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“You know the answer to that,” I say, my tone berating.
“I wish I knew how to fix this for you, Aris.”
“I know. I wish you knew how to also. My mind is not my own,” I bristle, clicking my tongue on the roof of my mouth.
“Well… if you're gonna be a lawyer, be the best one you can be,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Show everyone that they may stand in your way of doing what you dreamt of, but what they’re forcing you to be, you’ll be better than they ever dreamed of being. You’ll put them all to shame, Aris. I know you will.”
“Wish I could be as chipper as you are about it all,” I say, sighing.
“You can do this Aris and still find happiness,” she argues, making me roll my eyes.
TWENTY YEARS OLD
“Come on, Aris. Come dance with me,” Angelica begs. She’s wasted, otherwise, she wouldn’t be pushing her luck. I don’t make a fool of myself and she knows it. She’s a good girl and isn’t usually so needy when it comes to me. We have a ‘friends with benefits’ type of relationship. However, I don’t do showmanship when it comes to those I bed. It leads to mixed messages and I’m all for making these things as clear as possible. I’m not ready to be tied down to one woman, and until that day comes, I don’t do public displays of… anything.
“No,” I snap. “Stop hanging off me, Angelica. It’s beginning to piss me the hell off. We don’t do this public thing, remember?” I point my finger between the small space she’s left between us.
“Why are you so grouchy? I just want to have a fun time.” She starts pouting, sticking out her bottom lip. “It’s just a dance, I’m not asking you to claim me as yours in front of everyone.”
“Angelica, leave him alone already,” Berkley berates. “Look, you’re being summoned by the rest of the bimbos.”
Her jaw drops at his putdown. “Are you just going to stand there and let him demean me like that? My friends and I are not bimbos!”
I’m still stuck on her use of ‘claim me as yours’ that she just spewed. Looks like it’s time to cut those strings and find someone else to fill my lonely nights.
TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD
“Don’t do this, Berkley!” I holler, giving him chest compressions. I knew life was getting to be too damn much for him, but for him to stoop to drugs isn’t something I ever thought he’d ever contemplate doing.
“Duncan called 9-1-1. They’re five minutes out,” Bryson tells me as he communicates with the dispatcher. She’s giving me instructions through him while I continue to administer CPR—following her every directive as she hands out instructions.
“What’d he take?” I ask, my eyes roaming around the room, waiting for someone, anyone to answer.
“Angelica slipped him something in his drink to help him relax. He’s been so wound up lately that we’ve been worried that he was gonna snap,” Lakon answers, biting her bottom lip.
Bryson, still on the phone with the dispatcher, walks up to Angelica, who has tears streaming down her cheeks, and states through a growl, “Guess he’ll be nice and relaxed if he ends up six feet under, huh, bitch?” He’s so fucking angry that his entire body is vibrating.
“It was just a Valium,” Angelica wails.
“Fuck. Tell the lady that he’s had an adverse reaction to Diazepam in the past,” I instruct, shooting laser beams at Angelica. “He was hospitalized after going into shock the last time he was prescribed the medication to keep himcalm.” I hiss the last word, my gaze steadily glued onto the cunt. Who the fuck does she think she is anyway?
TEN HOURS LATER
“He’s in a coma with a tube stuck down his throat to help him breathe!” Berlynn hollers. “Where were you? You two were supposed to have each other’s backs. What kind of friend are you?” she whispers, cupping her palms over her cheeks.
“One of our classmates crushed a Valium into his drink to help him ‘relax’ and let loose. None of us guys knew about it or we would’ve stopped it,” I exclaim, pissed beyond belief that they’d for one second think I’d stand back while this happened. Especially since I know his history. There’s no fucking way that I’d willingly let his life be in any sort of danger.
Shouting in the hallway has me and Berlynn ending our standoff and rushing out to the corridor. Security is standing between our dads, holding them back from pummeling each other. Both of our mothers' faces are reddened with tear streaks as they stand behind their husbands, trembling.
Needless to say, by the time the day ended, so did our family’s lifelong friendship.
CHAPTER
ONE
BERLYNN
“Dammit, Berkley!”I holler as he tosses his bowl of cereal at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I stand with my hands buried into my hips as I scowl at him. That commercial we watched as youngsters that took an egg and cracked it then stated this is what happens to your brain on drugs, was spot on. He’s turned into a juvenile delinquent and has the mindset of one as well.
