down. I have this theory that Wayne and Vanessa just sit down in this sitting room and have glaring contests. Then I stop thinking about it because the image is far scarier than it ought to be.
I signal for him to continue. I mean he’d have done it anyway, but this way I at least feel a little bit in power.
Wayne McGurk: I asked you to help me train her, not for her to become you. I mean you’re a good friend Trace, and you’re a great wrestler, but you’re a piss poor decision maker.
I’d like to argue against that one, but really if you’ve known me for more than five minutes you’ll know that Wayne is very much on the money with his declaration of my incompetence.
Trace Demon: You asked me to train her Wayne. I can’t control what she does. She’s old enough to decide if she wants to kick a hippy in the head, alright? I mean come on Wayne, look at all the crazy s**t you’ve done in the name of wrestling.
I don’t think I can say the words ‘kick a hippy in the head’ enough times today.
Wayne McGurk: I don’t want her to be like me Trace, I don’t want her to go about putting cigarettes out in people’s eyes, screwing people over, that’s not the kind of daughter that I want.
Trace Demon: That’s what this business does to people. You know it, Vanessa knows it, I know it and hell, Scarlett knows it. She’s been around the WFWF her entire life and quite frankly you can’t shield a kid from half the crazy stuff that happens out there. Why don’t you tell me the real problem here Wayne?
Wayne McGurk: What?
Trace Demon: Oh come on. You know that this kick a hippy in the head thing is just part of your problem. I mean sure, I get not wanting Scarlett to be the type of woman who is willing to stab people in the back to get by, but you wouldn’t have asked me to help you train her if you weren’t at least prepared for something like this to happen. I mean stabbing people in the back has kind of been my thing for a while now. So just tell me, what the hell is your problem?
Wayne McGurk: I don’t trust you!
Silence rears its ugly head, filling up the room like a lingering darkness, embracing everything that it touches.
Trace Demon: Why even ask me to train her if you don’t trust me?
Wayne McGurk: Because that was before…
He’s quiet now, a far cry from the pissed off amped up Wayne of moments ago.
Trace Demon: Before I told you about the cravings coming back.
His head lowers guiltily, but the fact that he’s guilty over this doesn’t change what he said. I always thought that Wayne was the one guy I could trust, the one guy who understood what I was going through. But as it turns out he’s just like the rest of them. Judgmental, pathetic, your run of the mill bunghole.
Wayne McGurk: Look, it’s not that I don’t…
Trace Demon: Just shut up Wayne.
Usually I’d shout, I’d roar and I’d put up a fight. But I just… can’t. I’m tired of it all, tired of the fighting, tired of arguments, tired of it all.
I just want to… give in.
Wayne McGurk: I’m…
Trace Demon: Don’t bother. I’ll train Scarlett, because she’s a good kid and she’s got potential. But you… you can f**k off.
I don’t listen to whatever crap he has to say. I just make my exit.
< *** >
I end up spending most of the day driving around, but there’s only so much time you can spend in traffic jams before you end up wanting to get out of the car and viciously kill some other clown in a hybrid. Nothing against hybrids, but much against the obnoxious people who think that driving a hybrid makes them automatically better than everybody else. I mean I know that I’m better than the rest of them so why do they even bother trying?
I put all thoughts of Wayne out of my head as I park up. It’s not the first time that I’ve had a problem with Wayne, but usually it was because of some problem in the ring. The last time was when he teamed up with that putrid excuse for a human being King Kraig to become the World champion. Problems in the ring I can handle, but this was more than that. He had a problem because I admitted to having cravings again, because I admitted to not being as strong as I thought I was. And if he acts like that then how can I ever tell Alexa? I mean the last time we fell apart was because of the drinking and the drugs so how can I expect her to react any better this time?
I forget about all of that as I push open the door to the apartment to find Emily rushing around in the living room, dressed up in what I can only assume to be party gear.
Trace Demon: Going somewhere?
She looks up at me having not heard me enter. She looks like a mix of excitement and nerves which means that it’s definitely a party. That is unmistakably the expression of someone heading out to their first big city party. Now, how am I meant to handle this? Am I meant to be the hard ass who sets down a load of rules or do I just let her do her own thing? I mean I’ve been left to do my own thing all my life and I still can’t decide whether or not that was a good thing.
Having already listed the many things that have gone wrong with my life and with no signs of that stopping anytime soon, there’s a good chance it probably wasn’t.
