Then we ended our conversation and I swallowed the pills.

And when I felt mellow enough to handle what needed to be done, I did the only thing I could think to do.

I called Gash.

“I’m glad you called, X,” Gash said, sitting in his spot behind his desk.

I propped my ankle over my knee and leaned back in the chair as though I didn’t have a care in the world. Too bad I had way too much to care about. My life was one big, never-ending pile of fucking worry.

“I told you a few weeks back that I was expecting a shipment from Mexico. It just came in. This is grade-A shit, X. We’re going to make a killing.” Gash pulled three freezer bags out of his drawer and dropped them on his desk.

I picked one up and opened it, finding it filled with smaller baggies containing a fine, whitish-brown powder.

I looked up at my boss. “What is it?” I asked, sounding stupid. I knew what it was, I just wanted the confirmation.

Gash grinned. “Some of the best Black Pearl I have ever seen.”

Shit, Gash was peddling heroin now.

Okay, so I was being a massive hypocrite, but I had my standards. Selling pills was one thing, but slinging fucking heroin was something else entirely. If I made that leap, I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive myself.

There was something about the way heroin was taken. Snorted or injected. Needles gave me the heebie-jeebies, and snorting anything up your nose seemed like plain old stupid.

“I don’t know, man,” I said slowly, trying to think of an excuse so I wouldn’t have to sell that stuff.

Gash frowned, obviously not liking my less-than-enthusiastic response.

“Do you understand how much money this could make me? Could make you? Are you a fucking moron?” he asked incredulously, looking at me as though I had been offered the Holy Grail and was turning it down.

“It’s heroin, Gash. That shit is a bit too hard-core for me,” I said lamely, knowing that I sounded like a complete pussy.

Gash leaned back in his chair and let out a loud laugh. He gripped his beer belly as though he feared splitting his gut. “Are you kidding me? A drug dealer with a conscience? Give me a break!” he wheezed between guffaws.

Fuck him!

I got to my feet. “Look, I’m not going to sell that shit. Find someone else,” I said, heading to the door.

“I’d rethink that if I were you,” Gash called out before I could leave.

I froze. His words were a threat.

“I know what you and Marco have been doing. You think I wouldn’t notice the door coming up short almost every single weekend? I’ve been in this game longer than you’ve been alive, X.”

I closed the door and sat back down. This asshole had me exactly where he wanted me.

“And I know you’ve got some sticky fingers when it comes to my drugs. But you’ve made the money, so I haven’t begrudged you your fix. As long as it doesn’t impact my business, I don’t have a problem. But don’t confuse my silence with ignorance. You have your uses, X. Just as Marco does. And you’re going to sell my shit. And you’re going to sell all of it.” Gash wasn’t open to an argument. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I was stuck.

I needed the money.

I needed my drugs.

I needed each of those things more than I needed my self-respect.

And Gash was the one pulling all my strings.

I picked up the freezer bags and put them in my book bag.

“How long do I have?” I asked, my acquiescence making Gash very pleased with himself.

“Two weeks. Not a day more. You get ten percent like always. Make it work, X,” he said, dismissing me.

I left his office, pounds of illegal drugs in my bag—and my soul up for grabs to the highest bidder.

“Please come over,” I found myself begging again. It had been days since I had seen Aubrey. She was making herself scarce. It was killing me.

The heroin sat like a lump of stone in my bedroom closet. The pills were quickly becoming not enough. The temptation to try just a little was getting harder and harder to ignore.

I needed Aubrey.

“I can’t, Maxx. I have a lot of work to do,” she said, making her millionth excuse of the week.

“Did you see the picture? The one I did outside your building?” I asked her. She hadn’t mentioned it. It drove me crazy that she hadn’t said a thing about my soul splattered in paint on her doorstep. I had really thought she’d get it. That she’d understand.

But it was like she didn’t give a fuck.

I heard her take a deep breath. “Yes, I saw it,” she said softly.

“Did you like it?” I needled, trying to get a reaction from her. Anything. I just needed something.

“It was beautiful, Maxx. They’re all beautiful. But . . .”

“But?” I asked, my words becoming hard. She didn’t like it. She hated it.

She hated me.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said after a beat. And that hurt. A lot.

“Why don’t you want to see me?” I asked, loathing the sound of my own voice. My love for this woman made me high. But it also brought me so fucking low. And it was in the lows that I felt like I couldn’t drag my way out of the pit I found myself in.

I knew she had thought she could change me. She had gone into this relationship seeing me as a screwed-up addict who needed saving. And suddenly I couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t care about me for me but for the charity project she thought I was. And that pissed me off.

So I embraced the anger, because that was easier to handle than the fear that I was failing her completely. The idea that a girl like Aubrey could care about me, just as I was, felt almost blasphemous. Because she deserved better. And I was terrified the day had come when she had figured that out.

My hands were shaking and I was sweating. I felt the familiar sickness deep in my gut. I reached over to my bedside table and opened it, looking for the brown bottle I knew would be there.

“I do want to see you, Maxx,” Aubrey said, and I could hear the lie.

“Then come over, just for a little while,” I pleaded one last time.

I heard her sigh just as my hands closed around the bottle I was searching for. I shook it. It was empty.

Fuck me, it was empty.

I popped the top, thinking I must be imagining things, but there was nothing there.

I threw the bottle across the room. Aubrey was saying something on the other end of the phone, but I was no longer listening.

“Maxx?” she said when I didn’t say anything. I was too busy ransacking my room, looking for anything to take the edge off. I had to have a pill around here somewhere.

“I’ve got to go,” I said in a strangled whisper.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sounding concerned.

Oh, so now she wanted to play worried girlfriend? If she cared so much, she’d be here beside me, helping me when I needed her.

She was the only thing that could help.

But she wouldn’t come. She was purposely staying away.

“That’s fine, Aubrey. Stay the fuck away. See if I care,” I barked petulantly. I know I sounded like an ass. But she was giving me no choice. I had to get off the phone. I had to stop thinking about her.

There was only one thing I could focus on right now.

Finding my drugs.

“Maxx, don’t be like this. I just need some time . . .”

“Take all the time you need. I’m over it,” I spat out, hanging up.

I dropped the phone onto the bed and crawled on my hands and knees to a pile of clothing on the floor. I destroyed my room in my search and couldn’t find anything.

“Ahhh!” I screamed, curling up into a ball. My body was racked with the shakes. I felt the bile building up in the back of my throat.

My phone was ringing. I knew who it was.

Aubrey.

I reached out my hand, trying to grab it. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I should have told her what was wrong. Then she’d be here to help me.