“Still.” I reach down and nudge the guy. “Hey, you. Wake up.”
Nothing. No movement.
“Is he dead?”
“No, he’s breathing.” I shake him harder. “Asshole. Wake up.”
The guy grumbles something and rolls onto his back. I shake him again, slap him a bit, and finally he starts to come to, groaning. He blinks at the light, wincing away from it, and slowly focuses on me.
“Let me guess,” he says and his voice is surprisingly strong and melodic. It’s low and laced with tones, the sort of voice made to read books or to run a radio station. It’s strange, coming out of a sunken face like that. “Cowan sent you.”
“That’s right,” I say. “We’re the producers.”
“About time. Hand me my kit, please. I’d like to top myself off before we leave.”
“Absolutely not,” Blair says, horrified, but I move toward the nightstand. “Baptist!”
I hesitate, looking between them. Rodrick seems still somewhat high, but like he’s already coming down, and Blair has her hands over her mouth like she can’t believe I’d consider giving the guy drugs. But she doesn’t like what happens when a person goes through withdrawal.
I’ve seen it before. The shaking, the sweating, the vomiting and crying. It’s a nightmare and a hell, and junkies will do absolutely anything to avoid going through that mess. Which means it doesn’t matter if I give him the kit now or he freaks out and steals it later—he’s getting high.
“We can’t mess around right now. One more dose then we’ll get him straight.”
“Oh, darling, I’m not getting straight,” Rodrick says and chuckles to himself.
I ignore him and hand over the kit. He takes it and prepares his next shot with surprising dexterity for a guy that looks like he’s on the verge of starving to death. Blair stares in disgust before storming out.
I watch her go, my heart like a stone. She won’t ever understand—how could she, when she’s never experienced any of this before?
But I’ve seen it before. I know what it does to a person and how it can rip a family into pieces.
“That one doesn’t like me,” Rodrick says as he sinks the needle into his arm. “Ah, darling, that’s like coming home.”
“That one doesn’t like intravenous drug use and neither do I, but I don’t feel like you puking in the car on the way over. Don’t overdo it, I need you mobile.”
“Yes, right,” he says and sighs, leaning back. “Perhaps I need a break for a moment. Just a little shut-eye before we go.” He grins happily in the throes of the drug.
I remove the needle, pull off the band, and slap him hard.
He blinks at me and barely reacts, even though I hit him with enough force to make his face snap to the side.
I sigh and drag him out of bed. He’s a big guy, even if he is emaciated from years of hard drug use. He’s got no bag, no extra clothes, nothing but a messy hotel room filled with trash and drugs, and I definitely don’t want to know the details of this little arrangement.
“Listen, bud, I don’t know you at all,” I say as I pull him out the door and into the sunlight. The poor bastard hisses like a vampire and I wonder if he’s seen the outdoors in weeks. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful guy. Real charmer. But unfortunately, you got mixed up with the wrong director. I’m pretty sure Cowan’s going to get us all killed by the end of this.”
I pause at the top of the stairwell. Rodrick’s looking at me, glassy-eyed and spaced. Down below, Blair’s got the car running.
I grab Rodrick’s face and make sure he’s listening.
“If you fuck with the girl, I’ll kill you myself.”
He smiles awkwardly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I pull him downstairs, shove him in the back of the car, and Blair drives off, glaring like she’s going to rip up the road with her mind the whole way.
Chapter11
Blair