Chapter 17 -- Another Addiction, Another Revelation

Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door,
Same old line you used to use before.
I said yeah, well,
What am I supposed to do?
I didn't know what I was getting into.
So you've had a little trouble in town?
Now you're keeping some demon down.
Stop draggin' my...
Stop draggin' my...
Stop draggin' my heart around!

--Stop Draggin' My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks / Tom Petty)

I saw Sherry during the three classes we shared the next day, and she usually lowered her eyes as she realized that I knew about the "lessons" she needed to learn. I wished that I could have prevented that bit of embarrassment, but I knew that Camille indeed came up with a less embarrassing solution to her predicament.

I caught up with Sherry at the end of the day.

"Have you seen Tim Hawking today?" I asked.

"That loser?" Sherry said, making a face. "I saw him after third period, but I managed to turn away before he said anything to me." She shuddered.

I smiled. The command I gave her seems to have worked.

Kristen was sitting in her Camaro when I got out to the parking lot.

Inside the car, Kristen was so angry I thought she'd burn a hole in the dashboard where she was glaring.

"What's up, Goddess?" I asked.

"A nerdy little brat tried to give me something that looked like your lucky tickets," Kristen spat. "I told him if he ever tried to give anything to me, he's lose both his hands and another appendage of my choice. To think, a kid like him..."

It wasn't so long ago that I was a kid like Tim Hawking, but I kept my comment to myself.

"I'm sorry, Jim. It just bothered me. I mean, the nerve..."

"Think of it this way," I pointed out. "He didn't hand you the ticket, did he?"

"No..." Kristen said, slowly.

"At least, I was able to protect you. I don't think I have enough tickets to protect the entire world, though." I sighed.

Kristen started the car, her spirits a bit brighter.

"What was his expression like when you didn't take his ticket?"

Kristen actually smiled, now. "His mouth hung open so wide, I wouldn't have been surprised if a cat walked into it."

I laughed, both out of Kristen's choice of words, and how surprised Tim must have really looked.

Tuesday evening, Camille came over, and we discussed how we could possibly deal with Tim by Saturday. No ideas came up, and there were a few questions I needed to ask Camille in private.

Finally, I went downstairs to practice a few racks of pool. I found that thinking of other things, like lining up the miraculous shot Camille made that morning, might keep me sane. After three attempts, I realized that you needed to hit the ball quite hard just to make it to the fourth bank.

"A little right English," Camille said when she saw my attempt.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Right English--hit the cue just a bit to the right and maybe a little bit higher than its center of mass. Hit it strong and the spin on the ball will make sure the banks will hit correctly."

I tried to hit the cue the way that Camille described. I made it closer but still missed, only hitting the ball out of the corner.

"That's better. Now aim just to the right of this diamond." Camille indicated a diamond on the bank. She put her finger at the point where I was supposed to aim.

I tried it again, and let it rip.

The ball hit all four banks and the nine ball slowly sank into the pocket.

"That's it. Piece of cake. It's a sucker shot."

"Sucker shot?" I asked.

"You practice this until you get it perfect. Make sure your percentage is about nine out of ten. When I was playing with Kris, it was very difficult to get the eight ball sunk with the nine and cue at the perfect setup. Kristen never realized that I was working to get into the right position and probably thought I was just showing off."

"You practiced that shot?" I asked, laughing at Camille's deviousness.

"As I said, I really loved seeing Kristen get angry. I wasn't trying to make her gamble."

"Stop apologizing," I said softly.

"Kristen's not coming down here," Camille said.

"I know," I admitted. "Kristen realizes now why I was upset. I didn't even have to tell her."

"Why were you so upset?" Camille asked.

"My dad was an alcoholic," I said.

"Oh," Camille answered.

There was a minute of uncomfortable silence.

"Want to play a game?"

"No," I said. "You can teach me more sucker shots, though."

"How about simple bank shots? They will come in more handy for when you actually play."

Camille showed me some of the standard bank shots. She taught me about putting spin ("English") on a ball, and how it affects bank shots, and how it's useful to get around an inconveniently placed ball.

