Chapter 11

Lindy awoke with Holly standing at the foot of the bed bearing water and aspirin. “Take your medicine beautiful and let’s get you dressed. MacDonald’s breakfast?”

“Sure. Joe and I live just downstairs, so I can change if that’s okay. He won’t be there.”

“Okay.”

Holly had brought in her clothes, which Lindy put on sans underwear. “Henry?” she asked.

“Harry’s still sleeping.”

“Good,” Lindy chuckled.

Joe surprised Lindy when she opened the door. “You’re here!”

“I was worried and had Connie drop me off.”

“I’m fine,” Lindy said while Holly said, “You should be.”

“What happened?” Joe growled.

“Henry was a bit rough, but he’s over it.”

“Her pussy was red but not bleeding,” Holly reported.

“You checked?” Joe asked.

“I made sure she came.”

“Thanks.”

“Joe?”

Joe opened his arms and Lindy filled them, her head tilted back for a lengthy kiss. “He was covered?” he asked after.

“I made sure,” said Holly.

“Thanks.”

Holly looked around. “Weird place.”

“An artist owns it,” Lindy explained. “She lets us stay here. She’s with her wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really my thing,” Holly pouted at the paintings.

“Her stuff’s pretty dark,” Lindy responded.

“I’m really not much into art,” Holly admitted.

“What are you interested in if you don’t mind me asking?” Joe asked.

“Music, mostly like classic rock.”

“KQRS?” Lindy suggested. “She’s from Minneapolis, Joe.”

“Yeah. And some new pop stuff if I can dance to it. I like dancing whether in a club or when I’m alone,” she blushed.

“We have to bring her to the dance contest!”

“Sure.”

“What dance contest?”

“It’s at this huge strip club in Long Beach. There’s like this adult store right next door where you can dress up in whatever costume you like, with those ridiculous platforms and everything!”

“With my plain face?”

“Who cares? It’s all amateurs. Besides with that tall slender body and your pert titties and your killer ass, you’ll kill it.”

“You remember.”

“I remember our bath.” They shared a smile.

“So MacDonald’s?” Holly reminded Lindy.

“Breakfast Joe?”

“Sure. Let me throw something on.”

Lindy accompanied him to put on some panties, grabbing a peasant skirt over it. She brought it out to put on in front of Holly.

“Joe’s awfully cute,” Holly said.

“It’s a long story,” Lindy responded to the implied question.

“Tell me.”

“It started with Joe and Henry when they were in college.”

Joe emerged from the bedroom dressed in shorts and a Motorhead t-shirt.

“Lemmy right?” Holly asked.

“Yep.”

“I caught them during their last tour at First Avenue. They were loud but awesome.”

“That they were. Ready?” Joe grinned.

“I was just going to tell Holly our story.”

“We can tell her on the way. I’m starved.”

“Me too.”

“Me three,” Holly giggled, the one Henry disliked but Lindy found it hilarious, laughing briefly.

Along the way they told their story to Holly, finishing it while waiting for their food. When they sat down with their breakfast sandwiches, Holly began, “I had a friend who started in the business when I did, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t actually,” said Joe.

“Holly’s a prostitute Joe.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Ever been with one?”

“Not that I know of.” When they laughed, he explained, “I mean she might have been one, but she never said.”

“The way Joe fucks, it could have been a freeby,” Lindy chuckled.

A couple prim and proper folks looked disgusted at their table, probably having to do with the two young kids with them.

“Maybe keep the expletives out of the conversation?” Joe suggested.

“Yeah. Sorry,” she said towards the family, being ignored.

“Anyway,” Holly continued, “Sandy was really great and really smart. She kind of helped me get my name out there on the sites. But she liked to get high on whatever was available, booze, smoke, speed, whatever. Then she got into Oxys and then into heroin. I nearly lost her when she ODed. It was like a wake up call for her. She got into NA, you know, narcotics anonymous, and she decided to get off the corner if you know what I mean. She started stripping at night, and she was beautiful with a sexy body so it worked for her, and went to school during the day to study to be a counselor to deal with people like her. We’d still get together. She called me her rock because I’d listen to her without giving her shit or whatever. What struck me was, and that’s why I bring this up, is that she was like this really sweet, deep, caring, intelligent person when she was straight, you know, not even caring if I was so much less smart than her because it didn’t matter, but when she’d get wasted it’s like she was a completely different person, not caring for anyone but herself, shallow and even cruel sometimes. Someone I didn’t even really like, you know? It’s like why would she ever want to be like that?”

“I think people like that are just susceptible,” Lindy responded. “Being deep and sweet and smart, she’s obviously highly sensitive, and people like that want to dull themselves, become numb, because it can be too much.”

“Someone like you?” Holly asked.

“I’ve actually never done anything to excess except booze. Anything else, coke or pot, are usually just offered, situational, you know. But maybe. Sometimes, to be graphic, I feel like a walking wound, all exposed and painful, and drinking gets rid of that. It’s also a condition, specifically a binge drinking alcoholic.”

“When you drink you keep drinking.”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like Sandy.”

“I suppose it does. What you’re suggesting is...”

“What I’m suggesting is I wish people like you and Sandy realized how much more awesome you are when you’re straight. I really wish you’d get into a program of some kind, Lindy. Something like AA or maybe just talk to a counselor like Sandy wanted to be.”

“What happened to her Holly,” Joe asked.

“She did what I guess a lot of users do,” Holly sniffled. “She fell off the wagon and it killed her.”

“Doing what she would have done when she’d gotten used to it.”

“Yeah. I mean of all the stupid things...”

“You’re right Holly,” said Lindy. “Of all the stupid things smart people can do, addiction is the dumbest. She should have known taking as much as she did would kill her, but she did it anyway.”

“Do you think ... she did it on purpose?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible she lost herself to it and shut off her brain, which is what she wanted. Or it could have been really strong shit.”

“Yeah. No way to know.”

“Yeah. I know what I should do. Joe tells me enough. And there’s Henry and his demon prick.” They actually laughed at that. “And Connie shamed me in order to try to get Joe to herself, fortunately not succeeding though I couldn’t blame Joe if he did. I want to get my shit together, and then suddenly I don’t. And that’s all it takes, just a step and I’m gone, becoming party girl again.”

“It’s like every day all the time,” Holly nodded.

“Admitting you’re a drunk is the first step, maybe the biggest step, but it has to be relentless doesn’t it, along with all the other steps? I look at Joe and think, I should do it for him. I think of Henry and think, what the fuck? I’m actually fucking Joe’s enemy because Joe’s enemy wants revenge, and how easily I’m susceptible, just a gallon of Wild Turkey and the asshole is raping me. But as bad as that is, as bad as I’m treating Joe and myself, it’s not enough. Do I have to actually die and be reborn like you’re friend? Do I have to completely bottom out, face in the gutter, to finally do what Joe tells me I should do, what you’re telling me I should do, what even I fucking tell me I should do? I swear I look at a bottle and I’m that slutty drunk party girl again.

“I told you why Joe’s with Connie and not just with me. I know he needs to trust me, and I need to prove his trust, and getting off the bottle won’t be enough.”

“Why not?”

“Think of Sandy, Holly.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Lindy, if I’m putting too much pressure on you to do the long haul...”

“Don’t you dare, Joe. Don’t you dare make that excuse, because however I am, I can’t even conceive how much worse I’d be without you. Unless you want me to bottom out right here and now. Fuck Joe, I’m sorry. Talk about too much pressure.”