Page 1 of Blood as Sweet as Roses

Paige

“There must be something you can do,” I say into the phone speaker, my voice wavering slightly. Usually I pride myself on my composure, but tonight, my resolve is wearing thin.

“I told you already, miss,” replies the exhausted voice on the other line. “Our waiting list for funded seats is full. You’re looking at an eighteen-month wait.”

“But he can’t wait eighteen months,” I reply, glancing over to my couch. There’s a shivering figure there, wrapped in a heavy blanket. My heart aches. “He needs help now.”

“Plenty of people need help now,” says the intake coordinator. “But the new government slashed our funding down to ten percent, and we were already underfunded as it is. We’re in the same boat as all the other addiction treatment centers in Midnight City.”

I press my fingers against my eyes. I’m so tired, but I have to figure this out.

My younger brother, Miles, has been struggling with substance use since we were teenagers.

Earlier tonight, I got a frantic phone call from his friend telling me that he had started using again and lost his job from missing too much work.

I immediately went to his apartment to speak with him.

It’s not the first time this has happened, but this time, I’m prepared.

I’ve done my research, and I had made a list of treatment programs in our area.

Luckily, Miles was in a place where he agreed to accept help.

But unluckily, none of the programs I’ve called have any funded spots available.

“Please, you’ve got to help me,” I whisper, not wanting Miles to hear. “It’s my little brother…he’s only nineteen. He’s ready to get help…”

“I wish there was something I can do,” they sigh. “But as I said, our funded program is full.”

A little spark of hope alights in my chest. “Well, what about your paid spots? I have some money saved. It’s not much, but…”

But nursing school can wait. It can wait if it will help Miles.

“We have spots available, if you can pay out of pocket…”

“How much?”

“There’s a two thousand dollar deposit, and then it’s six thousand a month.”

I almost drop my phone. “It’s what?”

There’s an electronic dinging sound on the line. “Listen, I feel for you, but I have another call coming through. Call us again on Monday morning and if there are spots on the wait list, we can add your brother. But it’ll be at least an eighteen month wait, longer if we lose our funding again. Ok?”

“Ok,” I reply, but they’ve already hung up the phone.

I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself. That was the last center on the list.

“Paige?” whispers a weak voice from the couch.

“I’m here,” I reply, quickly wiping my eyes before hurrying to the couch. “I’m here, Mi.”

My brother’s ashen face looks up at me, his lips thin and pale.

He has the same green eyes as our mother did.

It feels like my heart is in a vise. I kneel down beside the couch, taking his cold hand I mine.

I don’t know how to tell him that I couldn’t find a program for him.

But looking at the expression on his face, it seems like he already heard.

“They…they don’t have spots available, do they?” he whispers.

It’s agonizing to see the defeated look in his eyes. But I put on a brave face. I have to be the brave one, for both of us. “No, they don’t. But we’re going to figure this out, Miles…”

He squeezes my hand, and pushes himself up onto his elbows. “I think I’ll be ok, Paige. Honestly, I feel better already. I don’t want you to worry about me. If I just tough it out, I can do it on my own…”

“I know how strong you are, Miles,” I tell him. “But sometimes, even if you’re strong, you can still relapse. Sometimes people need extra help, and that’s exactly what these programs are designed to do.”

“But if there are no spots, it’s no use.”

“Well,” I shrug. “They have paid spots. Maybe…”

“You’re not using your school money,” Miles replies firmly. “You need that, Paige. I promise, I’m going to get clean. It’s not…it’s not going to be like…”

His voice wavers, and he can’t meet my eye.

The blanket slips off his shoulders. He’s wearing an old, baggy band T-shirt.

It’s his favourite group. When he turned sixteen, I took him to see them perform.

It was his first concert. He was the happiest I’ve ever seen him, screaming all the lyrics at the top of his voice.

It was wonderful to see him like that, after everything we’d been through that year.