Emily Hall: Um, just to a party with Callie.
She tells me it nervously, obviously expecting me to be gravely against even the idea of fun. If only she knew.
Trace Demon: Have I met Callie?
Emily Hall: No.
Alexa Monroe: Make sure he doesn’t if you want to keep her as a friend.
I turn to find Alexa walking out of the bedroom, probably having just put Eliza down for a nap. She’s grinning at me, and the happy expression on her face reminds me of the secret that I’m keeping from her.
Trace Demon: And what exactly does that mean?
Alexa Monroe: That you have an uncanny knack for making teenage girls fall in love with you.
To be fair, I am somewhat of a sex symbol for teenage girls, which sooner or later is probably going to get me in some very real trouble.
Trace Demon: Well I promise you that I have no intention of making your friend fall madly in love with me.
She lets out a little laugh, although I can tell it’s a little bit forced and she’s dying to ask me something.
Emily Hall: So?
Trace Demon: So what?
Emily Hall: Can I go?
Moment of truth. I look over to Alexa, giving that look that I’m really considering saying no not only because it’s fun but because I enjoy these brief moments – the moments of levity, where things feel normal. That little trip to the world where I don’t have to worry about relapsing or about going into one of the biggest matches of my life.
Alexa looks back at me, then just grins.
Alexa Monroe: Put the poor girl out of her misery.
I chuckle, Emily looking confused at the levity of it all.
Trace Demon: Of course you can go, just don’t be late in, alright?
Emily Hall: Thank you, thank you, thank you!
She shouts it like an excited little girl. I guess inside of this big bad city she is must feel like a child again, just gaining her footing inside of a whole new life.
Emily Hall: Okay, I’ll see you later!
She rushes off out of the door, a massive smile on her face. Warms your heart, doesn’t it?
Alexa Monroe: Well, I guess it’s just me and you tonight then.
Trace Demon: Actually…
She pouts at me, her nose wrinkling cutely.
Trace Demon: I need to go to the gym.
Alexa Monroe: Oh come on Trace, we’ve had no real time together in forever.
She walks over to me, placing her hands on my chest and looking up at me with the kind of eyes that you just feel bad saying no to. I wrap my arms around her waist and plant a kiss on her forehead.
Trace Demon: Any other time you know I would, but I’ve got to train for this match. I mean I’m already putting off the Vegas trip until the last minute as it is.
Usually I’d jet out for a show this big as soon as I possibly could. I’d hit the local gyms every hour of every day, check out the arena, run the ropes a few times in the days building up to things. Make sure that I’m ready. But with Eliza and Emily and everything going on with the cravings I figured that going to the city of sin of all places would not be the best idea.
Alexa Monroe: Fine.
She puts on that fake annoyed tone that only a woman can do, drawing a proper kiss from me this time.
Trace Demon: I’ll come back as soon I’m finished, alright?
Alexa Monroe: You’d better.
< *** >
I can’t believe he said yes. I mean I’ve gotten so used to sneaking out of the house to go to any kind of party that I was fully expecting a no but he said yes! Thank god, because I had no idea how I was going to sneak out of the apartment. It’s not like I could push the window up and just climb out that way, not like at my grandmother’s, not unless I wanted to try and scale down four floors down the side of a wall which, quite frankly, I don’t think would be that easy in heels.
I wonder if he’d have acted any different if I told him that I was going because of a girl. I still haven’t told him that I… well, that I go that way. In my entire life I’ve only ever told three people. One of them was a girl that I was seeing who wanted to keep it a secret because her father just so happened to be a minister, the other was a girl I was in love with who outright rejected me and hasn’t even tried calling me since, and the third was my grandmother who… well, I’d rather not talk about that.
Callie Jones: Hey girl!
Callie greets me enthusiastically as I turn up outside of the café where I first met her working. She looks amazing. I mean, she was amazing before but when she’s showing off her toned stomach and amazingly long legs it’s just like… damn, now I know why guys always seem to be perving on girls all of the time, because sometimes you just can’t help yourself. She hugs me as I reach her, her perfume flooding my senses.
Callie Jones: I’m so glad you could come, excited?
Emily Hall: Sure.
