SUSAN
Sitting behind her massive desk dressed in an Anne Klein A-line dress that hugged every curve on her shapely 150-pound figure, Susan wondered, What am I doing and why am I doing this to myself? She knew she needed to stop, but it was taking over, controlling her. She couldn’t get through the day without at least one hit, and that one hit would turn into two, three and four. She knew cocaine was not only illegal, but her habit was affecting her decisions at work and in her personal life. She just couldn’t get enough of it. It made her feel powerful, in control, like she could conquer the world.
Balling and unballing her hands as she paced the floor, Susan tried to convince herself that she was better than this. I’m not an addict. I’m a skilled attorney who works hard to win cases. I pay my bills on time, I’m fairly attractive, wear designer clothes, and drive a white-on-white Mercedes SL 500. I’m not an addict. The self-talk wasn’t working. She found herself walking toward the door and checking to see that it was locked.
This is it, she told herself while heading back toward her desk. After this week, I’m giving it up. But she had told herself this same thing numerous times before. It didn’t matter how many times she said it. She still craved the power of the first hit.
She walked over to her desk and glanced at her “To Do,” “To File,” and “Almost Done” piles. Susan reached underneath the desk and pulled out a secret drawer. She reached inside, hands shaking, for the mirror she kept in there with lines of cocaine. It was only a little after nine and she was itching for a hit. She had stayed up all night working on a case and was operating on three hours of sleep. You wouldn’t be able to tell it from looking at her. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and not a hair was out of place. Her natural-looking makeup was applied to create the illusion of perfect skin, catlike eyes and soft lips. Too bad it was all an illusion.
She took a straw out of her purse as she thought about when this mess all started. It was in high school at the senior prom. Everyone was partying. Her cousin, Duvall, a known drug dealer, decided to throw an after prom party. He had the cash, the drugs and the know-how. Only a few were chosen to attend and she, being family and all, was on the top of the list.
Susan didn’t know what she was getting into. Well, maybe she did know, but she wanted to be part of the crowd, at least once. People considered her different in high school. She was always looking out for the underdog, the new kid or the one the other students rejected. Not one to be played with, people stayed away from her. She had a reputation as someone who would fight anyone, boy or girl, and win.
Her willingness to fight had to do with her upbringing. She grew up on the bad side of town, around the corner from the Ave., where the gangs, drugs and fights occurred on a daily basis. She had to watch her back on the regular. Jealousy ran rampant in her part of town. Although mocha complected at a time when light skin was in, she was shapely, and this got her a lot of unwanted attention.
She could still remember the year that she started developing. It was over summer vacation. She was going to the eighth grade. When school resumed, a group of boys, led by JB Jones, decided to harass her on a daily basis. It was getting to be irritating and uncomfortable. All week they were following her around, teasing her and pinching her on the ass. Susan made up her mind that on Friday she would get them, one way or the other. Finally the day came and the school bell rang. Now was her chance. She stood by the locker of the ringleader.
“Move,” JB barked.
“Move me.” Susan stood her ground. She was going to fight him to the end, and not fairly either. She had a pocketknife in her pocket.
Not knowing this, he pushed her out of the way. After catching her balance, Susan caught him off guard and started hitting and kicking him. He tried throwing a few punches, but her arms and legs were flying. By now, students had surrounded them. Everything happened so quickly. How or when she cut him, she couldn’t recall. The only thing she knew was that someone was pulling her off him, and from a distance she heard, “He’s bleeding, he’s bleeding.” One of the nerds she protected whispered in her ear. “Give me the knife so I can get rid of it.”
She passed it to him and he walked off.
By the time the principal arrived, the crowd had disbursed. She was questioned about the knife wound and denied having a weapon. None of the other students turned her in. They believed JB had gotten what he deserved. As a result, they were both suspended.
No one really messed with Susan after that. Most kids stayed away from her for fear that she would go off on them. Everyone except Brandon Lewis. He was impressed and curious about this fine girl with the nerve to go up against one of the school bullies.
During their senior year, he gathered the courage, waited three weeks, sat at her lunch table, made small conversation and invited her to the prom. Surprised, she told him yes. At the prom, Susan let her guard down a little and had a good time, until he made it clear he thought they were going to have sex. Brandon started feeling on her in an aggressive manner. When she told him to stop, he kept on, telling her, “This is what all the kids do after the prom.”
“Boy, I will break every bone in your hands if you don’t take them off me.”
From her tone, he knew she wasn’t playing. He put her out the car at a place called The Point and told her to walk her ass home.
