Page 46 of Gluttony

Using my finger to unlock it, I notice the litany of text messages from my “Big Bro”. Fuck. Good thing it was hidden because it wouldn’t have been a good look for the guys to see them all.

They start out normal with Mickey asking where I am. There are more than fifteen notifications just from him. By the time I get to the end of the thread, it’s obvious he’s no longer cheering me on like I’m his prized pony doing a show.

Big Bro: Make sure you find the Abyss or don’t bother coming home.

Guilt sets in as I stare at the message, memories from our past years flashing in my mind and me wondering what the fuck we’re even doing together. I can’t even remember the last time he was truly nice to me. Back then, he was always doting on me, always making me feel special.

As I stare at this text, there’s a kind of shift inside me and it has nothing to do with my bruised rib. Okay, maybe a little.

Without thinking too much about it, my fingers start flying across the keys on my phone.

Me: Meet me @ my apt in 30.

Maybe not my best decision making.

The ride in the subway was one circle away from the deepest hole of Hell. I feel like shit and probably look even worse. The shower I took at the guys’ place was a joke since I couldn’t lift my arms up above my head. I ended up wetting my hair but not washing it, which means I’m also freezing my ass off in the overcast streets of New York City barely out of February weather.

In short: I’m freezing my ass off and that Ibuprofen is doing fuck all to block the pain. Still, I have to do this. I have to look Mickey straight in the eyes and know what the fuck is happening.

By the time I get to my place, I’m ready to throw in the towel and say fuck it to life as a whole, but when I see him, I force myself to stand a little taller by steeling my spine and squaring my shoulders. To be clear, it doesn’t feel good at all.

Mickey is at the newspaper stand, looking over the tabloids and chuckling. When he raises his head, our eyes meet and it occurs to me that my belly doesn’t flip the way it did earlier when Orion looked at me.

Putting the rag of lies down, he whistles like he’s impressed and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about that.

“Damn, he did a real number on you, didn’t he?” Wow.

“Thanks for your concern.” I grab his bicep, getting a handful of leather jacket, to pull him to my front door but he yanks his arm out of my hold.

“Careful, it’s new.” I roll my eyes and wince at the recent headache that’s attacked my frontal lobe. Why do I hurteverywhere? And why the fuck did I think coming here was so fucking important?

The walk up the stairs to my studio is difficult but I think seeing Mickey gives me a sort of second wind so I can get what I need and go on. Slipping my key in the hole, I open my door and all of a sudden I’m thrown back to that morning. My suitcase is still next to the entrance, with my high heels that I planned on wearing once we got on the plane. The carry-on bag on the top of the case.

My mind fills in the gaps with the trash bag, the alley, the kicks and the punches. The memories flood my consciousness and it’s like I’m right back there getting the shit beat out of me. I mean, yeah, I fought back, but all in all, I left a piece of myself back there.

The closing of my door reels me back to the present and there’s no way I can talk about anything other than the reason I’m here.

“You said you’d take care of it.” I’m not sure what I’m asking but it feels like the right place to start.

“Yep, and I always do, don’t I? Exhibit A.” His hand shows me off from top to bottom and, apparently, I’m the proof in the pudding.

“You did this to me?” My voice cracks with the impossible words I say. He’s not even lying or pretending at this point.

“Technically, a buddy of mine did, but yeah…needed to speed shit up so I did what I had to.”

“You had me jumped in a fucking alley?”

“Didn’t give him any specifics. Knew you were leaving and he just improvised. To be fair, I told him to rough you up, not deface you. Christ.” Then he chuckles and my entire world comes to a crashing halt.

He did this to me and he’s okay with it.

Shaking my head, I take a few steps back, like being this close to him is dangerous for my well-being.

“You asshole.”

Mickey’s amused eyes transform in an instant. Suddenly, they’re narrowed and his lips are pressed in a thin line.

“This is your fucking fault, Bowie. You had one fucking job and couldn’t get it done, so I took the reins. And look; you were at their place, weren’t you? And this is how you fucking thank me?”

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