She giggles and I get the feeling that my attempt to sound like this is just an everyday situation goes down a little bit more like “oh my god what is going on”. To be honest this isn’t your everyday situation. This isn’t a little suburban party where you have to keep the noise down so that the neighbours don’t hear you. This is an LA party, the kind of thing I thought I’d only ever see on television on all of those glossy tv shows. But here I am, about to go to one with an amazingly hot girl.
I could die happy right here.
Callie Jones: This is my friend Tomas, he’s giving us a ride.
Tomas Deeks: Hey, nice to meet you.
My eyes are drawn to a tall handsome boy who has to be a few years older than both myself and Callie. He’s the kind of guy that most girls would fall for instantly – tall, classic LA good looks, amazing hair, and that’s coming from a gay girl so you know he’s hot.
Emily Hall: You too.
I can’t help but get this feeling of goosebumps when he looks at me and not in a good way. It’s that feeling that you’re told to watch out for, the kind of feeling that tells you not to trust a guy. Maybe I’m just overreacting, overawed by the entire situation?
Tomas Deeks: So, we ready to go?
Callie Jones: Yeah, come on Callie, we’ll ride in the back.
Callie pulls the car door open and half drags me into the backseat beside her. Not like I’d argue against it anyway. As Tomas pushes the door closed behind us and climbs into the front seat Callie pulls a bottle of vodka out from behind the passenger’s seat, opens it and takes a swig. She cringes, then passes the bottle over to me. Usually I wouldn’t, I don’t want to get drunk around a bunch of people I don’t know in a house that I’ve got no idea how to get home from, but I don’t want to look bad in front of Callie so I take the bottle. I take a swig, letting the foul tasting spirit flood my every sense, burning as it rolls down my throat. I can’t help myself. I cringe.
Callie Jones: That’s my girl, Tomas, onwards!
Tomas starts the car up as Callie takes another swig of vodka. It’s going to be an interesting night.
< *** >
I never make it to the gym. I stop midway, my attention drawn away from the sensible task at hand to something that’s equally as familiar but far more out of bounds.
King’s Bar.
It’s a place that I’ve spent far too many nights in in the past, a place that I probably single handily funded for a good year before I quit drinking. I pass by it every day on the way to the gym and I never give it a second glance, but ever since that meeting with Pierce’s suit I can’t go past it without wanting to stop. But I’ve fought through, continued on, ignored it as best as I possibly could.
Not tonight.
Before I know what’s happening I’ve parked up and am already inside, taking the booth that I sat at all those times before, drinking the day away. I find myself fidgeting, unable to get comfortable. The smell of drifts throughout the bar, filling my nostrils with the smell that I have cherished time and time again. The bar’s fairly busy for this part of town, a mix of old and young. The older patrons are mostly old, grizzled veterans of King’s, the majority of which have awesome beards. The young are fresh out of college students, probably all getting ready for some party. I notice a few glances from the girls but I’m not in the mood to flash the pearly whites or give them a heart melting wink. Not right now.
Only real men can grow beards by the way. That’s why Drakz and Elias only have those paedophile moustaches of theirs. I’d grow a beard myself, but have you tried wrestling with one? It makes a headlock far too weird.
Barmaid: Anything I can get you handsome?
The barmaid’s hot stuff. Blonde, mid-twenties, big bust and long legs. The fact that she’s working here tells me that there’s a good choice that the girl has daddy issues which would make her an easy pull if I was looking. A job like this requires flirting with even the oldest of the old just to get a tip. Good thing I came along so she could be sincere at least once tonight.
Ari Teague: He’ll take a glass of Johnny Walker Blue, neat.
The barmaid nods and saunters off to the bar, Ari taking the seat opposite me.
Trace Demon: Didn’t see you when I came in.
I’ve got a lot of history with Ari. We’ve spent many a day drinking. In here, at a club, in her bed. You know, all the usual places that you might enjoy a good drink. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’ve never had a real conversation with her sober.
Ari Teague: Ah, but I saw you. That’s all that matters.
She flashes me a seductive grin. Everything about Ari is seductive. Her perfectly red lips, her deep blue eyes, her blonde hair with the purple streaks. Her incredibly supple… okay, I’m going into this a little too much.
Ari Teague: So, last time I saw you you’d gotten boring, gone all teetotal on me.
Trace Demon: Well, I’ve done everything else on you, why not that?
That was too crude even for me. Still, Ari giggles, leaning on the table with her head in her knuckles, her arms pushing her chest out, accentuating two of her very best assets.
