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Shutting my eyes, I let the weed do its job. “I got about two hours last night.”
I don’t have to open my eyes and look at her to know she’s watching me. I can feel the heat of her stare on the side of my face.
“You can’t survive like that. You need to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep once I get a pill.”
Her huff of breath alerts me that this conversation is about to get serious. “You need to talk to someone.”
“I’ve tried that remember,” I say cracking my eyes open to look at her. “Didn’t work.”
When I was nine, my mother took me to see someone about the nightmares. Not because she cared, but she got tired of me waking up crying and screaming in the middle of the night.
They tried to put me on medication, but by then I was terrified of medicine. To avoid going back to the shrink, I started to act out before every appointment. Mommy got fed up and stopped taking me. She stopped caring all together after a while.
“Something has to give, Summer. You can’t keep living like this.”
“Trina,” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You know I usually love our little pep talks, but I’m running off two hours of sleep in three days. I need a place to crash until I find another alternative.”
Look, I know I have a problem. Trust me, no one feels the effects of my life choices more than me. I’ve tried to get better, I’ve even been clean a few times, but that shit never lasts.
“You can crash here for the night until we find something else. It’s too risky for you to stay here longer than that. He’s been here once looking for you and that black Tahoe drives by at least twice a day.”
“There is nowhere else for me to go,” I say, sitting up placing my elbows on my knees.
“I just got paid, I can help you get a hotel for about two weeks.”
I shake my head, “You have your own bills to take care of. I’m not taking your money.”
She passes me the blunt and I sit up straight, taking another drag of it.
“I need to get out of town and start over in like Kansas or someplace,” I groan, allowing the smoke to puff out with each word. “For that, I need money. A lot of money.” Running my hands through my damaged hair, I place the green to my lips again. “Maybe I should just turn myself in to Nic. At least if I’m dead I can sleep, and I won’t be anybody else’s problem.”
Trina snatches the blunt out of my fingers.
“Hey,” I argue.
“If you’re going to be talking that type of bullshit, you don’t need any more weed.” She places the blunt back down in the ashtray.
She turns to me, tucking her leg under her butt. “You’re right about one thing. You need to leave New York. Nic is never going to stop looking for you. Rightfully so,” she adds with a smirk.
I roll my eyes flopping back against the couch. “I know. But unless you have a stack of cash lying around that you don’t want, that’s not going to happen.”
Trina’s head tilts to the side as she watches me. “I might have a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”
“Well, I’m not feeling encouraged right now about it,” I laugh.
She leans forward, placing her hands in a prayer position. “Alright, I know this guy—”
“No.”
“Summer,” she starts to plead but I don’t want to hear it.
I stand from the sofa, but she grabs my hand and yanks me back down.
“Sit your ass down and listen,” she demands. Her tone has my head snapping in her direction.
Trina runs a hand through her gorgeous lace front wig.
