Page 31 of Poison

Sighing, Alex opened his desk drawer and pulled out a pen and paper. "Fine." After jotting down an address, he handed it to me. "Go makeup."

Chapter 21

I knew what street Vic lived on. I just couldn't remember the building or the number.

"Fuck this hill," I muttered as I stomped up Hillary Ave, the steep incline that would eventually lead me to Vic's apartment. The moment I reached the pale green building, I had to bend over and catch my breath. My calves were burning. When the pain finally subsided, I pulled the address out of my pocket and gave it a once over. Third floor, apartment thirty-one.

The trip to his floor was anxiety-inducing. The elevator took forever to make it to the bottom floor, and when the doors finally slid open, an old woman slowly hobbled out. She took so long that I almost missed the next trip up. I had to squeeze past her frail frame, almost accidentally pushing her out of the way.

When the rattling box stopped on the third floor, I visibly cringed at the gaudy runner of bright blue, purple, black, and white little squares. The pattern was supposed to cast some sort of optical illusion, but the carpet was far too dirty to cast anything.

I stood in front of door thirty-one for a very long time, biting my lower lip and taking calming breaths before knocking on the worn wood softly. Nothing happened. I knocked again a little louder, and the door opened, revealing a scowling Victor.

"Can we talk?"

"I don't want to talk right now."

"So, you're pissed that I went and slept with someone else because you turned me down." I crossed my arms defensively. "Spoiler alert, we never agreed to be exclusive."

His jaw dropped. "That's what you're taking away from this? Not the fact that you fucked my boss, of all people?"

"I was high as fuck—"

"Exactly! Which is why I can't be pissed at you! But I'm fucking livid with Alex. He took advantage of you!" Vic shouted.

Covering my ears, I staggered a few steps back. "Stop! Don't fucking do this to me! Don't take it away from me! I am not a fucking victim! I can make my own fucking choices! I'm so sick and tired of you acting like you can fix me. I'm a cock gobbling gutter slut. It's who I am. Stop acting like I wouldn't have fucked him sober because I would have. It's what I do."

"I can't stand this." Vic gestured toward my being.

"What? My clothes? I don't get it."

"Starburst is not just a stage name. He's your alter ego. He comes out any time someone tells you something you don't like.

"Starburst is just a stage name. This is who I am." Even I could tell my tone was petulant.

"It's not," Vic insisted, scrunching his nose. "When you're Isaac, you're genuine. When you're Starburst, you're fake as fuck."

The audacity! "You don't know fuck all about me! You've only ever met Starburst! You would run for the fucking wall if you ever met Isaac. He's a shit show! A complete fucking mess. Nothing but anxiety, crippling depression, and a ticking fucking time bomb of self-destruction!" Fighting back tears, I grumbled, "I need a drink. Have a good life."

I stomped off, and Vic closed his door, not bothering to follow me. Again. The moment the elevator doors slid closed, the sob I was fighting back escaped.I ruin everything. Every choice I make leads to disaster. Maybe Hobbs should make the choices for me. At least when he makes them, nobody else gets hurt. Just me.

I needed a fucking drink. Something. Anything to numb the pain that was drilling a hole in my chest. Wrapping my arms around myself, I trekkedarounduntil I spotted a bar with an outside patio. It looked classy, with tan walls, black booths, and beautiful wooden tables. Artifacts from the time before were displayed along the walls in protective cases.

"Hello! What can I get you?" the bartender asked with a cheery smile.

"Whiskey."

"Any particular brand?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small roll of sinders. "Whatever this will buy me. I want the whole bottle."

Snatching up the cash, the woman nodded and went to the back. She returned moments later witha fullbottle ofWinters Whiskey and a glass. The alcohol was middle-grade and a bit harsh, but it would do. Ignoring the glass, Ipulled offthe top and took several large gulps from the bottle.

I wasoverhalfway through with the whiskey when two uninvited guests parkedthemselves next tome.It was hard to focus on their faces. One was a blond man smacking something loudly in his mouth.The other was a darker-toned man, largeand burlyand covered in grime.

"Mmmay I f-fucking help you?" I slurred, narrowing my eyes.

The blond grinned, nodding to something behind me. "That's you, ain't it?"

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