Ari Teague: So if you’ve quit, why’re you here?
Trace Demon: When I figure out the answer to that question, I’ll let you know.
The barmaid walks back over to the table, placing a glass of whiskey in front of me. Johnny Walker Blue to be exact. Not a cheap whiskey at all, but certainly one of the best.
Ari Teague: That is your drink right?
Trace Demon: It was.
Ari Teague: And you don’t miss it?
Trace Demon: Never been one to worry about what I don’t have.
Truth is, it’s all I’ve been able to do not to drink in the past few weeks, the only thing really saving me from making that mistake being that I don’t keep alcohol around me. But not I’m here, what’s really stopping me? Alexa? Eliza? Emily? They’ll never know, not if I just have one. But then, I’ll know, I’ll know that I made this mistake and I know that I’ll never be able to take it back. The worst thing I could do right now is take that drink.
So why do I have the glass in my hand?
Ari Teague: Go on, I won’t tell anyone, and you know that it’ll taste oh so good.
She says it slowly, seductively, then subtly licks her lips afterwards. Not too much that you’d notice if she wasn’t sitting opposite you, but just enough that I can’t really miss it. She was always really good at that.
Trace Demon: You’re a bad influence, you know that?
Ari Teague: I’ve been told once or twice.
I roll the glass in my hand, letting the whiskey drift around the glass, letting the small drift into my pores, enthralling me with its aroma. And then I take a sip, and just like that it’s as if I’ve never been away.
< *** >
This. Is. Amazing.
That’s the only way to describe it. Amazing. Pure, utter amazeballs, and I don’t use a word like that lightly. I thought this was just meant to be some house party, a group of teenagers getting together and getting drunk, getting high, drinking and smoking and then going home and lying to their parents about it. I mean that’s what I’m used to. But it’s a hell of a lot more than that. It’s everything, it’s the world, it’s life itself. It’s people coming and going as they please, laughing and joking with sincere enjoyment instead of a forced attempt at replacing the hollowness inside of them.
This isn’t suburbia anymore.
Callie Jones: Here you go.
Callie hands me a red cup full of beer, another cliché made reality.
Callie Jones: So, what do you think?
Got to sound cool, got to show that I belong. Just sound cool Emily, just sound cool. Oh god, I’m talking to myself in my head, that’s not cool. And now I’m taking too long to answer, how long has it been? Minutes, hours? Probably not hours, but certainly too long to answer a question. Quick, just answer it.
And sound cool!
Emily Hall: It’s pretty cool.
God, that was so not cool.
Callie Jones: It is, isn’t it. Come on, let me introduce you.
In the next few minutes I’m dragged from one group of people to another, names and faces thrown at me in such quick succession that I’ll be lucky to remember one of them. Of course, with how much some of these people seem to be drinking I doubt they’ll remember me tomorrow either, so I guess we’re on equal ground.
Callie Jones: God, watch what you’re doing. Uh, boys!
We narrowly avoid being barrelled into by some idiot riding a unicycle through the house, which makes me take a double take on what I’m drinking. I mean I’ve heard that some crazy stuff goes down at house parties, but a unicycle seems a bit much.
This house is huge. I mean, I could see that when we were walking up to it, but it’s only when you get inside that you really see exactly how big it really is. I mean you could probably fit my gransmothers house into this sitting room and still have enough room for a swimming pool. Did I mention they have a swimming pool outside? I saw that when some guy leapt into it from the upstairs balcony. God, a balcony. When does it become less about having a nice house and more about showing off, and do they even care?
Callie Jones: Come on, let’s get another drink.
As the night goes on Callie says that repeatedly. Even after we finished the bottle of vodka in the drip here she seems intent on continuing. I try to match her and I’m pretty sure that I’m faring better than she is as the time ticks by.
Callie Jones: I’m so glad you came tonight Em.
She says it as we collapse onto a sofa in the giant sitting room. The party is still going on full swing around us, but Callie’s too out of it to keep going. She slurs her words as she speaks and her face is flushed. Even though she’s had far too much to drink I can’t help but find her beautiful.
Callie Jones: I mean it, so, so glad.
She grabs my hand in hers and I don’t even think about pulling them away. I thought I was coping with the drink fine but as the room starts spinning around me I have to re-evaluate that thought. My stomach does a back flip and I’m not sure whether it’s caused my Callie placing her head on my shoulder or the alcohol. Probably both.
