Nocturnes by Kendall Grey

Author:Kendall Grey [Grey, Kendall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: tattoos, contemporary, alcoholism, erotic romance, guitars, erotica, hardcore, rock stars, strippers
Publisher: Howling Mad Press LLC
Published: 2013-11-30T00:00:00+00:00

Side A: “Ballroom Blitz”

Around 4 a.m., I wake up shaking and covered in a sheen of sweat. Eve’s nestled beside me, her breaths long and even. I don’t want to leave her after all we’ve been through tonight, but if I don’t get some alcohol in my system, my heart’s gonna burst from my chest, Aliens style.

I slide my arm out and kiss her neck. Her eyes flutter open.

“I gotta piss,” I lie. She nods, tucks a fist under her chin, and rolls over.

As I crawl out of bed, I stare at the line of her partially exposed spine, her mane fanned over the pillow, her flawless skin. God, I need this woman.

But I need booze more.

Picking through my jeans for my wallet, I swallow hard. I promised her another $500 to be herself with me. She held up her end of the bargain, and now I have to do the same. I lay the money on her dresser, grab the rest of my clothes, and tiptoe out of the bedroom.

After getting dressed, I pause on my way out to pick up the picture of Eve and her parents by the door. She was as pretty as a kid as she is now but happier in her youth. I turn the frame over. The clear backing reveals an inscription: “2002 RIP Mamochka & Papochka.” I wonder how she lost them. Ah, fuck. It’s none of my business.

I set the image back in its place and face the bedroom. Guess this is goodbye. Eve has my number if she wants to call, but I’m not going to pursue her further. She made it clear this was a one-time deal.

Still…my chest aches at the thought of never seeing her again.

Fuck it.

I sneak out and lock the door behind me. It’s probably a couple of miles back to the Quarter. As shaky as I am, I’m not sure I can hoof it, but I start walking anyway. Maybe the fresh air will help clear my head.

A quick consultation with the map feature on my phone tells me there’s a package store on the way home. Unsteady on my feet, I walk through the dark, mostly deserted streets of New Orleans until I land on the liquor store’s stoop. I stare up at the buzzing neon sign.

Another chill passes over my clammy skin. This is my crossroads. My chance to break free. If I turn away and keep walking, it’ll be the first step on a long and difficult path, but the pot of gold at the end of that monochromatic rainbow is the promise of colorful sobriety. Freedom from alcohol’s clutches. The end to reliance on shit that makes me sin.

All this drinking has fucked me up. I know it has.

I glance down at my trembling hands, my jittery legs. Without booze, I’m useless. A total wreck. I can’t function. It’s only been a few hours since my last shot, and already I’m jonesing like my life depends on the next one.

It does. You’re an addict.

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