Page 70 of Crave

My head howled with the slightest movement, and my tongue felt thick and alien inside my mouth as I tried to ease the arid void in my mouth.

“You know I checked on you three times.” He said, setting up the other pool tables and wiping down the gleaming wooden surface. “Thought for sure you were dead. You even looked dead.”

It’s how I felt. Dead.

I can’t keep doing this.

“Yeah well.” I pushed harder, then scooted forward, reaching the edge. “I’m clearly alive.”

“For now. But I doubt that’ll last long.”

I scowled, anger flared fast, burning in me. The moment I lunged off the table something fell from inside my shirt and hit the floor with a splat. I squinted and focused on the small white baggie still half full of coke.

Clean your nose, Theo, your cocaine is showing.

My sister’s fucking voice materialised. The bitch…the goddamn little bitch. I gripped the edge of the table and bent over, snatching what was left of last night’s party from the floor and shoved it into my pocket. The guy moved off, flicking on lights before he stopped, turned and jerked his head to the side.“There’s a rear door in the back that’ll take you out to the parking lot.”

I glanced at the way he motioned.

“Don’t come back.” He said quietly, so quiet I could’ve mistaken it.

But I didn’t. I knew I didn’t.

Still, I turned and limped before I found my footing and walked out. The morning sun was blinding, unleashing a sledgehammer blow inside my head the moment I stepped out. I squinted, then scanned the carpark of the bar finding nothing more than a run down blue Toyota parked at the far corner of the lot.

My car’s not here.

Then where the Hell was it?

I tried to think, but the punishing blows between my eyes grew more savage. If not here, then where did I leave it? The darkened parking lot filled my mind. Sander’s club in the city, that’s where. I started walking and patted my pockets, expecting to find nothing. But my wallet was there, secured in the back pocket of my trousers, and so was the Rolex attached to my wrist.

That’s…unexpected.

I grabbed my wallet and headed for the road, lifting my hand to catch the attention of a cab driving past. The occupied light flicked on and he pulled over sharply to the curb in front of me.

“Sander’s in the City,” I muttered as I yanked open the door and slumped in.

The bitter stench of vomit hit me the moment I closed the door. I winced, resisting the urge to gag and yanked my belt across as the driver pulled the car back onto the street and accelerated.

Thought for sure you were dead.

Those words lingered as I stared out of the window, stealing me away until the cab turned into the parking lot of the downtown club and I saw my car right where I left it.

I pulled out a fifty dollar note. “Keep the change,” and handed it over before clamouring out and closed the door behind me.

Fresh air plunged deep as I inhaled. The more I breathed, the clearer my head became. Tires crunched as the cab turned around and drove away. But I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want to go home.

And I sure as Hell didn’t want to find the next party that I was sure was in full swing.

In fact the idea of it made me feel sick.

I thought you were dead.

No. Not home…but not anywhere else either. I strode forward, reached into my pockets and pulled out my keys before hitting the button and unlocking the doors.

Dad’s apartment.