Callie Jones: So gl...
She doesn’t finish the sentence, instead choosing to pass out on my shoulder. I don’t really know what to do here. Back home when Sarah would drink too much it was easy to take her home, but I don’t have any idea how to get home from here. The only thing I even know about this place is the address. Maybe I could call Trace and ask him to pick us up, but then I don’t really want him to see me like this. I know that he’s had his problems with drink and I don’t want to disappoint him.
Tomas Deeks: She looks out of it.
I look up. Tomas, Callie’s friend who gave us the ride here, stands over us. As soon as we got here he drifted off and this is the first I’ve seen of him since. Not difficult I guess, this house is huge.
Emily Hall: She’s had a few too many to drink.
Tomas Deeks: Yeah, she’ll do that every now and then. Girl works hard so she can play hard. Here, we should get her somewhere quiet.
He lifts Callie up effortlessly, holding her head in one arm and her legs in the other. I follow him upstairs, not wanting to leave Callie on her own in case she waits up. We end up going into a bedroom where Tomas lies her out on a large, plush bed.
Emily Hall: God, even their beds are amazing.
Tomas laughs.
Tomas Deeks: Yeah, wait until you sleep in one.
Emily Hall: I don’t see that happening any time soon.
Tomas Deeks: You never know.
He gives a little smirk which unsettles me. He seemed like a nice enough guy on the drive up but every time I looked I could have sworn that he’d just been staring at me through the wing mirror. Maybe it’s just the drink, maybe I’m just being paranoid.
Tomas Deeks: You want a drink?
He pulls a bottle of something out of his shirt pocket. It looks like a miniature bottle of vodka but I can’t really get a good look.
Emily Hall: No thanks, I’ve had more than enough.
Tomas Deeks: Oh come on, one more won’t hurt you.
Emily Hall: I said no.
He shrugs, but I can see that he’s annoyed. I decide that calling Trace and having him be disappointed in me is a lot better than staying here. I pull out my phone and start texting him, sending him the address and asking him to come and get me. I’m about to hit send.
Tomas Deeks: Who are you texting?
Emily Hall: Um, just my brother. I’m gonna get him to pick me up.
He walks up to me and goes to grab my phone out of my hand. I pull it away just in time and quickly add ‘911’ onto the text, hitting send before his second grab reaches my phone. He chucks it onto the bed.
Emily Hall: What the hell are you doing?
Tomas Deeks: Oh come on, you don’t want to go home yet. Just stay and hang for a bit.
Emily Hall: No, I’m going to go home.
I go to pick Callie up off of the bed, not comfortable about leaving her in here without me, but the door is knocked shut, Tomas standing in front of it.
Tomas Deeks: Come on, stay for one drink…
< *** >
One sip quickly becomes the entire glass, and that leads to me ordering a second. Ari joins in, quickly catching up by downing a shot of tequila before ordering a whiskey chaser. She always did like to drink hard. I feel guilt with every sip but I’m incapable of stopping, my body not accepting my brains message that this is a stupid thing to do, that I should just go home. But of course, with every sip by brain stops caring as much, and the guilt slowly starts to fade away into the ether.
Ari Teague: It’s like you’ve never been away.
But I have, and I should have stayed away, as far as humanly possible.
Trace Demon: Still can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.
Ari Teague: Oh come on. You used to be fun, they used to call you the life of the party.
Trace Demon: Who used to call me that?
Ari Teague: People.
Trace Demon: Please, I’d never hang around people who used the term life of the party.
She shakes her head and giggles, and I can’t help but laugh myself. But she’s right, I have missed this feeling. This feeling of invincibility, this feeling that nothing could go wrong, that everything I do is going to go right. Right now I feel like I could go and beat on the entire New Epoch with just a rubber duck.
Then again, that’s probably what the three of them get up to when they’re on their own anyway.
Ari Teague: Don’t you just want to feel alive again Trace? Just go and do whatever you want. Not be trapped by your family and all those people telling you not to do what you want?
Is that what I’ve been feeling? Trapped? By my family, my work? I mean I know that was one of the reasons that I finally gave up on all of the fans, because I was sick and tired of feeling trapped by them. Because I suddenly felt numb to everything that they were saying?
No. I love my family. I love Alexa, I love Eliza, I even love Faith and that knucklehead Axel. Even Emily. My family are the only thing that have been holding me together. So then why am I here? It can’t just be because I have an addiction. It can’t be. There has to be something that’s pulled me back, something more than just things getting on top of me. I’ve been under it all before in the last two years and I held.