As I was taking a shot, I asked Camille, "Why couldn't you give Kristen a ticket yesterday?"

Camille looked at me seriously. "I knew you'd ask that. I'm not exactly sure what would happen but I don't want to do anything that could possibly affect the fact that the tickets don't work on me right now. If I use them--even once--then I might end up stuck with them again."

"Why couldn't you tell us yesterday?" I asked.

"I cannot talk about the tickets except to you. Having Kristen helping us with ideas may become difficult for me. Forgive me if it looks like I can't tell you something when she's around."

I nodded. "I once tried giving the roll to Kristen and asked her to hand me one. She told me that my wish couldn't be granted. How did your sister get rid of her tickets? If she got rid of them, then maybe we can trick Tim into losing his."

Camille shrugged.

"How did you get rid of them?"

"I cannot answer that question."

I nodded, and took a few more shots before I realized that I had asked the wrong question, but Camille also gave me the wrong answer!

Up until this moment, Camille told me that she just avoided the tickets. Now she implied that she got rid of them, which might mean that she actually may have had possession of them at one time.

I'm not sure if Camille realized her mistake, but she changed the subject. "Tim's going to find out something is strange about Sherry and Kristen. In fact, Kris told me that he already knows they don't work on her."

"Kris just had a hissy fit when he tried to give it to her," I pointed out. "Maybe he just thinks that she's a bit stuck up." I thought to myself, and slowly added. "I know that I used to think that about her."

"He's going to notice that Kristen and you are inseparable. You might be a possible target, and maybe possibly Patty."

I put Patty on my list of people to protect from Tim.

"I'd hate to receive a ticket from him," I sighed. "It might work and he might find out about my tickets. I'm also afraid of trying to give him a ticket first--if it doesn't work, it would give away one of our secrets!"

"I'd say that things are about to come to a head real soon. It looks as if the two of you are heading full steam ahead into each other."

I sunk my third bank in a row as I nodded to Camille.

We didn't talk much more about Tim or the magical tickets. Instead, Camille gave me a couple of pointers on how to hold the cue to get better control.

After a half hour, the two of us went upstairs.

The apartment looked empty, but the door to the master bedroom was closed.

The two of us went into separate bedrooms.

The next morning, after breakfast, Kristen went back to the bedroom for her morning shower.

I went to join her, but Camille put her hand on my shoulder. "Jim?"

"Yes, Cammy?"

"It's... difficult staying here with you two."

"Huh?"

"The more that I'm with the two of you, the more... I've told you that I'm drawn to you, Jim."

I was confused. "Drawn to me, how?"

"Sexually."

Oh, shit. I remembered Camille telling me that. I thought we got past that, though.

Camille saw my expression and said, "I'm not sure why I feel that way with you. It might be your tickets, but I know that I don't feel that way toward Tim Hawking."

"I'm sorry, Cammy..."

"There's another problem, Jim."

"What?" I asked.

"It's something that I avoided telling you at Lake Shore Point. Staying here has made it worse for me."

I was confused, but I was starting to get apprehensive. "What are you telling me?"

"I'm also in love with Kristen."

I thought that I couldn't be surprised any more. "In love?"

"I think my sister did it to me," Camille said, her eyes downcast. "I know that I went to Kristen, and she turned me down. I felt so ashamed. I was in love with her, and she just laughed at me. I never really tried to get with her again, and found myself thinking of her constantly, and eventually started to hate her guts. Kristen had this power over me, even if she didn't know it. I was happy that she was on your list for getting even with the tickets..."

"Huh?" I was stunned by this admission.

"I mean, I figured that you'd teach her a lesson in humility. I really thought of Kristen as a bitch at the time, mostly due to the way I felt about her. I remembered that you didn't do much with Patty and Wendy, so I figured that we'd have a big laugh at Kristen's expense. It wasn't until the next day that I realized that you could become the same monster that Debbie became... and I was helping you!"

I sighed once more.

Camille saw my reaction, and softly said, "But you made it better..."

"I know," I said sadly. "We talked about that."

