Eddie catches on and shoots me a mean look. “Sit,” he tells me and pats the bed next to him. He reaches over to lift a large water pipe from his bedside table and places a fat rock of yellowish freebase on the screen. “Sit down; sit down,” he insists and points to the floor this time. “So, uh, you’re a college student? Eighteen, eh?”
“I’m eighteen. I’ll be nineteen in a few days,” I tell him as I kneel down on the floor at his feet.
Eddie looks me over intensely, watching my eyes as he moves the pipe from one hand to the next. An ominous air charges the room. He turns his attention to the side table and picks up a small propane torch. “Do you, uh, like this stuff?”
It’s a test, my mind screams. Act cool! But I am helpless. With every ounce of strength in me, I try to feign innocence; yet my body is fixating, my mouth watering, all for a taste of the drugs paraded before me. I know Eddie sees me. “Well, I don’t know… uh… is that that cocaine stuff you can smoke? I think I’ve tried it. Once. I think.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows at my rambling and gives me a leering nod. Then he lights the torch and begins to melt the rock down, rolling it from side to side till it is completely dissolved. Quickly he dives in to pull on the pipe and suck the thick brown smoke off the bubbling water. He holds the smoke in his lungs and looks over at me. Instinctively I rise up to be ready to take his exhale. He pulls away, surprised, and releases a cloud around my face. “You know how to do this?”
I realize I have messed up again and shake my head. God, I’m doing terrible.
“Come here.” He holds the pipe to my mouth and heats the stem. I lean toward him, purposefully trying to make my movements look awkward. This time the ache in my rib cage makes it easy for me to appear new at handling the pipe. Eddie notices and falls into his high, relaxed.
I draw in the dense smoke and almost choke. Eddie smiles at my weakness. Then I make a final mistake. When inhaling the smoky cocaine, I suck in my breath and hold in the hit the way John taught me, the way a pro would. Eddie’s head snaps up, and he glares hard in my direction.
Oh no! I blew it. He knows this isn’t my first time. He knows I’m lying! Panic seizes me as I quickly release the hit and steal a peek at him. Face stone cold, a man in total control, he watches my reaction. The room begins to whir, and my head starts spinning. My stomach lurches into my throat, and I think I’m going to be sick. He’s watching everything you do! John’s words swirl in my head. But I can’t help it. I have to lie down. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I let my guard down and fall back on the bed. What’s happening? What is this stuff? the voice in the back of my head yells out. Oh God. Is this heroin? Everything hums, and I can’t focus beyond two feet away. Covering my face, I can hear a steady laugh—Eddie’s—float past my body into the background. I brace myself to see him, but the door slams shut and the laughing stops instead. Sitting up through the fog of numbness, I try to understand what is going on. Did he say something? I wonder. I try to bring my eyes into focus and look around the room. The drugs and pipe are still on the nightstand, and the closet next to it is ajar.
John told me about the safe being in the floor of his closet. Oh shit! I’m being tested again. Don’t look at anything, Dawn. Don’t look at anything! I tell myself frantically. If he’s not here, he’s mad. Oh God. I don’t want to end up in the desert! Please! I hold on to the side of the bed, keeping my balance and gazing downward. Just don’t look at anything, I chant in my head, over and over and over… for hours…
The groan of the bedroom door tells me someone is finally here. I look up from my drugged paralysis, my vision cloudy and blurred. I hear steady mumbling and see a shadow approach me, then loom overhead. A hand reaches down to pull me up and guide me onto the bed, laying me slowly on my back. My clothes are pulled off, and instantly I am self-conscious; bruises cover my body. An image, the outline of a dark-haired man, stands before me. He casts off the maroon blur of his robe, and his face comes closer to mine. This time it is real; he is here, next to me. I cringe as I feel his breath on my neck, then my cheek, and register the lack of compassion in his eyes. He knows I am helpless, and he takes obvious pleasure in me and even in my fear. But I can close my eyes… I can still disappear… and I gratefully vanish.
It is barely morning when John raps on the door to pick me up. The bodyguard returns and gets me from Eddie’s room, where I have been waiting alone. Acting nervous and jumpy, as usual, John leads me out onto the front pathway. My head is in a fog.
“Can I see him, man?” John begs, referring to Eddie.
“No, John,” his booming voice fires back firmly. “He said call him later. You got everything he wants to give you.” The figure stands defensively, as if to say, That’s it.
We walk silently to the waiting Malibu. My eyes squint from the rising sun. John’s jaw is clenched, pulsating. Is he mad? I wonder vaguely as I count every step closer to the safety of the car and farther away from Eddie Nash. Briefly relieved once we turn onto Laurel Canyon, I face reality in only a moment. I am shaking and hollow inside. The daylight hurts every part of me, and I don’t want to think. Please, God, keep everything out. Drained, I slump down in my seat.
“What happened?” John snaps as we continue driving.
“Whaaat?” I ask, dazed, then realize he must want me to recap the night. I begin. “First the bodyguard…”
“No! I mean what happened?” John’s veins bulge at his temples, and his nostrils flare.
I look at him in disbelief. He is mad! Oh my God! “What do you mean, John? I’m telling y—”
SMACK! The back of his hand hits me hard across my mouth.
“No!” I scream. “No!” Desperately, I scramble for the door. I’ll jump… like I did before. I’ll jump! my mind instructs me. Not again. This can’t happen again!
John sees me fumble for the handle and reaches over to roughly grab my hair at the scruff of my neck. “You’re not going anywhere! He only paid me half! Half of what he promised! Now, tell me what the fuck happened! What did you do?” He whips my head back and forth.
I am trapped. John is stronger than me, and he knows I will try to run. I can’t speak. Fear paralyzes me. I feel my lip swell from his backhanded blow and the steel-force tug of his hand at my neck, and I start crying. Then, as if I’m standing outside of myself, I only register the distant monotone howl of my voice.
“Noooooooooo…” The cries shriek through my being, blocking everything else out.
When consciousness returns to me, I am under the covers in the bed of another dark, run-down motel room. I know what John did, but strangely I see it as only a memory of what happened, as if I weren’t there, as if I left my body. I take a mental inventory of myself and my ribs. John is sitting in the corner of the room at the table, naked and sucking frantically at the freebase pipe. It seems the more he does, the less high he gets. But that’s not the way he sees it.
“This isn’t even the good shit!” He cringes, sweat pouring down the side of his face. “What the fuck?”