Bridgetown: A Harm Reduction Novel by Jordan P. Barnes

Author:Jordan P. Barnes [Barnes, Jordan P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734716672
Publisher: Island Time Press, LLC
Published: 2022-03-06T00:00:00+00:00

fourteen

the breakdown

“You can leave your shoes on,” Harley said as she leaned Ethan’s bike against the wall and closed her apartment door. “Do either of you want something to drink?”

“I’m good,” Gully said while heading for the couch. “I’m not gonna lie, Harley. Your spot is a bit smaller than what I imagined.”

“Is it?” Harley snapped the deadbolt and turned around. “I’ve always felt like it’s perfect for my needs, especially since I rarely host.”

“So I haven’t been missing out on any parties?”

Harley smiled. “Not that I know of. I like to be accessible at work but prefer to keep my private life private. I need time to unwind.”

“It must be nice.”

“What’s that?”

“Being able to unwind. I can’t get a good night’s sleep without someone rolling up on me and begging for a handout.” Gully tossed her backpack on the coffee table and used the back of her hand to brush off the couch cushion. “I promise to respect your privacy and never stop by unannounced.”

Asher opened a small door next to Harley’s bedroom and poked his head inside. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

Harley’s eyes went straight to his pockets. “Not at all, but please leave your dope kit out here with us. This is my home, and I don’t want you getting loaded here.”

He pulled the door shut. “In that case, I think I can hold it.”

“I appreciate that,” Harley said, heading into the kitchen.

Asher worked his way around the room and ran a finger over a rippled patch of wallpaper before straightening a photo of a young Harley hugging an older boy. Moving on, he circled the coffee table and plopped down next to Gully with so much force that she toppled into him. She jabbed her elbow into his ribs and as he sat upright, he noticed a stack of books beneath the coffee table. Sitting on top was a ragged copy of Papillon by Henri Charrière. “This looks interesting,” he said, holding it up. “Any chance I can borrow it?”

Harley reached out and removed the autobiographical novel from his hands. “Normally I’d say yes, but not this one.” She stared at her brother’s favorite book before placing it back on the stack. “I’m sure Powell’s or the library has a copy, or you’re welcome to any other book if you want.”

“Hmm. What about this one?” He held up a memoir with dog-eared pages. The cover was bold and striking, depicting the shell of a man running for the hills.

“That one’s not too shabby if you don’t mind reading about recovery.”

“Hey Ash. I got an idea. How about you quit fuckin’ around and make yourself useful,” Gully said. She leaned forward, unzipped her backpack and set her scale and knife on the coffee table. She removed a plastic shopping bag from the small zippered pocket and pinched a portion between her fingers. Next, she cut out a small circle—about two inches wide—and repeated the process, stockpiling the circles of plastic like a stack of pancakes.

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