Page 10 of Blackout: Book Two

“It’s in the kitchen, under the sink.”

“Was that so hard?”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond and once he’s out of sight, I bring Blackie’s kutte to my nose. I breathe in the scent of his cologne that’s mixed with the leather and motor oil and more tears fill my eyes. Emotionally spent and unwilling to give into the tears he doesn’t deserve, I drop the kutte onto the couch. Nico returns and makes quick work of cleaning up the glass. When he’s sure he’s got most of it, he allows me to walk him to the door.

He apologizes for upsetting me and assures me his offer of ice cream still stands before giving me a quick hug and straddling his bike. As he peels out of the driveway, I wonder where my husband’s bike is. Maybe Anthony Bianci has that too. Not that I give a damn.

Turning back around, I walk inside the house and close the door. Leaning against it, I listen for my maker, but I’m greeted with silence. I take a deep breath and push off the door. I decide to take advantage of the peace and make my way into the kitchen. There, I try to get myself back on track. I take my prenatal vitamins and grab a banana. I don’t have much of an appetite, but I force myself to finish it because of the baby. After I toss the peel in the trash, I call Dr. Spiegel and leave a message with the call center, requesting the first available appointment.

Feeling a little clearer, I leave the kitchen and start for the stairs to take a shower. Blackie’s kutte catches my eye and I take a detour. Taking it off the couch, I drape it over my forearm. Something falls out of the pocket and I bend down to retrieve it. My heart goes still as I lift the empty plastic baggie from the floor. White residue clings to the clear plastic making it obvious it was once filled with coke. I close my fist around the bag and just like that, the peace is interrupted.

He loves his drugs more than you.

“You’re right,” I whisper out loud.

My maker is always right.

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