What the man wanted was impossible, and there was no way in hell Josh was going to get involved.
Allen’s “problem” was a simple one. He was a dealer, albeit a fancy one. He needed good, pure product for his upper-class clientele. Pills, especially. For while Nashville’s elite wasn’t going to be caught dead with a needle in the arm, a little bit of Oxy on the tongue was a whole different matter.
Allen needed a source who could get him pills. Simple as that.
Josh had balked immediately, started to rise, but Allen had grabbed his arm and said, “Sit. Down.”
Josh sat, but didn’t move to pick up his fork or wine again.
“Good. You need to think this through carefully. It isn’t chance that led you to be here. Why do you think I was at that particular coffeehouse? I know you, Dr. Joshua Hamilton. I’ve been watching you. I know about your little upper issue. Adderall, is it? Tsk.”
Josh froze. When he could form cognizant thought again, he leaned across the table. “Who told you that?”
Allen smiled. “I think you and I could do business together. I’m a good boss, I take care of my own. You’ll get everything you need to finish your schooling and take care of your wife, and no one needs to know.”
“I don’t do drugs. And I don’t run them, either.”
“Bullshit. You started by taking wifey’s pills, and when you couldn’t do it anymore without her noticing, you struck a deal with the pharmacist at the hospital. An expensive habit you’ve got going on there, Doctor.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Come, now. Look at your hands, they’ve been shaking since you sat down. Your pupils are pinpoint, you’re sweating.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“Hamilton, stop. I know all about it. All about you. Your friend in the pharmacy works for me.”
Allen sat back, took a deep drink of his wine. Josh followed suit, trying desperately to calm himself. Oh, God. Bob, you fucking idiot. You’re working with an outsider? You told? Who else have you implicated?
If the school found out, he’d be expelled, and he’d never get into another. Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God.
Play it cool, Hamilton. He’s fishing. Just play it cool.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I have to go now. My wife will be waiting for me.”
“Three thousand a week. All I need are a few pills here and there. Think about what I proposed, Josh. You’re going to want to do this. I’ll make it worth your while, and I’ll protect you. And if you don’t play ball, there will be consequences.”
Josh nearly knocked over his chair trying to get away from the table.
In his car, he wanted to cry. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wanted to kill Bob, the fucking prick. He started to drive to the pharmacist’s house, then pulled to the side of West End and had himself a breakdown.
God, Aubrey couldn’t find out. If she knew he was supplementing, as he thought of it, she would freak the fuck out. She was so antidrug it was insane. That’s why she’d had the leftover Adderall in the first place; she didn’t like how they made her feel, so she’d tossed them under the sink. She hadn’t noticed when they disappeared. He’d been refilling the prescription for a year, but when it ran out of refills, he needed a new source.
Bob was that source. He did it for most of the med students. Skimmed off the top of the bottles coming into the hospital.
And now, because Bob was a stupid motherfucker, Derek Allen wanted Josh to get involved as well.
Oh, God. He needed a drink. He needed a shitload of drinks.
He put the car in drive and headed toward Sam’s.
CHAPTER 46
Aubrey
Three Years Ago
The lines on her wrist weren’t natural.
It was an interesting revelation. Aubrey stared at the thin white flesh, now marred, confused for the briefest of moments before she remembered.
It was like this every day when she woke. The drugs they were giving her were too strong; they were numbing her brain, making her see flying things out of the corners of her eyes.
The bandages had come off yesterday. The cut was a thin line demarcating the flesh, the inside of her delicate wrist scored. Forevermore she would be able to identify her wrist’s north from south, a permanent latitude etched into her skin.
They didn’t understand.
She rolled onto her side. That was an improvement. The restraints had been overwhelming; she’d been panicked the whole time she was in them. The idiots thought she was fighting to get out; they were wrong. It was the idea that she couldn’t that made her frantic. So they’d drug her, and she’d wake still tied and panic again. A vicious cycle, one that only stopped when one of the other patients, the one in the bed opposite hers, pointed out what the issue probably was.
They finally unhooked her, and she calmed immediately, taking huge, deep breaths, moving her fingers and arms and legs. She didn’t try to get up, just moved all her parts, like a stunned fish finally put back into water.