When I imagined Simon’s face saying, “I don’t love you,” it felt as if all the blood drained from my body. Simon doesn’t love me? Jerome no longer cares for me? Then I… what am I to do…?A soft scrape of slippers on the floor pulled me back to reality. I was still in Teddy’s apartment. He appeared in front of me—me sprawled drunk, legs stretched out—and watched me.Teddy stood with his arms folded, looking down at me. I was so drunk my senses dulled. He nudged one foot between my ankles, then gently shoved, spreading my legs apart to his shoulder width. I dropped my arms to the floor and stared up at him. He crouched between my ankles.“You get wasted fast.”He spoke unexpectedly. I said nothing and kept staring.“I shouldn’t have dosed you with Lupis back there. If I’d let you just drink a few more, I could’ve taken advantage without all this fuss.”“Good thing you did. Now’s your chance.”We stared at each other. Teddy sighed, grabbed my arm, and hauled me upright until my shoulder rested on his. I looked down at Teddy, who was at least a handspan shorter than me, as he dragged me by the legs into the bedroom. He pushed me onto the neatly made bed.I lay back blinking, silently watching him. Teddy tugged me to the center, then climbed up to prop a pillow under my head. He gave me a cruel little grin.“You said you’d do it with your own mouth, remember?”Drunk, my head wouldn’t turn around. Watching Teddy’s nasty grin made me feel only pity.“If you’re going to do it, use a condom.”His cruel expression vanished. Muttering irritably, he even tucked the sheet around me.“I was going to pay you. Why would I fuck someone like you sober?”“Sleep it off. I’ve got work soon and need some shut‐eye too.”He rose and drew the blackout curtains. The room went utterly dark. Without another word, ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Teddy closed the door. I stared at the ceiling until I drifted off.My lips burned so badly they woke me. My throat was dry. Unlike at Christine’s place, this time I immediately recognized Teddy’s bedroom. The drunken haze still lingered but without a full hangover, only dizziness. I groped for the curtains, dragged them open, and saw only pitch‐black night outside. I crawled from the bedroom, found the bathroom, and recoiled at my reflection: my lips crusted and bloody. No wonder they hurt—I must have bit them while drunk. I washed the blood away and laughed at the sight of my scabbed lips.Then I remembered telling Teddy to seize his chance—no wonder he recoiled. I wiped my face dry, rummaged in the drawer for a fresh toothbrush, and brushed. I changed into fresh clothes from my duffle and left the apartment, leaving my bag behind.After two nights of disgrace, I felt inexplicably refreshed. I headed straight back to New Cauton. Near midnight I entered the strip club where Teddy worked—“Moulin Rouge.” Instead of finding Teddy, I took a seat by the stage where the dancers performed.I ordered a drink and watched the men dance and strut. One dancer slipped close, wiggled his hips in my face, and I tucked a few notes into his thonged briefs. Pleased, he stroked my cheek and grinned.“How about a lap dance?”I only drank. He pinched my cheek and moved on. I kept drinking until singer acts came out—dancing, singing, flirting for drinks and tips. I drank until I collapsed, drowsy beyond staying awake.I thought I heard them call the manager, then Teddy appeared. He took one look at me slumped on the floor and stepped back in disbelief.“Hey, Teddy! Teddy!”I waved and smiled, offering my hand.“Why did you leave without a word?”Teddy, stunned, finally scooped me up. I napped in the staff lounge until around six in the morning. Still drunk, I leaned on Teddy’s shoulder in the cab home. He kept pushing me away until he gave in and held my head.Back at the apartment, he laid me on the bed and tapped the pillow beside me.“Sleep with me.”He slammed the door, telling me not to be ridiculous.By lunch I woke alone. My stomach churned but I managed coffee and a shower. In just boxers, I surfaced and grabbed a beer from the fridge. When I’d drunk half, I heard the front door. Peeking out, I saw Teddy returning with groceries, swapping slippers. He scowled.“Hey. If you’re up, at least put on some clothes.”He spotted my beer and grimaced.“Drinking again?”“Want to eat?”I offered; instead of answering, he smacked my shoulder and walked off—hardly hurtful, even cute. I followed him into the kitchen.He unloaded groceries and began cooking. His knife skills surprised me. When I hovered, he snapped, “Stop pestering me!” I obediently crouched in a corner. Though annoyed, he didn’t protest further. He whipped up a pot of New England clam chowder, set it on the table, and crumpled an empty can—our eyes met.