Camille shook her head. "I always felt guilty about that. I love Kristen. Only three people know this. Debbie, who probably is the one that made me love her; Lynette, after she told me that she had a crush on Kristen as well; and you."

I didn't know Lynette well enough, but was surprised to hear from Camille that she might have lesbian tendencies. "Lynette?"

"Lynette and I fool around, and I doubt my sister had anything to do with that. I'm not in love with Lynette like I am with Kristen, though." Camille closed her eyes for a few moments and continued. "Anyway, Lynette and I don't advertise our relationship to the world, and it's not like we're going to spend our lives together. Aside from any girls that Debbie made me do, Lynette may be the only one that I did by my own choice. Even so, sometimes, I find myself thinking of Kristen when I'm with Lynette."

I didn't know how to respond to this, so I said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Jim," Camille said, hugging me. "I don't want to steal Kristen away from you."

"I don't think you could," I said with a sigh.

"Huh?"

"Kristen still has her addiction, Cammy," I pointed out. "If she decides to sleep with you one day, she will still need me. I don't like that one bit, but I can't seem to think of anything that I can do to prevent it."

Camille looked at me for a few moments. "I never thought about that."

I shrugged. "It's my mess. I'm going to have to clean it up. I don't have a clue how, but I will do everything I can. If, afterward, Kristen hates me, then that will be my ultimate punishment for what I did to Kristen last fall."

Camille hugged me again, and when we finally pulled apart, I could see tears in her eyes. It wasn't surprising--I had tears in my own.

I decided to grab the bull by the horns.

"Go into the master bedroom, and from there into the bathroom and into the shower. Find the soap while you kiss her. She'll open her eyes and she'll be surprised, but start soaping her breasts and whisper, 'Jim says it's OK.'"

"Huh?"

"Cammy. I spoke to you in plain English. Isn't that a language that you, your class' valedictorian, can speak?"

Camille's eyes opened wide. "You mean... ?"

"Treat her gently," I advised. "Make her feel good, but don't make her too worried."

"Soap her breasts?" Camille asked, still unsure of herself.

"Trust me. Soap her breasts and she's yours."

Camille looked at me for a few moments and then walked toward the master bedroom. Before she entered it, she stopped, and turned around, as if she was going to say something.

I waited, but we stood there, staring at each other.

Camille turned as if she were to continue toward the bedroom, but stopped again. She ran back over to me and kissed me. "Thanks, Oogie! You know, you are a real friend to the cheerleaders to help us deal with Tim Hawking!"

I watched Camille tiptoe into the master bedroom to give Kristen an interesting surprise.

After Camille entered the master bedroom, I wondered why I told Camille to take her shower with Kristen. After all, Kristen never gave me permission to do anything like that, and after Camille left, I realized that I hoped I hadn't crossed a line.

However, Camille alerted me to one of the biggest dangers I faced. She was a friend--more than just a friend--to me, and to Kristen. I think she told me about her love for Kristen and me in a moment of weakness, and if she were to admit that to me, she must have felt it hard.

I knew how hard one can fall for my lovely blonde Goddess, even without the benefit of having that love imposed upon you unwillingly by a ticket. Even with Camille being a female, I knew that Kristen was quite sure of her heterosexuality. I didn't see the two of us as being competition for Kristen's affections, just like I didn't have a problem with Kristen's apparent ongoing relationship with her brother. I figured that Camille's love was a different expression of love than mine. Of course, if Kristen didn't want to swing that way then that would be her choice, but they had been together in that bathroom for a while.

I started to understand the concept that Kristen's brother Will explained to me: bisexuality. I still didn't agree with Will completely about it, though. As I mentioned, I felt no jealousy about Kristen and either Camille or Will. The truth of the matter was that what I told Camille before was the one truth that I never told anybody--not even myself!--up until now.

On New Year's Day, Kristen told me that her addiction made me hers, but in truth, she was quite mistaken. I loved Kristen because she was a wonderful person. She was more mature than me, but also more impulsive. She fit a part of me that I didn't even suspect needed a connecting part until she was there. On the other hand, I still had moments when I suspected that Kristen's love for me was just a way for her to get her fix without making her feel less in control.

