Page 69 of Ecstasy
I look down at my hands. My bitten nails, chipped polish that I never fixed. At least Jax is making a living at this. I’m just fucking everything up, left and right.
“Anyway,” he continues, before I can feel too down on myself, “I guess when I was a kid, I saw movies with men in suits, like bankers and shit. Saw those law shows on TV my mom always watched. I mean,” he snorts, “I never wanted to be a lawyer.But I thought I’d grow up and wear a suit every day to work too. But then I realized most of those suits spent all day in an office and that didn’t really sit right with me.” He sighs. “When I fell into dealing, it just…well, to be honest, it just fit.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Just wish it was legal, ya know?”
I laugh a little, running my hand over my thigh. “Yeah, that’d be nice. If using paid the bills, that’d be cool too.”
He doesn’t laugh at that and my palms feel sweaty. “What do you want to do, Zara?” he asks me quietly. The way he phrases it, like I still have a chance, like I mightbesomething, it makes my throat tight, pressure building behind my eyes.
I cough, pressing my fist to my mouth and staring up at the moon again, trying not to get too emotional over this shit. “I uh, well, you know I like philosophy, and—don’t laugh, I know it’s a useless degree—but I kind of thought it would be cool, if I ever…” my voice cracks and I take a deep breath.
Jax claps his hand over my shoulder in a friendly gesture, kneading my muscles.
I close my eyes, a little overwhelmed. “If I ever get over this, you know, if I don’t drive my life completely into the ground, I’d help other people. Like not a therapist, because I hate therapists.” I laugh a little and Jax’s fingers dig in a little deeper. Not to hurt me, but to comfort me. I think about the therapist I went to when I was five. They let me play with blocks and assured me that my parents’ divorce wasn’t my fault.
A lot of good that did for the empty hole in my chest that my father had left.
“But I don’t know. If I could be a speaker, or just a support system to someone. Using the whole Stoic bullshit about handling your own emotions. About getting over your own mental blocks that tell you that you just can’t quit.”
I open my eyes, turn to Jax, who still has his hand on my shoulder. “I’m probably just full of shit. Don’t listen to me.”
Jax doesn’t laugh like I wish he would. He meets my gaze instead, his eyes watery and blue. “You’re not full of shit. But to be honest, you’re makin’ me feel a little guilty about, you know, being your dealer and shit. If you really wanna stop, I can help you out, you know? And you’ll hate me for it.” He drops his hand from my shoulder, scrubs it over his jaw. “God, you’ll hate me, because I’ve done it before. And you’ll scream at me and we won’t be friends anymore, but if you want that help, I can do that for you.”
My chest tightens with those words, and I can’t look away from him. I can’t look away from him and I know it’s a genuine offer, just like I know I’d never be able to accept it. Maybe right now, when I’m high as hell and in the moment, but as soon as I needed something, I’d be back on his doorstep and Iwouldhate him.
“Nah,” I smile at him. “It’s okay. It’s not that bad.” I turn again to the moon. “Not yet.”
We’re quiet for a long moment. I’m not sure how much time passes but I start to feel sleepy when my phone vibrates again in my pocket.
“Wanna get that?” Jax asks me lazily, like he doesn’t really care either way but he’s just making sure I know my phone is buzzing.
I lean to the side, pull it out of my back pocket. I’ve got several missed texts from Alex.
And one from Eli.
Jax must peer over at my screen because he says, “Oh nice. The rapist.”
I laugh, flipping my phone over and turning to look at Jax. “Is he really though?”
Jax shrugs. “Probably not, but some bitch said he was.”
“What happened?” I press. “Women don’t usually cry rape unless it really happened.” That’s an actual fact. And I don’t know if I want to know the whole story, but I know I need to get my head out of my ass and find out. A girl ended up dead at his house. He threw me on his kitchen counter and shoved a bottle in my mouth, hard enough to split my lip, just a few hours beforehand.
I need to stop being stupid.
But Jax just throws up his hands. “I dunno. Some wild party in this neighborhood and then some girl called the cops and said Alex and one of his friends tried to rape her and then prevented her from leaving the room. Apparently, they eventually let her go and she called the police.”
My skin crawls thinking about that.One of his friends?And Alex is huge. He could easily stop a girl from leaving a room, and he could easily rape someone. At least physically. But I’m not so sure he’d actually do that. I mean, he was the one that put the brakes on the threesome.
“Who was the friend? Were they charged with anything?”
Jax shrugs again. “Dunno the dude’s name, I only heard this secondhand. I don’t fuck with most college boys. They’re pussies. Anyway, girl probably got spooked. I don’t even think she did a rape kit or whatever that shit’s called. She transferred from Caven though.”
My throat feels dry and I rub it with my hand, my phone vibrating again on my thigh. “What was her name?”
He cuts his eyes to me. “Oh, come on, Za. Don’t go trying to track the poor girl down. Ask Alex about it yourself.”
I did,I don’t say.
“Besides that, honestly, I don’t remember her name. I wasn’t at the party, just heard it through the grapevine, and you know that shit is crawling with bugs.”
