Another bottle gone.
I dropped it to the floor and swung my feet off the edge of the bed. I ran my hands through my hair and looked around the room. I was hungry. I was horny. I wanted to fight something, someone.
Falling to the floor, I dug under the bed and found another bottle. I had walked into the liquor store a few days ago and put down more than enough money to buy all I needed to drink myself to death. Only I kept doing it wrong. I’d get drunk and pass out. I’d never push myself over that edge.
“Fucking pussy,” I whispered.
I twisted the top off the bottle and took a swig. The sudden taste of chocolate made my stomach turn. I swallowed and then it all came back up. My face was in a trashcan, the smell of rotten vomit making me throw up even more. Through my hazy eyes I saw the bottle was goddamn chocolate vodka. I had no idea how the fuck that happened.
I heard the door to my apartment open.
Most people would get freaked out, right?
I didn’t care.
My bedroom door then opened and two men stood there, holding guns.
They were Aton’s guys.
I put my hands up, my fingers like guns, like I used to do with Shane when we were kids.
“Pow! Pow!” I said.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the guys said. “It stinks in here.”
I saw Aton push through and his nose wrinkled at the odor. “Goddamn, Wes. I figured it would stink in here, but I thought it was going to be your body decomposing. Thought you were dead.”
“I am dead,” I said.
“No, you’re not. And we need to talk.” Aton waved his hand in front of his nose. “Get him in a cold shower. I’ll go make some coffee. Back to business, right now.”
I grabbed at the bed and tried to stand up. I kicked the bucket of vomit over. One of the guys, standing about seven feet tall, grabbed his stomach and started to dry heave.
“Toughen up,” Aton said. “Get him cleaned up.”
Next thing I knew the two guys were grabbing me by the arms. They dragged me out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. They tossed me into the shower and turned on the water. One of them turned on the shower and the ice cold water hit me. My body stiffened and I screamed for a second. I propped myself up on my hands and knees and threw up again. So I just stayed there, letting the water hit me.
“Squirt him with soap,” one of the guys said.
They drew a line of shampoo from my head down to my ass, even though I was wearing clothes.
They then argued over who was going to clean up my room.
I looked up and let the cold water pound on my face. I reached up and started to pull myself up. I got to my feet, put my hands to the wall, and stood there. My stomach was empty. My heart was empty. My head was full of memories. I pushed from the wall and stood on my own. I grabbed my shirt and peeled it off my body. I dropped my jeans, boxers, and left all my clothes. I stepped back into the cold water and washed myself.
I left the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. The smell of coffee filtered through the apartment. If Aton was setting me up to die, he was really playing into it. Normally if Aton wanted someone gone, they’d be gone. He had the connections and the muscle to make it happen.
In my bedroom, one of Aton’s guys was on his knees, his tie over his nose and mouth, cleaning the floor. The other guy had the window open, waving a pillow, trying to get the smell out. I dropped the towel and grabbed some clothes to put on. I ran my hands through my hair a few times and that was it for me. That’s as much as I had ever gotten ready in my life.
Aton stood, waiting for me. He had two mugs of coffee poured.
“Sit,” he said. “Drink.”
“Got any whiskey for the coffee?” I asked with a grin.
“Don’t be a fucking smart ass,” Aton said.
I sat down and sipped the coffee. Aton sat across from me. He folded his hands. He had no intention of drinking his coffee. He just stared at me.
I had known Aton for a long time. I first met him because of Shane. Aton helped Shane get out of some legal troubles, which Shane repaid back by becoming a fighter. Shane showed me how to throw a solid right fist, which I used to take down four guys on the high school football team when I saw them trying to push around some girl. That got my ass booted out of school and Aton was there to bring me into his world. That girl, however, never learned her lesson. She ended up getting attacked and got herself hooked on drugs and she killed herself.
Those were the memories I had in my mind. Not about finding my dream present under the Christmas tree. My memories were two guys holding that girl’s arms while two other guys were touching her, taking her clothes off. My first fight. My first win. I stood there and looked around at the destruction I had caused with my fists.
And you know what?
I fucking loved the feeling.
Aton slid a hand across the table and grabbed my hand. “Wes. Wesley.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said.