“Shit,” I whisper. It’s the diamond heart necklace I bought Cheryl for Christmas.
“Why?” I ask the apparition. “How did she end up with him?” I search the hollowed eyes of the Grim Reaper. He lifts his cloak, and a black cloud surrounds me, whispering the answer.
“Because your indifference made her vulnerable, leaving her wide open to Graham’s blackmail and fraudulent ways. She fell deeper and deeper into depression, then into his clutches, not realizing until it was too late that his words were lies. That he only wanted her and her business as another trophy on his shelf.”
“She was wearing the necklace I bought her for Christmas.”
“Because she never forgot you.”
“I can’t leave her like this, I have to . . .”
The Grim Reaper shakes his head, gathers his cloak around both of us, and another dismal fog catapults us further into my future.
When the air clears, a vision of myself appears, sitting ata table in the back of an empty, seedy bar. The constant flashing of a red strobe light tightens my gut. The place is slightly familiar, but the air stinks of stale beer, sweat and piss.
“Where are we?” I ask.
The Grim Reaper points to a burnt-out neon sign on the back wall.
Club Wicked.
“No,” I shout. “This can’t be true.”
The Grim Reaper nods, and I’m forced to watch the scene in front of me.
My dead eyes stare at the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels I’m gripping. My clothes are wrinkled and dirty, but I don’t seem to care. I unscrew the cap, slosh the amber liquor into a glass, and down it.
A woman approaches me in a too-small bikini top and a G-string, teetering on five-inch stilettos. She’s stick-thin with huge tits and bleached-out blonde hair, framing a face lined with despair. She joins me at the table, leans in and whispers something in my ear.
I give her a knowing look, reach into my pocket, and pull out a glassine bag filled with fine white powder. I waste no time chopping it up with a razor blade, then hoovering it up two lines at a time.
“What the fuck?” The woman pushes at my shoulder. “Leave some for me.”
She snorts the other two lines, wipes at her nose, then runs her bony hand up my thigh. “Why don’t you and me have a party before this dump opens?”
I stare at her through slitted, bloodshot eyes.
She throws her shoulders back, making her enormoustits sway in the skimpy top. “I’m the best you’re gonna get, baby.”
“Fuck you,” I slur.
“No, baby, fuck you, or did you forget?” She unsteadily waves her hand around the room. “This is all you are now. A fucking bouncer in a beat-to-shit strip club on the ass end of town.”
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, but the Grim Reaper only points to the scene in front of me.
The blonde snuggles closer to me. “Samson got tired of your shit and left you years ago. They found your buddy Jax in a shallow grave out in the desert. Your wife left you for that big-shot promoter, Graham Pierce, and that kid of yours doesn’t even talk to you anymore.”
An ice pick pierces my heart at the mention of Cheryl and Portia.
“This shit-hole is perfect for two losers like you and me, ‘cause ain’t nobody coming in here unless they’re worse off than us.” She throws her head back and cackles at her own joke, then pours herself a shot and downs it. “Gotta get fuckin’ wasted just to work here, but don’t you worry, I’m gonna fuck my brains out in the champagne room later, then give you all your precious money.” She curls her lip. “‘Cause money is all you got left, but that’s all you care about anyway, right?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl.
“Too bad all that money hasn’t been much help. No wife, no kid. Just you in this sad fuckin’ life, wasting it all on blow and booze.”
“Don’t talk about my family.”
“What fuckin’ family?” She cackles again. “I’m all yougot now, so why don’t we do a few more lines, then hit the shitter and get our freak on before the asshole customers start showing up?” She offers up her grotesque tits. “I’ll even let you snort some of the good shit off my tits.”