That was punishment enough for me, I thought. Maybe Kristen and I were doomed to a life where she would never love me as much as I love her, despite all her acting to the contrary.

At the same time, I realized that I might have been more than a bit presumptuous about giving Kristen so casually to Camille. After all, both Kristen and Camille told me that Debbie offered Camille to Kristen and Kris apparently turned her down.

The girls spent a half hour in the shower. Neither one could look me straight in the eye when they finally came out of my bedroom.

"I was hoping that we'd not be late for school," I said.

We took Kristen's Camaro to school. Both girls kissed me as we parked, and got out and headed for homeroom.

I was quite moody, and Sherry noticed my feelings in first period. Between first and second periods, Sherry tried to get me to talk. "What's up, Jim?"

"I have a lot on my mind," I said.

Sherry reddened, no doubt believing that I was thinking of her extracurricular "lessons."

I sighed. I found myself making more mistakes than great decisions lately.

At lunch, Kristen didn't appear to be angry at me. In fact, she didn't appear to be as embarrassed as she was earlier when she came out of her bedroom this morning.

"What's wrong, Jim?" Patty asked about halfway through lunch.

"Huh?" I asked. I hadn't been listening to what the girls were saying.

"What's going on?" Patty asked.

"Problems at home," I said.

Patty looked at Kristen, who shrugged.

I tuned everybody out and kept on thinking about the situations that I was about to fuck up.

When the class bell rang, it surprised me. Sherry, Patty, and Kristen were all looking at me strangely.

As we left the cafeteria, I held Patty back. "Patty, I need to talk with you... privately."

"You seemed a million miles away," Patty said.

"Can you meet me at the band room for a few moments?"

As we were walking toward the music room, I noticed Tim Hawking about halfway down the corridor. I don't think he saw me, but I immediately spun around, surprising Patty. "Let's go upstairs and come back downstairs."

"I'll be late for class..."

"Please, Patty."

"All right."

We took the long way, and finally made it to the band room unmolested.

"What's up, Jim?" Patty asked.

Instead of answering, I handed Patty a ticket.

"You have one wish."

"Answer me truthfully the following two questions."

"Your wish is my command."

"Do you know Tim Hawking, and has anybody other than me ever given you a lucky ticket?"

"Yes, and yes."

Shit, and more shit!

"Did Tim give you a ticket?" I asked.

"Huh?"

Shit again. I handed Patty another ticket and asked the question again.

"No."

I sighed. However, if Patty received a ticket from somebody else... who was it?

Another ticket later, I found out: Debbie Lombardi.

I decided that Debbie could wait for a while.

One more ticket later, I protected Patty from Tim Hawking. I left a bewildered Patty behind me and it wasn't until I got to gym class that I realized that I should have told her the situation with the tickets.

In the past few days, I used quite a few tickets. So much for my desire to cool down on using them. However, I was starting to feel quite paranoid.

On Wednesday night, I realized that Camille gave me a clue to how I could get more information.

"Camille?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"You said you know where your sister lives."

Camille nodded.

"Is she still there?" I asked.

"Do you intend to call her?"

Actually, I didn't. I shook my head. "Kristen, could you get me reservations on a red-eye from Chicago to New York City?"

Both girls' eyes went wide.

The "New York City" I envisaged in my mind was Manhattan: big buildings, large crowds, Wall Street, the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, and the Chrysler building.

Camille's sister lived in Queens, which was still New York City, but not on Manhattan island. From La Guardia, I took a cab to the apartment where I was told Debbie lived. Kristen had given me a lot of cash for such expenses, which were in various pockets and in my shoes. After all, New York had a reputation!

As I was driven, I could see the world famous skyline and I guess I stared like a typical tourist. The cab driver didn't say much, but I doubted he spoke English very well. When we stopped, I was surprised by the amount of the fare, but paid it and gave the driver a five dollar tip.

At Debbie's apartment building, I knocked on the door to her apartment, and it opened a bit, with a chain keeping the door from opening too far.