Trace Demon: I feel alive.
Ari Teague: Really Trace, because you’re acting f*****g miserable.
Trace Demon: I think I lost what made me great.
Ari Teague: What? Don’t go getting all psychological on me now.
Trace Demon: Think about it. When I was destroying myself I didn’t care about anything, about anyone. And then I get sober and suddenly I care again, and since then life’s just been f*****g with me left and right. If I didn’t care, it wouldn’t get to me, if it didn’t get to me, I’d feel fine.
Ari Teague: So not caring made you great?
Trace Demon: How messed up is that?
Ari Teague: That’s pretty messed up, even for you.
So is that I want? To be hollow, to feel nothing?
Ari Teague: Look Trace…
Ari gets out of her seat, strutting over to me like she doesn’t have a care in the world, one long leg following the next. I go to move over, assuming that she was going to take the seat next to me, but she stops me with a hand of my chest. Then she lifts her one leg, placing it on the side of the seat next to me. Her other leg comes up on the other side so that she is literally straddling me in the middle of the bar, her hands pressed against the seat on either side of my head.
Ari Teague: I don’t care about whether you care or not, I just want to have fun, I want to enjoy life. I’m not looking for some grand revelation about the secrets of the world. So drink up.
She lifts the glass from the table to my lips, pouring the drink down me. I don’t resist. Then she lowers her lips to mine, kissing me passionately. Her tongue sneaks it’s way into my mouth and I just lose myself in the moment. For just this second there’s no Alexa, there’s no Eliza, there’s no Emily or Faith or Axel. There’s no Wayne or Scarlett. There’s no family problems or WFWF problems. No Drakz or Drake Elias to worry about.
There’s just me and the taste of whiskey on my lips.
My phone buzzes on the table and at first I’m going to ignore it, but I can just make out the name – Emily, and the number – 911. I push Ari off of me and onto the seat next to me, breaking the embrace.
Ari Teague: What are you doing?
I grab the phone and I’m on my feet instantly.
Ari Teague: I thought you wanted this?
Trace Demon: I don’t know what I want, but I know that right now this isn’t where I’m meant to be.
And right now… I still care.
< *** >
The next few minutes happen so far. Tomas there, standing in the doorway, insisting that everything was fine, that we were just having a drink, that there was no need to call anyone. I asked him to let me leave, but he said that I should stay, just have a drink with him, insisted. I didn’t want to argue with him, not there. I didn’t know what he’d do, what he was capable of.
I never did like drinking and driving, even when I was a mess of a human being. I mean it was the never the fear of dying that got to me, it was that knowledge that I could kill someone else. I hated that thought, that I could rip apart a family because of my stupidity, because I decided to ignore all of those warnings. So I just didn’t. I mean it’s not like I couldn’t afford to get taxi’s everywhere I went, and usually I’d end up passing out in the pace I was drinking in the first place. I never had the need to do it.
But there’s this sudden levity to a situation when you get a text like that. When you can just feel that something’s wrong. Emily wouldn’t send me a text with 911 in it unless it was actually an emergency, and the thought that my stupidity could hurt her overpowered everything that I’d ever decided upon.
I prayed that Trace would come, that he’d turn up and just sweep us out of there. I didn’t care what he’d do to Tomas, I just wanted to be away from him. It was obvious that this wasn’t right, that normal people didn’t do this, that he didn’t just want to sit and drink. I cursed myself for ever going to the party in the first placed, wished that Trace had said no. Anything would be better than this, sitting in a room having a drink with a man who wouldn’t let me just leave. I knew I should have screamed, but the music outside was blaring and there hadn’t been anyone else up here when we brought Callie up, so nobody would have heard us and it would have only pissed him off.
I didn’t think much in the car. I couldn’t. I could still taste the whiskey at the back of my throat and Ari’s lips on my own. What was I going to tell Alexa? She’d care more about the fact that I’d been drinking than that I’d kissed Ari, because the one predicates the other. I couldn’t lose her, I couldn’t. It would end me, it would destroy everything that I’d built. But at the same time, I knew that I didn’t deserve her. I’d betrayed her trust, betrayed every word that I’d said to her when we got back together, when I pledged to never touch another drop, when I promised never to pop another pill.
