Marnie Ducello leaned against the back door of the police car. She'd started to wake as the officer laid her on the back seat, but it took her a minute before she got her bearings. The probes had gripped her stomach, stripping her muscles of all voluntary movement. She tried to ignore the needle-like sensations that traveled up her legs as the feeling returned. She gulped a gust of fresh air from the partially open window as she attempted to settle her queasy stomach.
At least she wouldn't have to deal with the landlord's nasty attitude tonight. A clean cot and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich were more inviting than her empty studio.
“Roy, you've got to think about your future.” The warm voice sounded like the older officer, who'd gently placed her into the police car. He was a good man. She was used to officers making sure she slammed her head against the roof of the car on her way in, then snickering about it afterward.
“I ain't worried,” Roy's sullen voice answered.
“You'll be suspended without pay.”
Roy sighed. “Well, what do you suggest?”
“Ma'am?” Marnie looked up. A pair of soft‐brown eyes in the rearview mirror stared back at her. “Is there somewhere we can drop you off?”
A very nice officer. Unlike that stranger. Marnie suspected he'd had it in for her for some reason. He was too pretty with his warm olive skin, clean‐shaven face and strong Roman nose. She shivered, remembering how his firm hands had pulled her up. Strong and incredibly comfortable, as if she could live in them. But he was short, probably only half a head taller than her. That probably stuck in his craw. She twisted around in the backseat. Focus. It's not like she was ever going to run into him again, so there was no use in spending time trying to figure out why he'd gotten her arrested.
“Ma'am?” The voice of the kind officer brought her back to the present. “Do you understand what I'm saying? We're not going to take you to the station. Where would you like me to drop you off?”
She gave him the address to her support group. A part of her didn't want to go. Sybil's large amber eyes haunted Marnie. So much so, she hadn't eaten her toast that morning.
The police cruiser pulled up in front of a two‐story concrete building. The brown‐eyed officer opened her door, and helped her out of the backseat. She mentally rolled her eyes at his stern warning to stay out of trouble.
Marnie ran a hand across her bleary eyes, trying to erase the events of last night. Pushing open the door to the community center, she walked over to room 18B. It was the only door that wasn't peppered with a rainbow of construction paper. It was ironic that the meeting was anonymous since the traffic of people coming in and out screamed this was where all the drug addicts hung out. But Marnie had other issues to worry about today, besides her identity being violated.
Perhaps after the meeting, Sybil would give her a chance to explain. Marnie had never guessed the spicy Latina was gay. Her innocent kiss on Sybil's cheek last night had led to a furious tongue probe that had rocked Marnie to her core. She had to let Sybil know she hadn't pushed her away in disgust, but in shock. Would it matter though? Marnie was positive she wasn't gay. If she didn't speak to Sybil, she'd lose her sponsor, and that just couldn't happen.
Sybil was her lifeline.
Marnie scanned the room looking for Sybil. Seeing she had arrived first, Marnie selected a seat in the circle and waited for the meeting to begin. Sybil would be proud of her today. A small smile crept to her face. Despite the butterflies, she was going to try sharing again.
She placed her coin purse on the seat next to her and kept an eye on the door. It wasn't long before regulars, and a few shy newcomers, filed in and claimed seats in the circle.
Marnie stood, joining everyone for the Serenity Prayer. When it was over, she scanned the room again before sitting. She nodded to a few regulars, but there was still no sign of Sybil.
She was relieved Rory Hunter was running the group today. Despite her being five feet and two inches, Marnie had come to recognize her as a strong woman. Rory had been sober for thirty‐five years, but was quick to remind everyone she might make the mistake of taking a drink tomorrow. Stern, but with a loving hand, Rory was born to be the mother of this group.
“Does anyone have a thirty‐day anniversary?” the group leader asked.
Marnie and two others, a man and a woman, raised their hands. Rory gave the floor to the other woman. Marnie only caught snippets of her confession though—she was too busy watching the door, hoping the next person to enter would be her sponsor.
“Marnie.” A voice broke her concentration.
She reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the door. Rory and the rest of the group waited for her to begin. “Do you want to share anything about your recovery today?” Rory prompted.
