Page 18 of Written in Scars

But first, he’d take a little bump.

He wasn’t lying when he told Sam the drugs last night belonged to the other guys. They did. Which meant the stash he’d bought himself was untouched. Pulling the wrap out of his wallet, he shook a third of the fine white powder onto a plate on the coffee table and cut it into two fat lines. He found the straw they’d been using and inhaled the cocaine. The effect was almost instant. Johan sat back on the sofa with a huge grin on his face.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

If Sam indulged a little he wouldn’t be so uptight the whole time.

So what if the mortgage payments were a little late? Jesus, they were nearly thirty. Ancient. They had to live a little. Enjoy life before it got too late.

Johan flicked on the television, and then remembering Sam’s interview, he turned on the recorder and found the programme. North East Tonight. What a load of shit. He hit fast-forward searching for Sam’s segment and suddenly stopped as a dishy dude appeared on screen. Nice. He watched a bit of the interview. No idea who this guy was, but he was hot. Smoking. Then fast-forward again until he found Sam’s section. Johan watched without paying much attention. Sam looked good enough on screen, but he’d heard it all before. He’d been banging on about this bloody knife amnesty for weeks. It wouldn’t make any difference. No knife-wielding criminal was going to hand their blades in just cause the cops said it was okay to do so. Get real.

The problem with cocaine was the effect wore off as quickly as it hit. Before Sam’s interview was over Johan chopped another two lines.

Only then did he wonder where Sam had gone. He’d stay away for a couple of hours, maybe the rest of the day, believing it would teach Johan a lesson. Staying out all night hadn’t worked so why would this be any different. Johan laughed.

Maybe he should go after him. Prove he wasn’t a heartless shit. For the sake of keeping the peace. Sam would go ape-shit when he released he was broke for the rest of the month. He’d have to do something to keep him sweet.

That was it. He’d go after him and eat humble pie. Prove how sorry he was. Shed a few tears and promise it would never happen again. A tried and tested technique that had served him well in the past. No reason Sam wouldn’t fall for it again.

Johan grabbed his phone and checked to see whether the link was still active with Sam’s. They’d set it up so they could track each-others handsets if they ever got lost. It took a moment for the devices to sync and there he was: currently in the centre of Newcastle.

Perfect.

Johan leapt to his feet, resolved. He’d tidy this place up, then shower, shave, put on a clean shirt to look respectable and go out to find his husband.

He’d bring Sam home. They would both be grateful for it.

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