Danny's cellphone danced across his nightstand. A sliver of blue fluorescent light illuminated the pitch black room. He picked it up and focused blurry eyes on the screen, but since the number wasn't familiar, he set it back on the nightstand, rolled over and closed his eyes.
It could've been that girl, said a voice in the back of his mind. “At three in the morning?” Danny said. Especially at three in the morning, his conscience replied.
Marnie's stare had been enough to convince Danny his sales pitch hadn't worked. He didn't care though. It was her loss if she wanted to kick a gift horse in the nuts. He wasn't interested in spending hours trying to talk her into staying sober. People who stopped acting like addicts were the ones who wanted to. He'd gone home with a clear conscience. If Marnie wanted to stay high, then there was nothing Danny could do or say that was going to change her mindset. But if she's calling now…
With a groan Danny rolled over and called the number back.
“Hello?” a tearful voice answered.
“Marnie?” he said.
“Is this Danny?” Marnie said.
“Yeah.”
“I finally found the guy's number, but oh God, I don't want to call this guy,” she said.
“I'll be there in twenty,” Danny said.
He hung up the phone then rolled out of bed. A renewed source of energy coursed through his veins. He could help this girl, and then his sister would know he wasn't simply talking, he was living a sober lifestyle.
He admired the willpower it took to call him instead of her dealer. Since he was going to be a sponsor, Danny was glad he'd picked someone who had a fighting chance. It meant her odds of sobering up and leading a drug‐free life was more possible than he had originally believed.
He threw on a black hoodie and a pair of jeans, then grabbed some sweats and loaded them in a duffel bag. Mickey met him at the door, but he quickly got lost in the treats Danny threw him to whine about not going with his owner. Danny stepped out into the foggy New York morning. Since it was so early even the sun hadn't risen, there was no way he was going to risk being spotted in his own car. Whipping out Kevon's car keys, he clicked the remote to unlock the car. He hopped into the Lexus SUV and pulled out of the private parking lot.
The only people cruising the street at this hour were junkies, dealers, and truckers. If TMZ or any other tabloid press spotted him, they were sure to think he'd lost his fight and was using. They'd gotten to him before, but he was alert this time and didn't plan on ever letting the press make a fool of him again.
Marnie sat on the floor with her dealer's phone number in her hand. In the twelfth hour of jonesing, she'd realized it was time to take a leap of faith. She hoped against all hope Danny's offer was real. It was something everyone at her recovery meetings talked about. Nothing else was working, and putting her life in someone else's hands was something she did every day. Why not try to put this life in the hands of someone who wants to help me and not use me, for a change?
She didn't know a thing about him. For all she knew, he could be another Boston strangler. She was ready to take the chance. A part of her longed to sit back and shoot heroin and soak up some white powder, but with no money, the things she would have to do to get even the smallest taste overwhelmed the desire to get high.
Then there was that weird feeling of fire that had snaked up her arm when she touched him. It had taken her by surprise, but it wasn't a bad feeling. It was a good one, and she hadn't felt any sort of goodness for a long time. Perhaps it was a sign that things could be okay.
Ten minutes later, she heard a knock on her door. Was it him or was it Benny?
She paced back and forth, before her frenzied energy compelled her to open the door. She paused, admiring how his rumpled look inspired sexiness. She stuck her head out in the hallway looking left then right. Without saying a word, Danny pushed past her into her apartment.
“You did the right thing,” he said, turning around to face her. “First, let's talk. If I'm going to be your sponsor, you've got to abide by all of my ground rules. I'm not playing around. You break one rule, and I'll call the whole thing off. I'm about to go on tour, and I'll have no problem leaving you in whatever city we pass through.”
“Okay.” Her legs knocked together like pinball marbles.
Bells rang in her head screaming ‘scam!' The stress of not getting high was taking a toll on her. She didn't know what to expect from him, but she was trying to keep an open mind. She was doing something she'd never done before. She was walking on optimism. She wasn't all smiles and gooey‐eyed, thinking some tall, dark stranger was going to wave a wand and suddenly all her past mistakes would disappear. No. What she was doing was being open to the possibility her life could change for the better. Plus, the added bonus of no one knowing she was a hooker made it even easier to tell the warning signals to hush.
“How many days have you been clean?” Danny said.