Marnie swallowed the huge lump in her throat and released an inward sigh. She wanted Sybil to hear this. Where was she?
“I've been sober for thirty‐one days.” She wrung her hands as she continued. “The time I've had to think has made me realize it's time for a career change ‘cause I can't do this stuff sober.”
“I'll say.” A black-haired woman sniggered.
Rory shushed her. Marnie took a deep breath, but when she opened her mouth, the words were lodged in her throat. She turned to Rory but had to wait a minute, because Rory was engrossed in putting her honey blonde tresses in a ponytail. When Rory raised her head, she smiled at Marnie and encouraged her to continue.
Marnie lowered her eyes. “This has been a real eye‐opener on many levels,” she said to the floor. That was it. She wished she could take those words back. These people didn't deserve to witness this confession, not if they were going to laugh at her while she bared her soul. There was so much more she wanted to say, but the words drifted from her mind like feathers in the wind. Rory smiled at her before turning her attention to the man who had raised his hand.
As the meeting ended, Marnie's stomach began to growl. Although she never liked staying after meetings, perhaps today she'd take advantage of the spread of stale doughnuts, cookies, and coffee Rory had set up at the back of the room. She joined the small buffet line and grabbed a paper plate.
“Now, girls, you can't be in this group if you're going to be challenging someone's sobriety,” Rory said behind her.
“Who me?” another voice said. “I can't help that I have a natural ability to call bullshit. Honestly, if you asked me, anyone who comes up in here faking day after day, is threatening my sobriety.”
Turning slightly, Marnie caught a glimpse of the speaker. Huddled together, sat the black‐haired woman who had laughed at her earlier, Rory, and another strawberry‐blonde girl.
“What are you talking about?” Rory said.
“That ho ain't quitting her day job.”
“More like her night job,” the strawberry‐blonde quipped. The women talking to Rory exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
“Of course we all know she's going to relapse, but you still can't call her out like that,” Rory said, lowering her voice.
The black‐haired girl gasped. “I can't believe you agree.”
Rory twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I'm rooting for all of you to stay clear, but I have a sixth sense about these things. There are some people who you do your best to help, but no matter what, they're incapable of staying clean.”
Marnie's face boiled. She had half a mind to throw the steaming pot of coffee on all of them. How dare they talk about her like she wasn't there? With only two feet separating them, she knew those bitches could see her. She set her plate of cookies on the buffet table and marched toward the exit.
“Marnie!” She ignored the voice and proceeded to the door. A hand on her shoulder made her whirl around.
“What?”
Rory's lips pulled into a tight smile. “I'm glad you stuck around. I want to speak to you about Sybil.”
Marnie followed Rory back into the circle where they pulled two chairs off to the side, away from the few members who were still eating.
“I think,” Rory said, covering Marnie's hand with one of her own, “she's walking the streets again. She didn't come home last night.”
Sybil and Rory were roommates as well as group leaders. If Sybil had relapsed, Rory would know. Marnie's heart leaped into her throat. Sybil was the last person she'd expected to relapse.
Before Sybil, Marnie's life had revolved around searching for men and securing her next hit. She had allowed Benny to talk her into moving to New York City. The hustle and bustle of the city had made her want to turn around and run back to New Jersey, but then she'd met Sybil, and everything changed.
Sybil had walked up to her while Marnie was looking for a customer who would help her fill Benny's seven‐hundred‐dollar‐a‐night quota. She'd handed Marnie a flyer about Habit Relief, and talked up such a storm Marnie had allowed Sybil to take her to a meeting that night.
Habit Relief taught her all about drug abuse. She'd learned she was an addict because it was not normal to cook up a half a gram of smack in order to function during the day. It also wasn't normal to take coke so she wouldn't get the shakes or hurt when heroin wasn't available.
Once Bennie found out about Sybil, he took Marnie off the streets, citing the dangerous underbelly of the city as the reason why he wanted her to start working from her apartment. But a seed had been planted and a friendship bloomed between them. Sybil had been courageous in defying Benny, and encouraged Marnie to go the meetings in secret.
“I'm sorry,” Rory said. “I know she's your sponsor, but we'll pair you up with someone else.”
Marnie snatched her hand away. “What for? You've already predicted I'm not going to stay sober.”