White powder outlined her left nostril. Her pupils were the size of golf balls. Danny looked down both ends of the hallway. Fortunately, none of the show's staff were around. They were celebrating at the after party, which was where he was supposed to be right now. Today was Harvey's birthday, but of course he wasn't going without grabbing Nia first.
With Danny's life normally a sea of panic and fear, Nia had become a safe harbor. She made him laugh and was always the epicenter of a good party. He trusted her with the most intimate details of his life. A peculiar thing since after Emily, his modus operandi was “never allow a woman to get close.” But he was a fool.
I can't believe she's still on this shit.
Looking at her hunched over the coke, it became clear to him. She was just like everyone else—a loser. A loser who was trying to hitch herself to his wagon. He was a winner though, and losers needed to stop thinking he owed them something.
The one thing Danny couldn't stand was being made to look like a fool. For some reason he couldn't quite explain, Nia had gotten a free pass. But now the party was over, and he wasn't about to suffer from this mistake one moment longer.
If he hadn't been angry, he would've burst out laughing. It was ironic. He'd just told Harvey and two million viewers he'd been sober for twelve months, because of the love and support of his family, friends, and most of all, his girlfriend. But only three feet away, his “support system” was tooting a gram of coke. Involuntarily, a muscle in his forehead began to twitch. He felt worn out and overwrought. This was bullshit.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Danny kept his voice low, fighting every burning impulse to scream at her.
The walls were paper thin, and the last thing he needed was for someone to overhear them and send his story to the tabloids. He could see the headlines now. “Danny Roland's supplier is his girlfriend, Nia Waters.” A black and white picture of the door to their dressing room would be on the front cover. An anonymous source was backstage at Harvey's! when she heard Danny arguing over cocaine.
He had too many wins under his belt to let a scandal drag him down. Fans and magazines were cheering for him; he didn't want the slightest incident to turn those cheers into jeers. When audiences rooted against him, job offers dried up. People stopped writing movies with him in mind.
He stepped into the room and shut the door. He looked into her eyes and her smile quickly faded and her brow creased. This was no time for laughing. The look he gave her was enough to sober her for the moment.
“Get up,” he said to Nia.
Grabbing the mirror off the coffee table, he entered the bathroom in two long strides.
“What are you doing?” She trailed close behind him, bumping into his back when he halted. The anger in her voice was crescendoing.
She reached for the glass, her nails raking across his hand, but he tipped the contents into the toilet.
He was throwing a grand down the sewer, but her heart didn't matter to him anymore. Danny flushed the toilet and turned around, only an inch from her face. She slapped him.
The sting of her assault freed any guilt he might have had. “What the fuck do you think I'm doing? I'm the poster boy for a drug‐free America. I can't get caught doing drugs, not when I'm telling people I'm in recovery. You've used up your last Hail Mary, Nia. You need to leave.” He grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her out of the bathroom. Taking her purse, he slammed it into her chest.
Her eyes flitted over him and her lips gave a hesitant smile. It was his cue to forgive her, but it was too late. He kept his face blank and turned his back to her. Goodbye Nia.
“What are you saying?” Nia said. Tears began to line the rim of her eyes.
“It's over, get out,” Danny said.
“No.” She walked over to Danny and tried to put her arms around him, but he shoved her away.
She stumbled, but regained her balance. He was pissed; and had made it clear there was no reasoning with him at this point. Nia ran from the dressing room with tears flowing down her face. But underneath the soul crushing pain, anger began to fester.
He'd thrown her out like a bad one‐night stand. She'd been bored and lonely in the dressing room, and whipped out the bag to have a little fun. He didn't need to get bent out of shape over it. It was only a gram of coke. Hardly enough to call it abuse.
Just because he laid off the stuff, didn't mean she couldn't have any. What was she supposed to do, with all that time in the dressing room anyway? She'd watched enough of his interviews this month. Each one melded together in her mind, as the same boring interview. It was ridiculous how high strung Danny got sometimes. Normally she laughed when he got mad. He had always reminded her of a chicken, bawking away.
The thought of him melted her heart. How could he end it like this?! She'd been there for him through thick and thin. It had gotten hot and heavy in the four months they'd been together. She gave him her heart, not to mention, put up with crazy fans. Paparazzi dumpster dived through her garbage and interviewed her family and friends. She'd been publicly humiliated for millions to read about. For what though? So he could kick her out?
She kept her head down as she walked past people in the hallway. She couldn't stand to speak to anyone at the moment. If people saw her face, they would want to know what was wrong. She couldn't bear to tell anyone Danny had just dumped her. These people would probably care more about me than Danny does right now.
How could she screw this up? Nia angrily backhanded a wall, then winced from the pain. Sighing, she cradled her right hand as she shuffled to the underground exit. He's not perfect. Nia slammed the exit door leading to the garage. She'd given him her best and he was going to miss having someone love him the way she did.
Finding her resolve, she whipped out her compact mirror and fixed her makeup. Standing straight and proud, Nia hailed a taxi. Danny hadn't seen the last of her; she was going to make sure of it.