The club was pumping the bass on the music as the singer screamed through the speakers. “I'm feeling freaky tonight. Tell all your friends drinks are on me, ‘cause I'm partying like I'm twenty‐one again.” Strobe lights painted the walls in light blues and purple hues. Marnie walked through the crowd of smiling faces to the bartender.
“Give me a Manhattan, Courvoisier on the rocks, and some tequila.”
“You want the tequila straight?” The bartender asked.
“Yeah.”
Marnie made her way back to the table where Danny and Lisa sat. After the photo shoot, Danny had invited Lisa to come to Rickey's, a downtown nightclub in the heart of New York. The five‐thousand square foot warehouse held three separate rooms with deejays to keep the crowd bouncing till three in the morning.
“Thanks,” Danny and Lisa said to Marnie.
“You're off the clock. Go hang out and make some friends.” Danny waved her off.
Marnie's jaw dropped. She hadn't been expecting this. Danny grinned and leaned forward, whispering into her ear.
“You're doing well. All work and no play is just going to ruin all of that. It's time for you to start seeing how fun sober life can be.” He patted her arm.
Marnie took her tequila and made her way back to the bar. The bartender flashed her a smile as she sat down and she returned the gesture with a coy one of her own. She looked around, surveying the room. Women wiggled their booties and couples humped each other, their bodies rhythmically melting into one another as the DJ pumped one song after another. Finally, a song Marnie recognized blasted through the speakers. Marnie bobbed her head as Biggie rapped “Party and Bullshit.”
“You want to go have some fun?” The bartender tapped his nose. “I'm on a break.” A shiver of delight coursed through her veins as his lips lightly brushed her ear.
The nose tap meant drugs. It had been three months since her binge in Florida. The comedown on that episode had been bad. But Danny did say she should have some fun. She gave the bartender her hand and learned his name was Billy.
They left the club and she let him lead her to the corner of the block. A sleek gray Toyota hugged the curb.
Billy opened the back passenger seat and Marnie slid in. He opened the driver side door and reached in to turn the heater on, before joining her in the back. A shiver ran through her body as she adjusted to the temp change.
“You like yayo?” Billy said, referring to coke's street nickname.
“Yeah.” Although she wasn't physically jonesing for a fix, she wasn't going to turn down free coke. Plus with her good behavior, she'd earned this taste.
Billy took a mirror and baggie of coke out of his jacket pocket. He poured two lines on the mirror, and snorted the first line before handing the mirror to Marnie.
She pushed her left nostril in, bent over the mirror and snorted the coke. Marnie leaned back on the seat and slowly breathed through her mouth, willing herself not to sneeze it out. Slowly, the effects coursed through her body. For some reason coke always made her horny. She reached over and positioned herself on top of Billy, giving him a kiss and slipping her tongue inside his mouth. He tasted of bourbon.
“Let's make this a little more interesting,” Billy said against her lips.
He took the baggie out and carefully placed a line of coke on his penis. Marnie laughed then bent down and snorted the coke before licking the residue off his shaft. With her tongue slightly numb, she took his semi‐hard member in her mouth and went to town.
Billy pounded the seats with his hands. She could tell he was thoroughly enjoying how she alternated between a fast, then slow rhythm, quickly bringing him to the brink before slowing down and leaving him on the cliff for a few moments.
Billy came once before his phone buzzed, indicating his break was over. The pair sniffed one more line and then returned to the bar. Billy plied Marnie with drinks for the rest of the evening. His intentions were obvious. Each drink came with a whisper of how he planned to take her back to his place and finish many times over what she had started. Those plans were short‐lived, however, once Marnie bumped into Danny.
“Hey!” Marnie said, singing the song playing in the club at a hundred words per second. She was happy—happier than she had been in three months. She took his hand and spun herself around. For a reason she couldn't quite comprehend, anger reverberated from him.
She let him say goodnight to Lisa, but balked when he tried to drag her out of the club. Despite Marnie's pleas to stay, Danny put her in the black Lexus and peeled out of the curb.
“You know what? You suck,” Marnie giggled. “You tell me one thing and then you do another. You just don't know how to have any fun. If I knew going on tour was going to be as crappy as it was, I never would've agreed to it.” She twisted in her seat to give him the full power of her glare. “Hello? Just so you know, I'm twenty‐five years old, not some middle‐aged grandma you can lock up. I was chillin' in there.”
On the way back to his penthouse, Danny listened intently as Marnie rambled about how much she hated him, hated the tour, and hated the crew.
He marched her into her room and gave her a sleeping pill so she could sleep off the effects of her high. Danny woke her once in the middle of the night to drink water, but for the most part he didn't say a word to her.
What could he say? This was a shock to the gut he hadn't been prepared for. To say he was disappointed would be an understatement. He had thought he was helping, but it looked like he had truly done nothing. He couldn't continue to keep a hawk‐eye on her, so he knew he shouldn't blame himself for taking her to a club. If she wanted to get high she could make that happen anywhere, he reasoned. But he was her sponsor. Perhaps he shouldn't have let her wander the club alone.