“Thirty‐five.” She looked around the room sheepishly. Thirty-five days she wasn't proud of. It was nothing to hang her hat on. She didn't understand why they gave chips for attending drug recovery meetings. They handed them out like little gold stars each time you came to a meeting. It was like getting a gold star for cleaning your room, only in reverse. The meetings gave away the gold star for not shitting in the room.
Maybe that's why it wasn't for her. She didn't understand them and their philosophies. They were giving chips to people who could easily go out and get high, come back, lie and get another chip. That's why she didn't keep her chips; she always tossed them on the way out the building.
“What do you like to hit?” Danny said.
“Cocaine and heroin.” Her voice was barely above a whisper at this point.
Smoking and shooting were her own private things—she hadn't even told Sybil the extent of her abuse. Telling him meant giving this process a fighting chance.
His lips parted as if he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth. Marnie breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad he wasn't going to press further on the issue.
“I'm sure that's not all you like to do, but it's immaterial at this point,” Danny said. “Rule number one, you have to trust me completely. Rule number two, do everything I say; don't question me. If you follow those two golden rules, we'll have no problems, and you'll stay sober. Any questions?”
“Are you a motivational speaker or something?” She looked at him sideways as she said it.
He was peculiar. She couldn't figure out his angle.
“What?” His eyebrows gathered together to frown at her. “Naw, baby, what I do is much more interesting than some fucking motivational speaker. The first thing I'm going to do is give you a TV,” Danny grinned.
She'd stopped caring about anything in life that didn't relate to keeping her high. Popular culture and news had stopped being of interest to her years ago.
“Now strip,” Danny said. He sat down on the loveseat at the far end of the room and waited for her to comply with his request.
A smile crept to the edges of her lips. This was a welcome relief. She was on equal footing now she knew what she was dealing with. He wasn't doing this without wanting some form of payment. If he could help her stay sober though, maybe it was worth it. She slowly inched her body out of the jeans she wore.
“Your underwear too,” Danny said.
He wanted her to strip everything, but she was going to take her time. The art of seducing a man lay in teasing him. First she took her tank top off, fingers grazing against her jutting ribcage. Then she hooked her thumbs into her underwear and down, passing over the dark burns that marked her legs from when she had passed out with the pipe in her hand. Her track mark‐lined foot kicked the underwear out of her path. The bra came off last. She unhooked the clasp and pulled the bra away, letting him get a good look at her jewels.
Slowly, she walked around the coffee table and pried Danny's legs open with her knee. Sitting on his right thigh, she kissed him gently. The world shifted and euphoria washed over her. Aches and pains became a dull whisper. Danny hesitated, pulling his head back. “Marnie—” She covered his protest with her lips. He placed a hand on her stomach, pushing her away, but she grabbed it, pinning it to the sofa. She didn't feel like dealing with any protest‐foreplay. Finally, he began to surrender his lips, returning her kiss. She slipped her tongue in, and Danny released a moan of pleasure. She slid her left hand down his rock hard chest and unbuckled his belt. When she reached the zipper, Danny firmly grabbed her wrist.
Their eyes locked. She struggled to cobble words together, but the look of lust in his eyes rendered her mute.
“Stop,” he said, panting.
He reached around her and opened the duffle bag he brought with him. He pushed her off his thigh and tossed some clothes of his for her to wear. Her jaw dropped in surprise. She wasn't going to service him.
Through tight lips Danny explained why he'd asked her to strip. He didn't trust her to pack a bag or wear her own clothes. She could hide something and bring it with her on the road.
“Look, we can't do this. If I'm going to be your sponsor, it needs to be platonic. Otherwise it won't work, okay? Until you have a handle on things, you shouldn't be getting involved with anybody,” Danny advised her.
“Okay.”
She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or glad he turned her down. Everybody always wanted something. For him to offer to help her, without asking for anything was just plain strange.
“Say goodbye to this place,” Danny said. “Nothing is coming with you.”
She finished putting on the oversized sweats and began to follow him out the door. Every fiber of her being wanted to protest. There were plenty of things she would've loved to bring with her. Namely stuff her mother had given her. The pictures of her family, the Mardi Gras beads from her trip to New Orleans. She quickly turned around and grabbed the glass bear and two angels off the coffee table and stuffed them in her tote. In two months, everything would be in the trash. Mr. Botwin, her landlord, never wasted any time in getting abandoned apartments re‐rented quickly.
“Let's go,” Danny barked.
Holding back tears, she followed him out of her apartment.