Page 64 of Up In Smoke

I blush, not sure how to take his praise. They’ve all been ridiculously kind about my talents. After several years of being told how much I sucked and how much trouble I caused back at Four By Four, I genuinely didn’t think I was anything special. Five minutes at the Tavern, and half the guys were running around screaming about how I was going to steal all their tips. Just kidding around, of course. I’m still getting used to being teased, but I think I like it.

“Everyone here’s amazing,” I say firmly. “Especially with Trixie’s choreo. She’s got such a great eye. But, um, thank you. You’ve all made me feel so welcome here.”

Lucus claps my shoulder, a faint glitter cloud drifting off both of us as he grins at me. “You fit right in, dude. Seriously, don’t worry about tonight.” He glances toward the bar, probably aware of what Iamconcerned about. “If you need help at any point, just ask, okay? It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of a number. Nothing is more important than your wellbeing. We’ve all got your back. Just relax and have fun, and the audience is going to eat you up. You’ll be part of the furniture before you know it.”

I puff out my cheeks, really hoping that’ll be true. I can’t imagine anywhere else being so accepting of all my flaws, let alone giving me an opportunity to be creative. Sure, it’s only a routine dressed in a thong, lab coat and safety goggles. But it’s like there’s a spark that Trixie’s lit inside me that I haven’t feltsince I was a kid, back when I loved acting more than anything else.

This isn’t just three minutes of silly gyrating for dollar bills. It’s as if I’ve discovered a road to my old self that I thought was long left to ruin. Maybe by focusing on my health and recovery these past few months, I’ve been filling in the metaphorical potholes.

“I made it to five months sober yesterday,” I blurt out, just feeling happy and like I want to share my news. Before I can wonder if I was inappropriate, Lucas throws his arms around me and slaps my back.

“I’m so proud of you, man,” he says sincerely.

“Me, too,” I tell him, actually believing it.

It’s amazing what being supported by someone awesome can do for your self-esteem. I check out my sparkly ring briefly behind Lucas’s back, and grin.

Dating Rico is going pretty damn well. I know it’s only been just over a week since everything changed, but that’s plenty of time to reassure me that he’s not just doing this out of some misplaced sense of duty or whatever.

He likes me. A lot. Flaws and all. I’m still not sure what I did to deserve this, but I might actually be starting to believe that happiness can come with no strings attached.

He just wants me for me. And I want him for him, despite what he thought confessing about his tragic past would do to my opinion. As far as I’m concerned, all it’s done is made me feel closer to him. I hate that he went through such a horror and his parents kind of abandoned him after it. But I’m glad he trusted me enough to tell me, and now whenever I get tripped over by doubt, I remind myself that he’s part of my purpose now.

It’s almost as if we were both destined to take care of each other the way that no one else has really shown up to do before.

My brother tried, and I’ll be forever grateful to him for that. I’m getting better at checking in with him recently, just to let him know I’m doing okay. But he’s crazy busy with his own life, and it wasn’t fair to put that responsibility on him. I can almost get on board now with what Rico keeps saying about how my parents shouldn’t have given up on me when I lost my way as a teenager. I still take responsibility for my actions, of course. But it’s like they never really knew what to do with me, so they didn’t even try.

That sucks.

I’ve spoken about it at a couple of meetings, and it turns out a lot of people in recovery have similar stories. Apparently, if you don’t have a support network or even worse, have people around you constantly putting you down, it seems like it’s not a big leap to fall into addiction.

That makes sense with how cautiously optimistic I’m feeling this go around. Because the key difference this time is that I’m not alone. Team Tavern aren’t just becoming my friends, but they’re extremely enthusiastic cheerleaders to boot.

But Rico. Oh, Rico.

Lucas has left me alone now and I toy with my ring again, my heart swooping with every twinkle.

It’s not as if I was besotted with him when I was younger, writing his name in my diary and planning our wedding. Which is probably a good thing, because I never would have guessed the waythatturned out. But I fantasized about him a lot alone at night. And during the day. There was one summer where it seemed like the only thing I did was jerk off thinking about all the different ways I wanted my older brother’s best friend to fuck me.

Ironically, we’ve hardly skimmed the surface of the physical stuff so far. I never imagined whatdatingRico would be like. My teenage self would most likely be amazed by how the emotionalside of things is way better than all the mindless screwing I’ve been doing over the years. Who knew?

Rico takes care of me in so many different kinds of ways. Sometimes it’s cooking us dinner or hugging me for no reason or listening to me when I’m feeling wobbly. And sometimes it’s making decisions for me like what I’m going to eat when I’m overwhelmed by indecision or getting bossy like he did at the jewelry store. They’re all different tactics that tell me how much he cares, that I can trust him, that I’m safe.

I just hope I’m able do even half the same back for him. I can feel my confidence growing pretty much daily, and it’s incredible how that makes it easier to care for someone else. I believe I can do right by him and witnessing all the time and effort he puts into me makes me want to keep fending off my demons so I can do the same for him.

For so long, all I thought I had to live for was my next high. Rico is helping me to see that I’m worth so much more than that.

With that thought in mind, I take one last look around the empty bar area and head back to the dressing room. The doors are going to open shortly to the public, but we’ll hide here for a couple of hours while the vibe warms up. In the meantime, I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself.

Out of nowhere, I feel the itch.

It’s always there, humming away in the background. Everyone I’ve spoken to on this journey has warned me that it won’t ever go away. But with a lot of hard work, medication, and good support, the hope is that most days, the itch will stay quiet and be easy enough to ignore.

Right now, all I can think about is that the best way to calm my nerves is at the bottom of a bottle in the next room over. That I won’t care about people judging me if I’m out of my mind.

But then my dancing will be sloppy, and I’ll let my new brothers down. I breathe deeply, imagining how good it willfeel to nail the steps and have all those people cheering for us compared to the mortification of stumbling all over the stage. Not to mention, Trixie would fire me immediately. The potential shame of letting her down far outweighs my kneejerk reaction to reach for a drink.

Knowing that doesn’t dampen the craving, though. I sit in a chair in a corner by myself, tapping my thigh and chewing my lip. Visions of the people I can now hear out in the bar float through my mind, of all the fun they’re having sipping wine and knocking back shots as they talk, laugh and dance. I want the noise in my brain to stop. I want to be carefree like them.