"Hello, Ms. Lombardi," I said to Debbie Lombardi's familiar face. "I need to talk with you."

"How did you get upstairs?"

"A teenager let me come in behind him. Please, I don't intend to harm you."

"What's this about?" Debbie asked. She then furrowed her brow and said, "Do I know you?"

I said the two words that I thought might get me into Debbie Lombardi's apartment.

They worked. Debbie closed the door, unlatched the chain, and then opened the door to let me inside. Once we were inside, Debbie asked, "How do you know about them?"

"Do you know who I am?" I asked.

"Should I?" Debbie asked, confused. "You look a bit familiar."

Had I changed that much in three years? "My name is Jim Crittenhouse."

"Jim? From Illinois?" Debbie was very surprised.

"Yes," I answered. "Cammy gave me your address."

"Why?"

I repeated those two words. Debbie looked shocked.

"Is Cammy abusing them?"

"I might be abusing them, Debbie."

"Huh?"

"I need to know about them. I found somebody else who is using them to ruin people's lives. I made a few mistakes when I first discovered them, but up until recently, I've mostly been using them as a weird 'truth serum.'"

Debbie looked at me. "That's strange. I thought Cammy got them."

"Huh?"

Debbie shook her head. "I was an asshole, Jim. I abused her. I think I may have even abused you, but not very much. You were just a kid. Even when I didn't abuse them..." Debbie ended with a sigh.

"What happened?"

Debbie sighed. "Why should I tell you?"

"There's somebody who is trying to ruin people's lives. You've done things like that, and you seem sorry now. I've done things like that, and now I'm trying to make things right. This other person tried to rape your sister."

Once again, Debbie sighed. She got up and went into her kitchen. She came back with a glass full of something that I recognized as whiskey.

Debbie offered me some, and I respectfully declined.

Debbie sighed and told me her story.

Debbie did indeed have possession of the tickets at one time.

Unfortunately, Debbie abused them. She discovered how they worked with Camille, and then with me. She found out a week or so after she found them that she could make an outrageous wish, and it would be granted, much to her horror. (Debbie never explained what this outrageous wish was, but told me that she swore to never use them again when she saw the consequences.)

It was about a month later that she found the tickets again. This time, she couldn't help but heed their siren song. (This was another area that I couldn't get Debbie to talk too much about.)

After a while, Debbie found herself to have bisexual tendencies, although she only did girl-girl things with her sister. (Debbie expected me to be surprised by this revelation; I wasn't and she was shocked.)

Debbie eventually got sick of her life, and left the Midwest. She wanted to get lost in Manhattan. She used the tickets to get enough money to be comfortable, and to just live her life anonymously.

One day, at a strip club, Debbie met the love of her life, a stripper named Jenny. Once they met, they hit it off immediately. Both of them discovered that they had an attraction for each other, and for the first time, Debbie found herself in love with somebody. She wanted the relationship pure, so Jenny was one of the few people she slept with that she hadn't seduced using a ticket.

Since Debbie had money, she decided to help Jenny fund a new club that Jenny envisioned. Jenny used to work in a number of "wiggler bars" (her name for strip clubs). Jenny told Debbie about her dream to own a place like the Ansonia Hotel on Broadway, but specializing in women patrons.

It was a shocking idea, but Debbie agreed to it.

The biggest difficulty was obtaining a liquor license. Such a club would be doomed without one, and the licensing bureau was giving them problems. In addition, there were problems with the local Board of Health.

Suddenly, a savior of sorts came into the picture. His name was Vinnie and he offered to help the two women for a small cut into the venture... only twenty percent.

The two girls were witnessing their dream flying away, and agreed that twenty percent wasn't too much of a price to pay, but only if Vinnie came through and made their problems with liquor and the Board of Health disappear. As soon as they agreed, their problems melted away like ice in a hot oven.

The club opened a year ago.

Vinnie had quite a head for the business. He suggested that Debbie and Jenny get official jobs as "Hostesses," where they could draw a nice income, and the girls did so.

