Page 21 of Crazy Love
“Seriously, you think I’m trying to ship him off to hospital because with him out of the picture Bitch Slap is guaranteed the top prize in this competition?” The damned competition hadn’t entered my thoughts until he mentioned it. “Look at him, Darke. I mean it, genuinely look at him.” I physically help him to turn his head in the appropriate direction. “Have you ever seen anyone look this shit before?”
“Maybe,” he sighs in a way that tells me he definitely has, and more often than he cares to admit. “I realise things look bad, but you don’t know him. Knox has issues.”
No kidding.
“Issues a trip toDoctorsvilleis only going to exacerbate.”
Knox—is that his name? “Knox…Knox,” I gently shake his shoulder. My prodding barely raises a groan. “Do you know what he’s drunk…taken?”
“You’re making too much out of this. Listen to me. We’re not sending him anywhere without his consent.” Darke snatches my phone out of my hands and stows it in his back pocket ensuring I can’t dial for assistance next time he’s distracted. “I know you mean well, but you don’t know shit about the situation. Being prodded and poked and shuttled around for hours, then sent home with a wad of leaflets about where to go for help isn’t what he needs.”
“And I suppose you know exactly what it is that’s gonna fix him.”
Darke shakes his head. “Wish it was as easy as sending him for a long stint in rehab, but he has memory issues that predate the damage he’s done to himself through overindulgence. I’m telling you straight though, sticking him in an unfamiliar environment will just confuse the hell out of him.” Darke slides his long fingers through the front of his hair, then turns those sharp eyes on me. “I realise your conscience might be telling you something different, but the best place for him is bed, so are you going to help me, or not?”
If Jessie was here she’d tell me to walk away, to leave Paradise Kiss to wallow in their own stench and not worry about them, but I’m a sucker for overgrown boys in need of saving. Some girls get sappy over cute fluffy animals, in my case it’s bad boys in distress. One pleading glance, and it’s like a screw comes loose inside my head and sense flies out of the window.
“I’ll help,” I say, pausing before adding a caveat. “But only in getting him as far as your room. You can put him to bed and play night nurse yourself since you’re not prepared to call in the experts.” I’ll do this because Knox clearly needs someone to look out for him, and while I’m far from convinced that Darke’s strategy is the correct one, I concede he at least believes he’s doing the right thing.
“Let’s get him up, before someone happens along.”
Getting him upright is like manipulating a ten ton scarecrow, by which I mean he’s all dangly limbed and at risk of his stuffing coming out. Darke literally heaves him into an upright position, then we take an arm each and hook them around our shoulders so that Knox is between us. The smell of him makes me want to hurl. I’d hold my nose, but I don’t have a hand free to do so. With one, I’m clinging onto Knox’s wrist, and the other is fastened around his leather belt helping to combat the effects of gravity. I have no idea how we get him up the stairs, because while one of Knox’s feet occasionally goes in front of the other, it’d be a gross distortion of the facts to describe it as ambulation.
“You’re either brave or stupid,” I tell Darke when we finally reach the correct landing. We both have to pause for breath, though we maintain our grip on Knox. I swear, if he ends up on the floor now, as he has several times during the climb, I’m going to propose dragging him by either his ankles or collar. “What I’m saying is that there’s nothing to stop me blabbing all this to Graham Callahan in the morning. You know yourself he’s not going to be enthused at the idea of taking on a band with a—” I pause to look Knox over, because it’s hard to come up with an appropriate description for him. “—a slacker for a bassist.”
“Lickers are fast,” Darke protests, obviously having misheard me. “He’s more like an indolent slug. As for why, I guess I was banking on your innate goodness. I know Jessie’s a cow, but that doesn’t mean all of Bitch Slap are tarred with the same brush.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He puckers his lips and blows me a kiss. “Any time.”
Darke reaches for the door handle and pulls it open. He stops it swinging back on itself by shoving his foot in the way, then letting me shuffle through sideways because the gap isn’t wide enough for the three of us to walk abreast. The corridor only just accommodates us.
“You weren’t my first choice,” he explains. “More like the last resort. I wasn’t getting up those stairs on my own, not without one or both of us sustaining a serious injury.”
I take that to mean he couldn’t locate the two other members of his band. One assumes he’d call them ahead of me, unless he’s hiding Knox’s drug problem from them, or they have problems of their own.
“What’s he taken, anyway?” I ask. I don’t know why it’s relevant, but…I guess I’m nosy.
“This is a few pints topped off with some weed.”
“Bullshit.” I nearly drop Knox in the process of calling Darke a liar.
“I’m serious.” His pale green eyes flash with indignation. “I’ve known Knox to drop the odd tab, but never to dabble in the really hard stuff. I’m guessing whatever he smoked was cut with something else.” The sincerity with which he says this, convinces me that Darke at least, believes his own words. Maybe it’s the truth and maybe it’s wishful thinking on his behalf, because if I had to guess, I’d say Knox has been chasing dragons.
“Like what?” I raise my brows and wait for him to present a plausible explanation.
“Pesticides, strychnine, possibly opium.”
OK, they all sound pretty grim and hazardous.
“But let’s face it—” He brings us to a pause outside room 423. “—it could be anything. I’ve heard if you’re not used to it, opium can make you puke.” The new stains on my bathrobe and Darke’s lack of an upper body covering are testament to how much spewing has taken place.
I’m left supporting most of the vomit merchant’s weight, as Darke works magic with the key card, and gets the door open. With a lot of sweat and pulling, we manage to navigate Knox over the threshold and into the bathroom.
“Better hose him down before we put him to bed.”
He certainly needs it, but, “I only said I was coming this far.”
