Her hand pressed against my heart, a gentle touch that should have meant something to me. “Your heart is beating so fast.”
“That’s because I don’t spend my time smoking that shit. You wouldn’t be such a downer if you gave up the smoke and tried coke.”
My vision blurred as that moment of my past came crashing full on into my present. Over and over, I had to tell myself I wasn’t the murderer Kim thought I was. If only I could convince myself.
“I’d do that if I thought it would make you happy,” she whispered next to the corner of my mouth. “Would it make you happy?”
I turned my head away from her. “You’re too fixated on happiness, Melissa.”
“Would it make sex better?” she asked before snaking her tongue over the shell of my ear.
“Yeah, maybe,” I answered without any thought as to whether my answer was true and not caring.
“Then maybe I should do it,” she said with a smile as she scooted up my lap, exciting me.
I stilled her movement before she got me too hot. “Then you’re going to have to get more. I finished all of it.”
Melissa leapt off my lap and skipped over to the nightstand next to her bed. Pulling out a vial, she showed it off and threw it to me. “You underestimate me, Tristan.”
She dropped down next to the table in front of me and spread four lines out. Before I could even have one, she’d snorted two and was moving for a third. I pulled her back by the hair and pushed her hard onto the floor. “Don’t be so greedy.”
I saw in her eyes as they filled with tears that her feelings were hurt. She’d done exactly what she believed would make me happy and still I didn’t come across with anything but nastiness. As she began to cry, something inside me softened toward her, and I pulled her up onto my lap, still unsure I wanted anything physical from her that night but hoping I could stop her tears.
Covering my mouth with hers, she teased the inside with her tongue, exciting me. Pressed against me, she moved her hips back and forth, giving me a preview of what she wanted. Her wet pussy slid over the front of my jeans, drenching them, and for a moment, I wanted her.
But she came with far too much baggage for me at that moment, and Sam was bound to return at any time. The scene he’d create alone was enough to make my cock go soft. I pushed her away and shook my head. “Maybe later, Melissa.”
Stung by my rejection, she slid off me, smacking me across the face as she left. “Fuck you, Tristan!”
She kicked the tray of coke as she stormed out, sending the powder into a white cloud that slowly fell in puffs to the floor. I watched in disgust as the rest of my night was ruined in mere seconds, content to ignore both Melissa and Sam in favor of sitting alone until I figured out where I’d be able to find more coke and hopefully salvage the night.
I had no idea how long I’d sat there consumed by my own thoughts when I heard the first siren. It seemed to come out of nowhere and suddenly be so loud it drowned out everything in my head. Another and then another followed, and my instincts kicked in. Quickly, I dialed Rogers to get me the hell out of there. I didn’t need another arrest for possession.
I’d barely gotten to my feet when the cops stormed through the door. There was no escaping. My guilt was obvious by the coke all around me. Pushing my hands through my hair, I tried to make myself look less fucked up, but it was no use. What was the term—caught red-handed? That was me. Again.
As they led me out, I saw the paramedics working on Melissa as she lay motionless on the floor next to the living room sofa. Sam paced back and forth, wringing his hands and praying aloud for her to be okay while a cop tried to get him to answer his questions about what she’d taken and when. For a moment, his answers, no matter how disjointed they were, scared the hell out of me, but I’d get out of it. Melissa would be okay too, assuming they pumped her stomach to get rid of any pills she’d taken.
Everything would be okay. My father’s money would see to that.
I pulled off the side of the road and leaned back to close my eyes as the memory of what happened next flooded into my brain. Melissa never made it out of that apartment that night. The mixture of prescription drugs and cocaine sent her into cardiac arrest, and she died there on that floor surrounded by strangers as they took Sam and me away.
Arrested and charged with murder for giving her the drugs, I spent the night in jail before my father’s attorney got me released. I didn’t find out she’d died until two days after she was gone when I was finally home safe and sound in my parents’ house.
I sat silently listening to my father explain in detail what would happen to me as he paced from one side of the room to the other, stopping only to glare at me and shake his head.
“What is wrong with you? You’ve had everything a boy could want. A good education. The best of tutors. Yet still you act like some street kid who doesn’t know better. That girl died. Did you know that? You’re charged with her murder.”
The news of Melissa’s death hit me like a brick to the face. Whatever he expected me to say, I couldn’t speak. It was like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs.
“Did you hear me?” he bellowed, leaning his face down in front of mine, so close I saw the gold flecks in his brown eyes as they flashed his anger at me.
“Victor, don’t do this to him. His friend is dead. He needs time to mourn her. You can talk about the rest of it later.”
I looked at my mother as she spoke to defend me, knowing I didn’t deserve her kindness. My father stormed out, leaving her alone with me. I didn’t deserve that either.
Cradling my face in her hands, she smiled that gentle smile she always gave when she thought I needed saving. “Tristan, I don’t know how to reach you. What is it that makes you like this?”
What she meant by ‘like this’ was a mystery to me. Like what? Any normal American twenty-two year old male? Every other person my age I knew? But I understood my role in this drama and acted accordingly. “I don’t know.”
“Honey, if you have a problem, we can get you help. There are places where you can get help.”
I couldn’t give her the answer I knew she needed to hear. She needed me to say I’d accept her help and stop living my life. I couldn’t tell her that, so I just nodded, letting her think she’d saved me, at least for now. My father was right, but I didn’t care. Someday, my mother would realize that too.
I shook my head to push away the memory of that Tristan. That me had been selfish and careless, thinking I was the only one whose wants and needs mattered. God, I couldn’t help but cringe at who I’d been all those years ago.