It was also her responsibility to come to him when she felt she was going to break her sobriety. She hadn't given him a chance to help her. Danny wrestled with blaming Marnie and then himself for the rest of the night. He barely caught two hours' worth of sleep before waking Marnie up at six in the morning.
“Wake up,” a bloodshot‐eyed Danny barked. “What happened last night?”
Danny's eyelids drooped, but he knew he wouldn't get any more sleep until he got some answers.
Marnie peeked at him with one eye and rolled over, pulling the cover over her head to block out the light. “Either let me sleep or kick me out,” she said over her shoulder.
“You got it.” Danny's blood boiled as he ripped the comforter and sheets off of her body. He grabbed her ankles and dragged her to the elevator.
Danny stopped and propped her up beside the elevator. He glanced down and saw her crying, but was unmoved. Danny's rage and frustration clouded his thoughts. Whatever feelings had been sprouting between them was doused by a wave of disappointment. He was ready for her to leave, no matter what.
“You're a disgrace. You want me to feel sorry for you? I don't. You forget you can't con me. I've been where you are. You think I owe you something? I don't!”
Danny continued to rant for several minutes.
“I have rearranged my whole life to help you, and this attitude is the thanks I get? Well, please leave. You can get on that elevator and walk right out of here.” His face was bright red as he took a breath before continuing.
“Who do you think you are that you don't owe me an explanation for what happened? You think you can treat me like I am some nuisance? Well, fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”
Spittle sprayed her face as he screamed at her.
“Everything alright?” Kevon said, standing in the shadows of the hallway.
“We're fine. Give us a little privacy.” Danny pointed at him.
Kevon held up his hands in mock surrender, retreating without a word.
Danny angrily punched the down arrow on the elevator.
Ding! The doors of the elevator slid open, the happy chime a cruel sound in the tense moment.
“Alright, get out of here.” He pushed her onto the elevator with his foot, leaned in and pressed the lobby button. Head hanging, Marnie said nothing.
Danny stood in front of the elevator with his hands on his hips and watched the elevator doors close. He rubbed his forehead, and started to head into the living room when the chime of the elevator had him rushing back to the foyer.
He found her sitting in the middle of the elevator, crying.
She looked up at him from behind her tears. “I don't have anywhere else to go.”
Danny winced. She hadn't come back to promise she would try. She was only worried about her next meal. If she wasn't committed, then he wouldn't be either. He wasn't going to support her habit.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Give me another chance,” she mumbled. Deep sobs racked her body as she cried.
“No.” Danny reached over and punched the down button on the elevator.
He'd had enough. Marnie couldn't begin to fathom how hard it was for him to even attempt to be her sponsor. At this point, making her leave was about self‐preservation. She was making him out to be a failure—a fact Danny couldn't handle having to consider. Marnie quickly countered by pressing the big red stop button, preventing the elevator from moving.
“Ma'am, are you okay?” a voice asked over the intercom in the elevator.
Marnie ignored the voice and crawled out of the elevator, wrapping her arms around Danny's right leg. He closed his eyes, fighting the overwhelming desire to sweep her into his arms. It would be the ruin of them both if he gave in to her. It was nothing more than simple lust. He could get over it.
“I'm sorry, please forgive me.”
He resisted the urge to pat her head and tell her everything would be okay. Sympathy would kill her. How many times had his family hugged him and given him another chance, which he had abused by using behind their backs? She didn't need him to be nice.
“Do you even want to change your life around?”
Marnie looked into his eyes, but she didn't know how to explain.
“I just,” she started.
“I…” she tried again.
“I wanted to have a good time,” she smiled.
The sincerity in her eyes confirmed her delusion and hurt him in a way he hadn't been prepared for. It had taken him a long time, but he had hardened his heart so no one could ever wound him again. So why was this girl, whom he barely knew, breaking his heart?
“Go have a good time.” He pulled his right leg from her vise-like grip and walked into the living room.
Marnie followed him and sat next to him on the sofa.
“This is the longest I have ever lasted.”
Danny recognized her feeble attempt at an apology. His anger started to subside, and hope returned. “How many times have you tried to get sober?”
“Just this once. A judge sent me to rehab a while back, but I wasn't serious.”
“Well, then you did last a long time,” he said lighting a cigarette.
“I think if I did it in moderation like last night, I'd be okay.” Her eyes shone bright with passion.
“No,” he said crushing the dream. “Why do you want it anyway?”
They had never talked about her motivation, and now seemed as good a time as any. Today, he wasn't going to settle for any of her usual clipped responses, not if she wanted him to give her another chance.
“Because it's fun.” She gave him a wry smile. “I feel alive, I… feel like myself when I get a taste. This whole tour I felt awful. I didn't feel one bit like myself. “
“You're supposed to feel that way. We talked about this, remember?”
“I think this experience has taught me moderation is the key.” She ignored his question.
