“Of course I can Paige. I’ll do some drawings for you to show you next week… or I can always call you and we can meet up. Have a coffee or something?”
“No. Next week is fine.” I stand up and turn to leave, but I pause.
“Thanks Braden,” I say over my shoulder and then head home.
Chapter Forty-Two
The next week, Braden has pages of phoenixes drawn for me.
“Wow, you’ve really been working hard on this,” I comment as I go through the images. They’re all beautiful, and are very similar to what I told him. Although, some are more detailed than others. A few pages in, and I find it. “This one,” I say tapping the page. “This is exactly what I imagined.”
“Done,” he says quietly, taking the sketch pad off me and looking more closely at his drawing. “I think a phoenix is really fitting Paige. Because you made it out. You’ve turned your life around.”
I shake my head minutely, as a coldness seeps into my heart, sending me rigid and making my pain stab at my insides. “The phoenix has nothing to do with me Braden. It’s for my daughter.”
“I didn’t realise you had a daughter.”
“I don’t. She’s dead.”
“I’m so –“he starts, but I cut him off. I don’t want to hear it.
“Just do the tattoo ok? That’s all I need from you.”
“Alright. When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible.”
Chapter Forty-Three
It takes over a month of work and healing to get the tattoo complete. We work on it after hours, so it doesn’t get in the way of Braden’s paying customers.
While he works, we talk. Sometimes it’s just general chit chat. Sometimes it’s more serious. But it’s different to therapy. It’s different to meetings. It’s two people with a shared experience, finding a way to get over it.
“How did you end up living out west?” I ask him.
“I got so hooked on heroin that I qualified for the methadone program in St Marys. I stayed in a group home for a while and fought really hard to get off the stuff completely. Sally, my sponsor, has been really great. He’s helped me a lot. But, I met a lot of people who weren’t so lucky. They just moved from heroin to methadone and never got off it.”
“Your sponsor’s name is Sally?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “You’ve seen him before. He’s the guy with the big black beard and the shaved head.”
“Really? I never would have picked him for a ‘Sally’,” I comment, laughing to myself.
As the days wear on, Braden starts to tell me about his life, and how he got involved with Reggie.
“I was buying more than I could afford, and to work off my debt, he took me on as a dealer and his sometime… um… companion. I’m sure you know by now that Reggie likes it every way there is. He didn’t have a big group of girls back then. He had one or two that stayed with him and everyone else got a call whenever he wanted to party.
“Anyway, after a while, I started recruiting new dealers, and I bragged that I could get anything I wanted – a really stupid thing to say around a guy like Reggie, but I was high, and I wasn’t really thinking.
“He told me to find him a girl. One that no one would miss. I started paying attention to the girls that slept around a lot. The girls who always seemed to be on something, or seemed really lonely… lost… I’d take them home and play the gentleman, then tell them I knew a guy who would treat them well and give them anything they wanted. Then I’d hand them over.”
I have my back to him as he works on my tattoo, so I can’t see his face as he speaks. But, the air around us is completely sombre, and so filled with regret that I close my eyes to gather some strength before speaking. “So you’re the reason for Reggie’s girls?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “and I’m going to rot in hell for it.”
He pauses in his work, so I take the opportunity to turn and face him. “I’m pretty sure this is hell Braden. Living with what we’ve done. This is hell.”
“What did you do that’s so terrible Paige?”
“Everything. I did absolutely everything I was told to do. And then some.”