What would I have left then?
I drank the drink, slowly, trying to draw it out. He was speaking but I didn’t hear any of the words. I just focused on finding a way out of there. What if Trace wasn’t here on time? What was Tomas going to do? My thoughts turned to Callie, passed out on the bed. If I managed to get away then what he do to her? I had to stay, to find some way of getting us both out of there. Maybe Tomas really did just want to drink, maybe he’d had a few too many and he thought this was normal behaviour?
There was a lot of maybe’s.
I pulled up at the address that Emily had sent me. Some massive house out on the outskirts of the city centre about ten minutes away from the bar. There were cars all over the place, music blaring from inside. Kids out the front of the house, drinking. This was definitely the place. Whatever party Emily had been invited to had turned into a serious rager. In any other situation I’d have stuck around, but this wasn’t any other situation. This was about Emily.
Tomas tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away, telling him that I wasn’t interested, that I just wanted to go home. He didn’t want to hear that. He just kept going, trying to kiss me, running his hands up my leg. I screamed, shouted for someone, but nobody came. I tried pushing him off of me but he was heavier, stronger, pushing me down onto the floor, trying to pull my skirt up. Tears ran down my face. I screamed.
The house looked like a disaster zone. Teenagers screaming and shouting, off of their faces on drink and who knows what else. Drinking far more than they could handle. Rookie mistake of course, but not one that people ever grow out of. I tried asking around, to find out if anybody had seen her, but either they didn’t have any idea who I was talking about or they just didn’t have a clue that someone was talking to them. No sign of her downstairs.
But then a scream, faint, from upstairs.
He’s bearing down on me, his hand reaching up my skirt, when the door suddenly bursts open and he’s yanked off of me and to the floor. It takes me a few moments to realize who it is – Trace. I back up, leaning against the wall, just watching as he drives his fist into Tomas’s face over and over again. I scream at him to stop, and he does. Tomas spits up blood, his face mashed up from where Trace hit him.
Blood on my knuckles and alcohol on my breath.
Just like old times.
< *** >
Alexa Monroe: You’ve been drinking.
It takes all of five minutes in the house for her to figure it out. It doesn’t surprise me, she always did notice the signs whether I’d have four or forty. She doesn’t focus on it though, not immediately, her priority is making sure that Emily is okay. I called her on the way back, Emily and her passed out friend in my backseat. The boys blood is still on my knuckles, a stark reminder of what I’ve done. He won’t report me, I know that much about people in his situation, but that doesn’t mean that there won’t be repercussions. From Emily… from Alexa.
Alexa took Emily and the friend, Callie was it, into her room to try and get some sleep as I wash the blood away. I take a swig of water, trying to rinse the taste of alcohol from my mouth. It doesn’t go, just sticks around as a reminder of my stupidity.
Alexa Monroe: She’s in bed.
Trace Demon: How is she?
Alexa Monroe: Shook up, I think she’ll be alright though.
There’s a pause, one that I don’t want to ever end because I know what’s coming. When I was a kid I always thought that being able to turn back time would be the perfect superpower. The ability to go back and change your mistakes, to stop all the bad stuff happening. I’ve never wanted that power more than right now.
Alexa Monroe: How long?
I don’t answer, hurt more that she could think that I’ve been drinking behind her back for any extended period of time.
Alexa Monroe: Trace…
Trace Demon: It was just this once.
Alexa Monroe: Why? Why now?
Trace Demon: I don’t know.
Alexa Monroe: You don’t know?
Trace Demon: No, I don’t know. It just sort of… happened. I was going to the gym and then I was just kind of there.
Alexa Monroe: Just kind of there? No Trace, you don’t just end up at a bar, not after all this time. I’m not going to sit by and watch you destroy your life again, I can’t do it.
Silence again, but this time it’s one that has to be broken.
Trace Demon: What are you saying?
Alexa Monroe: I’m saying that I can’t be around you right now. Go and stay with Wayne or something, I just, I can’t have you here. I just can’t.
Trace Demon: I’m so sorry…
She knows. She doesn’t say anything, but she knows. But it isn’t good enough. It’s never going to be good enough. I’ve broken her trust and I’ve broken her heart. I can’t go to Wayne’s, and I don’t want to admit to Faith or Axel that I’ve fallen off the wagon. Which leaves only one place.
Viva Las Vegas…
ing up Tomas. HELL YEAH.