I got her back.
I’m more than happy to test them.
I need to space out for a while, anyway. I’m sick of this damn day. “Fuck trying them at the clubhouse, I’ll eat them now. Show me the way!”
“Lizzy, can you watch the store while I head out back?” Trixie calls out to her staff member.
“Sure thing!”
Trixie turns, leading me through the kitchen into the back area. She walks me to a concealed door, opens it, and we enter, making sure to pull it shut behind us. I furrow my brows, but then when I see the safe door, I realize what’s going on. Trixie punches in the code, it beeps, then she pulls on the heavy handle, and it opens. As we walk through, she looks back at me smiling, the door automatically shuts once we pass through into the small vestibule chamber where plastic see-through blinds hang down. Pushing our way through to a roller door, she slides it up, and instantly the smell hits me. It’s then I realize why there are so many safety precautions. The barricades need to be in place to block out the pungent smell of the product as well as to hide its existence.
We walk further inside, and there’s row after row of benches which line the large area, all packed with what look like desserts that are ready to go. There’s even a refrigerated section. Along the back wall is the kitchen, complete with multiple industrial stoves, sinks, white goods, you name it.
This is an elite setup.
Nycto and Trixie did good!
I like how covert this all is. “You must love this part of the store.”
She shrugs. “It certainly brings in a hell of a lot more money than out the front, but those who purchase these goods generally buy in bulk, and we ship the product out to them in a mass-production enterprise.”
“Okay, show me these treats.”
She hesitates but walks me over to a bench where a tray of green macarons sits. “Green… creative,” I mock.
She rolls her eyes. “They’re lime-flavored.”
“Okay, let’s do this.” I pick one up, it’s smooth in texture on the outside, and as I bite into it, it’s a little chewy but soft. The tang of the lime hits me immediately and tastes a lot like her Key lime pie. I can’t taste the dope at all, and the flavor is incredible. Swallowing the whole thing down, I lick my lips. “This is fucking delicious, Trix.”
I reach out to pick up another one, but her eyes widen while her hand comes out, stopping me just as I go to put it in my mouth. “You really shouldn’t if you plan on riding back any time soon.”
I scoff, shoving the whole thing in my mouth at once. “One more for the road,” I say with my mouth full of the tasty treat.
Trixie grimaces, shaking her head. “You really should let it hit you and mellow out before you take off, VP.”
I wave my hand through the air. “I’m built outta brick, Trix, I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know how it goes, though, okay?” I turn to walk out of this elite fucking setup to the main café, with Trixie following me apprehensively.
As I make it to the front of the café, West strolls inside for protective detail.
My skin begins to prickle. My head starts to feel like it’s floating or spinning, not sure which. Clearing my throat as I walk over to West, I grip his shoulder looking directly into his eyes. I see my reflection in them and swear my irises are red, so I blink a few times, which knocks my reflection from his eyes.
He tilts his head, studying me. “You okay, VP?”
“Call me if there are further problems. I dealt with the idiots who were here, so I don’t expect any further issues.” I ignore him.
West nods.
I slap his back, then turn for the exit. “Void,” Trixie calls out. I turn back to look at her and blink a few more times to get things into perspective.
Is there two of her?
“Ride slowly, okay?”
I give her a two-fingered salute, heading out the door toward my ride. The shining chrome is even brighter for some strange reason. I blink rapidly again, shielding my eyes as I walk over, then slide quickly onto my bike. The drugs and alcohol in my system are working their way through my body right now.
I know I shouldn’t ride, but the trip home is short.
I know I can make it.
As I take off, my bike lurches. I widen my eyes, not anticipating the speed in which I accelerate. Still, I hang on, taking all the appropriate turns, focusing on the road with all my attention. I need to keep focused, so I make it back in one fucking piece.
I’m not sure how, but as my eyes focus, I try to take in my surroundings and figure out where the hell I am. From what I can tell, I’m about twenty minutes in the opposite direction of the clubhouse out on Van Dyke Road. Fairly sure my bike’s swerving, so I try to correct it, zoning my eyes in on the road like a hawk. The trees either side of this stretch of asphalt is monotonous. There’s a sense of foreboding creeping in and taking hold of me.
I need to keep focused.
I blink rapidly, narrowing my eyes, but a white statue up ahead on the edge of the road catches my attention. As I approach, I take my eyes off the road, for a mere second, only one second.
The statue isn’t a statue at all—it’s an image of my father.
Panic sears through me, my body jerking. I pull on the throttle instinctively, making my back tire squeal and then slide out from under me. My bike hitches, turning to the side, catching on something, then I’m hurtled off over the handlebars. I fly through the air as my bike somersaults along the road. Metal scratching, breaking, and squealing grinds in my ears as I fly across the top of the asphalt, the whole thing playing out in slow-fucking-motion. Then I tense, bracing for impact, slamming hard on the road. Sliding along, my body rolls with the friction, and I groan as my arms graze up to high hell tearing my skin to pieces with gravel rash. My jeans rip apart as I come to a stop in a ditch at the side of the road.
My head spins like a motherfucker, and my body aching so damn much I wanna hurl. I look around and see my bike is resting against a tree in the ditch a few feet away from me. I lay on my back, looking up at the sky, panting for breath as the clouds form multiple skulls and crossbones in the sky.
I know I’m still fucking tripping as I lay in the ditch, broken and bleeding.
I’m not sure how long I lay here for, staring up at the skulls. I swear they’re mocking me, but I need to do something. I can’t just lay here tripping. My hand slides into my jeans pocket for my cell.
Coughing, my entire body tenses, the pain incredible as I bring my cell into my line of sight and dial the number I need right now—Nerve.
“VP! Everything okay at Trixie’s?”
I grimace, shifting on the ground to try and get some semblance of comfort. “Nerve… I’m tripping hard. I’ve eaten asphalt, brother, in a bad way.”
“Fuck! How bad are you hurt? Do you need an EMT?”
I glance down at my legs, where there are no obvious open fractures. “No, I’m good, you should be able to patch me up. My ride, not so much.”
“Okay, hold on… I’m coming. I’ll have Voltage track your cell.”
“Thanks, brother.” I end the call, dropping my cell to the ground because I’m too fucked-up to keep talking.
Trying to hide those fucking skull clouds from my sight, I slump my arm over my eyes.