Things were going fine, but after a few months, Debbie and Jenny noticed that there seemed to be slight problems with the books. They discovered that some of the people that they hired were less than scrupulous.

A bartender, for instance, was caught stealing money. Debbie confronted the guy, using her lucky tickets of course, and found out that he was part of a conspiracy orchestrated by Vinnie to rob the club blind. Vinnie, in addition, had managed to create a whole lot of shady deals that worried the two women.

Instead of firing the bartender, Debbie kept him on, using him to keep tabs on Vinnie.

Vinnie wasn't a stupid person, and found out that Debbie somehow had some sort of power over the bartender. Before the inevitable confrontation, however, Debbie managed to finally get rid of the tickets, and they disappeared forever. (This was another thing that Debbie would not discuss, no matter how much I asked her.)

This past December, Jenny was found dead in their apartment with slit wrists in the bathtub. Debbie found herself in agony... the person she loved, and one of the few that she never used a ticket on, was dead! There was a suicide note that said that she and Debbie's bartender were in cahoots, stealing money from the club. The bartender's body was discovered in the East River soon afterward.

Debbie knew that the suicide note was a fake. It was typed but not signed, and the wording was perfect. Debbie knew that Jenny was notorious in her inability to spell. The police stated that the note was indeed written on the typewriter found in their closet. There was no sign of foul play, but it seemed as if the police were all too eager to call it a suicide and drop the case. Debbie knew in her heart that Vinnie had something to do with Jenny's death, but she didn't have any proof.

After Jenny's funeral, Vinnie confronted Debbie with a notarized transaction that showed that Jenny "sold" her shares in the club to Vinnie. Debbie hired an investigator and found that there was indeed a deposit from Vinnie in Jenny's checking account. There was also another transaction a week later for a check of a similar amount made out to "cash" and that money was never found.

Debbie realized that Vinnie now owned sixty percent of the club... his original twenty plus Jenny's forty. As majority owner, he changed a lot of things, including suppliers and employees.

By contract, Debbie must continue to work there for another three years as a "Hostess," but now that Vinnie controlled the club, he now redefined the job description to be the equivalent of "Stripper." He also changed the clientele from all women to mostly male.

Now, the club is now just another "wiggler bar," which is what Debbie and Jenny wanted to prevent from the start. In addition, Vinnie has his own accountants doing the books, burying the profits from the operations with a whole bunch of "losses" and expenditures. There are drugs, and Debbie thinks that a few of the girls might be underage. There's little that she can do, since she's part owner of the club, she could be held legally liable, despite the fact that she has no say in the running of the club any more.

Debbie was now getting nothing from the club, as the profits are mostly negligible, and due to the shrinking profits, Debbie's paycheck is next to nothing. Nobody is interested in her shares of the place--nobody would be stupid enough to own a minority share in a place controlled by Vinnie. Vinnie has offered her a ridiculously low price himself, but Debbie realized that without her tickets or her job, she can't even afford this place here in Queens where she moved from Greenwich Village.

Debbie found herself in a terrible situation where she's forced to strip for Vinnie's club, and she's sometimes even forced to sleep with customers just to earn living expenses! She's now not just a stripper but also a hooker!

The police have raided the place once, and as "chief operating officer," Debbie was fined for various violations, and a number of the girls working there were busted for prostitution. Vinnie has "loaned" money to Debbie to pay the fines for herself and some of the girls in return for an extension of her "Hostess" contract. She's now in debt to Vinnie for over forty thousand dollars.

I was appalled by Debbie's story, and felt sorry for her, despite what she did to her own sister. I could see why Debbie didn't want to talk with Camille.

For some reason, Debbie's story was hazy on the aspect of the tickets. I kept asking her questions about them, especially as I saw her drinking continuously and refilling her glass, hoping the alcohol would lower her inhibitions about telling me what I wanted to know.

Debbie did give me some important information, though. "You need to be careful who you use the tickets on," Debbie warned. "Most people don't know that they've been handed tickets, but not all of them! Some people will do whatever you tell them to do, but afterward will be very suspicious of you."