And I know that I’m going to do everything I possibly can to get him into that treatment program.

I squeeze my little brother’s cold hand.

“Miles, you’re going to get into that treatment program. I’m going to work something out…

“I promise.”

I gaze anxiously at the drink list. Suddenly, even a five dollar happy hour martini seems steep.

“Just water for me, please,” I tell the server, handing the menu back over to her. She frowns at me as she takes it. I can’t blame her, she probably works for tips.

“Babe, just order a drink,” moans my boyfriend, Blake, as he wraps an arms around my shoulder. He looks at the server. “She’ll have a gin and soda, make it a double.”

“Ooh, one for me too, please!” my friend, Amanda, adds cheerfully.

“And I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks,” Blake says.

The server leaves, and I squirm slightly under Blake’s arm. I appreciate he’s trying to help, but I’m just not in the mood for that right now.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. “It’s my choice to save money for Miles. You shouldn’t have to buy my drinks.”

“Well, I like to spoil my girl,” Blake replies. His other hand reaches for my knee, but I slide away from him. I feel my face heating slightly. Blake knows I hate it when he does that in front of Amanda.

She notices our awkward encounter, and politely looks away, scanning the crowded bar.

She’s not the settle-down type. She has a new partner, girlfriend, or boyfriend every month, and she likes it that way.

Ever since we met in middle school, she’s always been the adventurous one, the flirty one, the fun one.

I’m the opposite. Practical, down-to-earth, dependable Paige. Blake and I started dating in high school, and he’s the only person I’ve been with. But I don’t mind. I know what to expect. It’s important for me to have stability in my life.

Even if sometimes, it’s a little difficult. I can sense Blake stiffening as I pull away from his advance. I hope he’s not upset. Thank god, Amanda turns back to us before he can say anything.

“Isn’t this bar cool? I love the vibe.”

I have to admit, I hadn’t really noticed. It’s pretty dark in here, a little too dim if you ask me. It’s lit with red lights, and the pounding music is starting to give me a headache.

“How did you find it?” I ask her.

“Someone from my philosophy class,” she replies. “She’s really cool, she knows where all the underground parties are. She said there might be scouts here.”

“Scouts for what?” Blake says.

Amanda shrugs. “I don’t know. Oh, that reminds me! Are you still coming on the ski trip?” she asks us. “If we book our flights now, the rates will be lower! I have this app that tells me when they’re at their lowest…”

“I don’t know, Amanda,” I reply. “I’m trying to save money for Miles’s treatment. It’s really expensive.”

“How expensive?” she asks, her brow furrowed.

“It’s ridiculous,” Blake interrupts, with a condescending shake of his head. “Babe, you shouldn’t be paying for something like that. Miles should be getting his shit together, not asking you for handouts.”

I can feel my face redden. “He’s not asking me for a handout, Blake. I offered to pay for the treatment program for him. He’s struggling right now, and he needs a program that will support him…”

“What he needs is to buckle down and tough it out. It doesn’t help when you coddle him like you do.” Blake takes a swig of his whiskey.

“I’m not coddling him,” I reply. I try to shrug his arm off my shoulder, but he doesn’t get the hint.

“Substance use disorder is a real mental health condition, and it requires treatment just like any other disorder. A treatment program that understands and addresses the root causes of addiction, preferably one that’s trauma-informed… ”

Blake snorts. “Seriously, everything is about trauma these days. If you ask me, that’s what’s causing all of these problems…”

He continues on his tirade, but I can’t listen to it again.

He’s always felt this way about my brother, and it’s getting worse and worse.

At first, I had the same opinion about substance use.

I thought it was something that was easy to overcome, if you just tried hard enough.

But the more research I did about it, the more I’ve learned that addiction is a mental health disorder, and that, while it’s important not to enable people, it’s also important to be empathetic and compassionate toward those who are struggling with it.

