Witch Water

At last, she looked right at him. Pink patches splotched her face; tears ran down her cheeks. It didn’t even sound like her when she said, “I’m a drug addict, Stew. I’m a coke-head—a junkie.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

Another cynical laugh. “Yeah, the Girl Next Door turned middle aged. The Happy Innkeeper. Always a smile! Then—bang! The truth.”

“How long?”

“This time? I don’t know. Six, eight months.”

“So you had a problem in the past,” he interpreted, “got clean, but now you’ve relapsed?”

“Yeah.” She seemed crumpled where she sat now. “Remember when I told you I lived in Nashua for a year?”

“Right, after college.”

She nodded, turning the key over in her fingers. “Well, I guess it’s a universal story. Young, idealistic, adventurous. First time away from home. I met a guy there, fell in love, but then found out that the only thing he really loved was coke. He sold the stuff, too, was a pretty big dealer. He didn’t sell half ounces to college kids, he sold quarter keys to regional bagman. Next thing I know, I’m so hooked, I’m selling it for him.” She faltered as if steeling herself, then looked right at Fanshawe. “And that’s not all I sold for the guy.”

Fanshawe gulped.

“You’re still here?” she asked, acid in her tone.

“What’s it look like?” Grimacing, he picked up the bag of cocaine, knelt, and—

Abbie jumped up. “Don’t you dare!”

“Try stopping me,” he suggested, and emptied the bag into a drain on the floor.

She stood there, slumping. “You son of a bitch. Do you have any idea how much that cost?”

“Yeah, your soul.”

“It’s almost impossible to get around here!”

“Good. I just did you a favor so you can thank me.”

“How about this? Instead of thank you, fuck you.”

Fanshawe chuckled. How did I get myself into THIS? He scuffed his shoe over the drain. “Please don’t cuss, Abbie. It doesn’t work for you. And anyway, I’ve seen men who are analytical geniuses turn into useless waste products because of cocaine. Captains of industry, economic gurus, people who could create fifty thousand new jobs just with one deal, but now? They’re all either dead or useless. I’ll be damned if I’m going to watch that happen to you.”

She kept glaring at the drain.

“I’ll cut my stay short,” he said, “then take you to New York and put you in a rehab, a good one.”

“Oh really?” Her tone seemed to dare him.

“Yeah.”

She sat back down, looking completely defeated. “Fuck. I can’t believe this happened. Couldn’t you at least have fucking knocked?”

“I’m serious about the cussing. It makes you sound trashy.”

Her chuckle bubbled like hot pitch. “You don’t know trashy. You’d be sick to your stomach to know some of the things I did in Nashua.”

“Probably. So don’t talk about it.”

She stood up again, with a sudden expression that was confused and sluttish at the same time. “So you’re gonna put me in a rehab, huh, Stew?”

“Yeah. You sound like you don’t believe it.”

“Why should I? It sounds no different from all the other bullshit men have been telling me my whole life. I’m not naive anymore—I know what this is all about.”

“What do you mean?”

She walked right up to him. “It’s the oldest trick in the book that every stupid woman falls for every time. Oh, yeah. The knight in shining armor, makes the girl think he really cares about her, tells her all the things he’s gonna do for her, how he’s gonna rescue her. And what does she do? She believes it, because she’s made so many mistakes and been fucked over so many times, she’s got nothing else to believe.”

“It’s not bullshit,” he said.

She crossed her arms, talking to him with absolute virulence. “Gimme a break! I’ve seen this so many times, if I don’t know by now I might as we’ll jump off a fucking bridge. In the end the girl finds out it was a crock of shit and all the guy really wanted was a fuckin’ piece of ass. Well, I’ve fucked guys for bullshit before, so I guess I might as well fuck you—”

crack!

Fanshawe slapped her hard across the face.

Abbie flinched backward, a hand to her cheek. She shuddered, half-stooped. “You prick! You asshole! I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Neither can I.” Fanshawe was aghast. He was about to apologize but realized the lameness of that. He wasn’t sorry. “I really do care about you.”

She remained stooped over, rubbing her face. She growled, “I don’t believe that!”

“That’s fine. You will eventually.” This was his mind’s first time-out from this calamity. “Like I said, I’ll cut my stay short. I’ve got a few things to do first, just give me a day or two. Then I’ll take you to New York, put you in a rehab, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Take what from there?”

Fanshawe stalled. It was a good question. “I’m not really sure, but I’m sure of this. You’re not doing drugs anymore.” This was the first time he really looked at her since he’d come in. In spite of her tear-streaks, her facial pinkness, and the overall expression of disdain, Fanshawe felt a soft explosion in his belly. Her body, her gray eyes and indescribable hair, her curves and legs and her bosom—the totality of her sexiness could’ve made him melt. Even after this giant headache…I’m still crazy about her.

She could’ve been a stoic mannequin standing there now. Suddenly her anger turned to dread. “Stew? Please don’t tell my father.”

Of all the comments she could make, this sounded the least explicable. “Why would I tell your father? I just got done telling you I’d—”

“I’m serious, Stew. I’m really confused right now, and pretty damn ashamed. I don’t know if I’m even thinking straight. But if my father found out about me doing coke again…,” then her voice dissolved with the thought.

“You father seems like a pretty understanding guy, Abbie—”

“Oh, he is, he’s a wonderful man, and I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for him. He saved me. He dragged me out of Nashua and brought me back here, took care of me, got me clean. But what you have to understand about my father is…he’s a very structured person.”

“Structured?”

“Yeah. He has certain systems for dealing with things. Let me put it this way: he doesn’t give two second chances. I already got my first one. He forgave me the first time because I’m his daughter and he loves me. It crushed him, it wounded him, suddenly realizing how I’d deceived him. My father won’t allow himself to go through the wringer again, and I can’t say I blame him. His system for dealing with heartbreak is to terminate the source.” Her eyes began to fill with more tears. “That’s what would happen if he found out I was doing coke again. I’d be disowned, Stew. He’d kick me out of this house, write me out of his will, and erase me as if I’d never existed. And I know I’d deserve it.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. Because you just quit cocaine, and I’m going to make sure you quit for good.”

She looked about to fall apart, teetering forward. “Promise me, Stew. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

“I promise I won’t tell him. Now stop acting like this.” He was getting exasperated, and he knew it was because of this monumental monkey wrench that had just been dropped into his mental machinery. “And don’t blow