Susan didn’t care, as long as she was safe. Home wasn’t where she was going. She went to the party Duvall was giving.
When she arrived, everyone appeared to be having a good time. The music was blasting, people were dancing, cigarettes and weed were being passed around. She looked around the room and spotted her cousin with his hussy of the week. He glanced up and called her over.
“What’s up cuz? Where’s your date?” He looked over her shoulder.
“I sent his ass home. He thought he was going to get some pussy tonight, but I told him it wasn’t happening here.”
Duvall laughed. “Still saving it for the one, huh?”
“Why not?” Susan got defensive.
Duvall threw his hands up. “I ain’t mad at ya. Hell, I’m proud of you, the way these girls are giving it up now.”
Susan gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You would know.”
After surveying the room and speaking to a few people, she decided to sit and observe the madness.
“Uh, uh, uh.” Her cousin’s partner Timothy sat down next to her. “Don’t you look fine tonight.”
Susan ignored him.
“So, you’re going to ignore a brother? You need to loosen up. Why be so uptight?”
“I am not uptight,” Susan protested.
“Yes, you are. Brothers be wanting to press up, but they’re afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Shall I break it down for you? Um, let me see . . . that evil look you always have, your attitude, and don’t think I ain’t hear about you stabbing that boy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“You want to know why I’m the way I am?” She turned to face him.
“Why?”
“Because of users like you and my cousin over there.” She nodded her head in Duvall’s direction. “Look at him. He has a different girl every week.”
Timothy glanced over at Duvall. He had to hand it to him. He did have a way with the ladies. The honeys were always hanging around him, doing anything he asked, and he did mean anything.
“Wish it was you, don’t you?” Susan teased.
“Nah, I’m right where I want to be, sitting next to the finest honey in the room.”
“Yeah, right. Tell me another one.”
Suddenly, Timothy got real serious. “You think I’m playing, don’t you? Girl, I’ve been checking you out since you were fifteen, but your cousin wasn’t trying to hear it.”
Susan laughed. “What? Are you scared of him?”
“Scared? Nah, that’s my boy. I respect him. He calls you his little prize—always bragging about you, about how you’re all smart, still a virgin and about to go to college to be a lawyer and all.”
“Get out. He told you all that?” She was embarrassed and pleased.
“I even had to get permission to come over here.”
They both looked across the room. Duvall was looking their way. He held a drink in his hand, which he raised in their direction.
“What did he say?”
Mimicking Duvall, Timothy said, “What you asking me to talk to her for? She’s eighteen now. She has a mind of her own.”
“Yeah, I guess he figures there’s only so much trouble I can get into now, since I’ll be leaving soon for college.”
“You’re getting old, girl. You’re getting old.”
“Well, hell, you must be an old man. You’re what, five years older than me?”
Laughing, Timothy pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and unfolded it. Inside there was white powder. Susan wasn’t dumb. She knew cocaine when she saw it.
She also knew she should get up and leave him alone, but she was enjoying his company.
“I’ll be back,” Timothy announced.
“Where you going?” she wanted to know.
“To the bathroom.”
“Why?” She waved her hand around the room. “Everybody else is doing it in the open. How do you know I don’t want to try it?”
Timothy started folding the bill. “So your cousin can kill both of us?”
“I’m eighteen, remember?”
“I don’t know.” Everything in him was telling him no. He put the bill in his pocket.
“If I don’t try it with you, I’ll try it with someone else.” Susan placed her hand on her hip to let him know she was serious.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As a heart attack.”
Timothy looked to see if Duvall was still watching them.
Knowing what he was doing, Susan stood up and told him, “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my car.”
He followed her to the car. After making themselves comfortable, he pulled the bill out along with a straw and made some lines on the dashboard. “I don’t know why I’m showing you this.” He placed the straw on the first line and snorted it up his nose then passed the bill to her.
She copied what he’d done and immediately started rubbing her nose. “Oh my God,” she said, putting her hand up to her chest.
“Are you okay?”
“That shit burns and my heart is racing.”
“That’ll happen the first time. Just relax.”
They sat in the car for over an hour, getting high and getting acquainted. It was the beginning of their friendship/relationship.
Now here she sat, over ten years later, still doing her thing. She had quit a number of times only to resume the habit. Only a few people knew about this extracurricular activity, but they were professionals as well, and stood to lose just as much as she did.
She looked at her watch and took one more hit. She replaced her stash in its secret hiding place, grabbed some tissue and wiped her nose. She them pulled some files from her “To Do” pile and pressed the intercom button, telling Jewell, “Please let everyone know I’m ready to meet.”