“And it’s causing a big drain because it costs so much,” Blake is saying. “I don’t even know why we pay taxes…”

Amanda’s eyes are glazing over, and I’m struggling to continue listening to Blake too.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I say, leaving my untouched drink on the table. “I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t stop talking as I get up. It’s a well-worn lecture.

I elbow my way toward the bathrooms, but when I spot the line, I change my mind and go back over to the bar. I just need a moment to collect myself. It’s hard for me to listen to someone talking about substance use disorder the way Blake does.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate him. He does things like pay for my drinks, and he gets me presents, like tickets to go see football, although that’s definitely more for him than for me.

But it’s the thought that counts. And I’ve never really been the romantic type.

I don’t get butterflies and tingles about people like that. It’s just not in my nature.

“Excuse me,” says a smooth voice from over my shoulder.

I turn, and all of the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

There’s nothing immediately unusual about the woman standing in front of me.

She’s perhaps more nicely dressed than the younger university crowd in this bar, her crisp blazer well-tailored and her slick black hair pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck.

She has perfect, golden skin and dazzling, dark brown eyes.

But there’s something about her. Something just a little bit off that I can’t place.

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” she says, although her tone and expression don’t seem apologetic at all. On the contrary, she looks a little amused.

“It’s all right,” I reply. To my embarrassment, my voice comes out a little squeaky. “Can…can I help you?”

“I couldn’t help listening to your conversation,” she says. “And I heard that you’re having some financial trouble.”

Her gaze never wavers from mine. She doesn’t seem to blink very often, and it’s a little disconcerting. I don’t believe that she could have overheard us. After all, she’s sitting at the bar and our table is all the way across the room, through a thick crowd of chattering people.

“Excuse me, but I don’t know how that’s any of your business,” I reply.

She grins, although it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I have an opportunity that I think may interest you.” She reaches quickly into her pocket and pulls out a crimson card with black, gothic font.

“I represent an organization that employs young people such as yourself. We pay very generously, and I believe you’d find the work to be… amenable.”

I take the card from her, and squint at it in the dim bar light. My heart skips a beat when I read what it says.

“You’re a vampire?” I gasp.

“One of many,” she replies silkily, with a twitch of her lip.

Suddenly, I notice the red velvet curtains lining the walls, and the lace and leather outfits that the other people in the crowd are wearing. A poster on the wall depicts a man in a dark cape with long, pointed teeth. I’ve been so distracted tonight, I wasn’t paying attention to the decor.

I’m not surprised Amanda would take us to a vampire bar, and that she wouldn’t tell me.

If she had, I probably wouldn’t have come.

I know about the existence of vampires, but I’ve never met a real one before.

They’re dangerous, and in this city, they’re often involved in organized crime.

It’s not something I’d like to get tangled up in if I can help it.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested,” I tell her firmly, handing the card back to her.

But she doesn’t take it. To my horror, she leans in a little closer, her gaze meeting mine. “This isn’t an offer we extend to just anyone. My clients have very particular tastes, and they’re willing to pay handsomely to satisfy them. It would be wise for you to seriously consider it.”

There’s some strange power in her stare, and I find it hard to pull away. “Particular…tastes?”

“Have you ever donated blood before?”

“Yes…”

“Well, this would be just like that,” she purrs, her long-lashed eyes narrowing hungrily.

I stumble backward, hitting my back painfully against the sharp bar counter.

“I seriously doubt that,” I mutter, nervously. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

My heart hammers in my chest as I turn back toward our table and start to push through the crowd. I want to get away from that woman as quickly as I can.

But then…the song changes. I wasn’t listening to the pounding music before, but this bass line is immediately familiar. I don’t need to hear the opening verse to recognize it.

It’s my brother’s favourite song, from the band I took him to see.

I close my eyes tightly.

By the time the chorus hits, I’m back at the bar.

The vampire raises her eyebrow when she sees me.

“How…how generously do you pay?” I ask shakily.