“You are an addict. There is no moderation. The very meaning of addict is someone who can't stop. If you don't think you have a problem, I can't begin to help you. What's wrong with you as you are? Instead of getting high, you should try and get to know the sober you. You need to like and be in love with what's in here.” He lightly thumped her chest with his fist.
“Substances are only going to drown you out. They're not going to make you better than what you already are.”
Marnie looked away. He saw her begin to erect the all too familiar barb wire fence.
He repeated his question. “What's wrong with who you are?”
The question hung in the air, jabbing her like a knife trying to draw blood. She turned back to him, her violet eyes flashing the warning sign that begged him to retreat. “I like the way I am, high. It's comfortable.”
“I can understand.” He blew smoke out the right side of his lips. “But life is still better. You have to choose life or else you won't be here to have a good time. If you hated being on the tour, why didn't you talk to me?”
“What was I supposed to say? You kept giving me the ‘don't‐waste‐my‐time‐or‐my‐money' attitude.”
Crap. His tough love attitude wasn't supposed to prevent her from talking to him.
“I would've worked something out. All I'm trying to do is show you how you can live sober. You can face obstacles without being high. You've never worked a day in your life and discipline was good for you.”
“Says who? I realize maybe I'd gone overboard, but I don't think I want to stop. There is nothing in life that compares to how drugs make me feel.”
“Why are you doing this then? You called me, remember?”
“I thought maybe I needed to change, but I've realized I like myself just fine.”
“Don't give up, okay? Whatever you do, don't give up just because it's hard.”
He hated the desperation his voice betrayed, but whether they continued to work together or not, he didn't want to watch her succumb again.
“Why did you stop?”
Danny had been dreading this moment. Until now he had kept Marnie at arm's length, but if he truly wanted to help her, he would have to tell her about his own path with drug abuse. He couldn't trust her with Emily's story, she wouldn't understand. No one would. But Beth's incident was also a good reason.
“You like coke?”
Marnie remained quiet, waiting for him to answer his rhetorical question. Who didn't like coke?
“Well, I love coke.”
Danny recounted the night Beth almost died.
“Beth came into the house and he tried to rape her. She was so upset and hurt.” She didn't talk to me for days after that,” Danny said putting out the cigarette butt.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I was a wreck afterwards. I don't know what I would've done if he had gone all the way, or if that bus had killed her.”
He glanced at Marnie to gauge her reaction. He felt relieved to be greeted by a blank stare. If she was judging him, he couldn't tell.
“I felt horrible, I felt lower than low. I barely remember how I even got to that point.”
He shook his head, trying to clear the memory—or was it the shame he still felt?—from his mind. He focused back on Marnie.
“I went home, got rid of everything. Even my secret stash.”
Marnie continued to stare blankly at him, and this gave him the courage he needed to finish telling her about the mess Robert had been helping him to keep quiet.
“I spent a year in rehab, but that didn't really do shit for me. You know what did it for me? Me. I made the change. And you can too.”
“Why does everyone always assume people who do drugs are trying to run away from their past? I do drugs because I like them, not because I have a problem.”
“Then why,” he banged his hand on the coffee table making the ashtray jump, “try?”
“For a second there it got out of hand.”
“That dump you were living in, that's where you wanted to be? Fucking strangers for money or drugs is your ideal career choice? I am so sorry I took you away from that. Just to be clear, you liked ho‐ing for drugs?”
She quivered under his piercing glare, and turned away from him. Danny guided her chin back to his face.
“Repeat after me, I like fucking for drugs.”
She tried to turn her face away in disgust, but his hand gripped her chin, her head was his prisoner.
She looked into his eyes, her mouth opened, but no sound escaped.
“You're better than that. I know about cravings. It's easier to give in and to forgive it. Addiction is a very forgiving disease, because it's in your head.” He tapped her temple for emphasis. “Listen to me, you will die. You will die,” he whispered.
Tears streamed down her face. The fragility of death was his way in. She didn't want to die. He took advantage of the opening in her armor, reminding her of the words she'd spoken during her call for help.
Her mind drifted back to the night when she'd called him. She had wanted to change. But after four months on the tour, she wasn't sure what she wanted the change for. She didn't like the person she was, but was being high better? She hated the things she had to do to keep the high going. Coke and heroine were high maintenance friends that made her pay in pain and tears. But being sober wasn't all that great either.
“Where am I going?”
“If you're trying to plan your life five years from now, give up. All you can do is plan today. Whatever happens tomorrow doesn't matter. You do the best you can today.”
“That's the philosophy that worked for you when you first started, but now you have it all planned out, right?”
She looked into his eyes, hoping he could give her something to hang on to. His response saddened her.
“No. I wish I could give you a better answer, but I don't have it all planned out. I just try to be the best I can today. Things like being happy, and having a good time, have different definitions for me than they used to. Before you start trying to have a good time or figure out where you're going, first find out who you are. If you don't like yourself, that's the starting point, not the end point.”
“Well, now what?” Marnie said glumly.