“You not eating?”He asked gruffly. I sat opposite. Drunk and buzzed, I nodded as he pushed a bowl to me. After one spoonful I looked up; he watched me expectantly. I took another sip and said,“Tastes awful.”His face fell.“You’re a terrible cook.”“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it!”He reached for the bowl; I lifted it away.“Since you made it, I’ll eat.”“Don’t you dare!”He stood, so I retreated to the living room, eating the soup there. After half a bowl, he gave up.A beer and soup made me sleepy again. My stomach churned, so I crawled back to the bed. Teddy exploded, “Why are you going to bed again?” Instead of answering, I lay down, tapped the empty spot, and this time he climbed in beside me. I hadn’t expected him to join me, but curling up together felt good: the bed springs pressed under two similar weights.I hugged him spontaneously. His warm, firm body felt right. When he tried to bat me off, I tangled my limbs around him so he couldn’t move. I fell asleep holding him like a teddy bear, nose against his neck.When I woke, Teddy was gone to work. I stole his shirt, dressed, and headed straight back to the strip club. I sat where I had the night before, ordered a drink, and watched the dancers. I sobered faster, and staff soon fetched Teddy for me. He winced at the sight of me again but left me alone this time; perhaps he knew I’d break in through the window if he didn’t. He led me to the staff lounge where I napped until he knocked off work and drove me home once more.Curled against Teddy on the bed, I fell asleep—and woke to nausea that sent me vomiting in the bathroom. I rinsed my mouth with beer while Teddy leaned against the fridge, looking exasperated.“If you have any conscience, you should give me at least half the tips you steal from the dancers.”“I already take half.”“Then it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”“You’re such an asshole.”He muttered. Those next days blurred—I lost track of time, stuck in a haze of booze and nighttime roving until I barely noticed the chill creeping into the air.One evening, someone I didn’t know sat beside me. He cracked jokes about the dancers. Normally I’d ignore him, but after days of this, his face became familiar and I listened quietly. He offered me something “to liven me up.”It was cocaine. As with James back in Bluebell, I was no stranger to injections, but snorting was new. We pressed our heads together and inhaled; my skull buzzed. Giggling we banged our foreheads on the table until staff once again summoned Teddy. He took me back to the staff room, where I collapsed on the fold‐down bed. Even falling onto the floor left me too drugged to care.Back at the apartment, Teddy fetched me to bed. My body was heavy and calm; I drifted off. He stirred beside me, and I held him tight until he quieted. When I opened my eyes, he watched me wordlessly, and finally spoke in a low whisper:“Don’t do drugs.”He pressed close.“One hit and you’re hooked.”“…”“You don’t have money. I know you’re poor. Don’t ruin yourself chasing money for drugs. Stop now.”I studied his face—so ordinary, smooth, and without harsh angles—one of countless bad guys you’d see as a one‐line extra villain in a movie, then unexpectedly killed. I stared and smiled. He cocked one eyebrow. Playing with his hair, I whispered:“Live kindly.”He blinked at me.“Even now, live kindly.”I leaned in, kissed his lips, and closed my eyes.“Sleep now.”He lay still, and I was asleep before him.True to some unspoken promise, the coke dealer kept showing up at that spot. He began selling me drugs openly; I didn’t hesitate to buy. The bills I’d once tipped dancers now went into his pocket. He stopped drinking with me—didn’t matter.I spent my nights at the stage edge, drinking and drugging until I sank into sleep. Every time, Teddy brought me home. He never lectured me on the alcohol or drugs, but I noticed my stash of coke would vanish from my pocket.One night, I sat at the stage edge, waiting for the dealer, ignoring the dancers. Finally, one dancer stopped in front of me, clicking his high heel on the floor. I looked up: a familiar drag queen with a gold wig down to his waist. He peered at me from above.“You must be that stalker. You looked fine—why’d you turn into a junkie?”The man climbed into my lap, pulled bills from his pocket, and stuffed them into mine before I could react. He stroked my cheek and purred:“You used to have a face worth looking at—now you’re just an old man.”He laughed at me, and I stared back, numb, my world spinning in booze and drugs while the dancers, Teddy, and the stranger all played their part in my collapse. And I let them.

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