Page 27 of Always Love You More

I drop the stuff on the table, and Marcus leans forward greedily. He pours out some coke, cuts it into lines, and then rolls up a bill and snorts it. He gives a turn to whoever wants it, and I notice Johnny passes. My father notices, too.

I’ve never liked the idea of doing drugs. I’ve seen firsthand what it can do to people. How desperate it makes them. I’d never want something to have control over me like that. The idea scares the shit out of me. So, I keep my distance from it. But sometimes, when everyone’s watching like they are now, image has to win over fear.

The only thing worse than being weak is looking weak.

Taking the dollar bill, I drop to my knees and bend forward. I don’t have to look up to know my father is watching me. I snort the line, scrunching my nose at the burn, and run my fingers across it.

Marcus slaps my back, hooting and hollering about something. He glances over at Johnny. “You sure you don’t want some? It’s good quality shit.”

“It’s not my thing,” Johnny answers.

My father leans in, his hand sliding down my mother’s leg.

She reaches forward. “I’ll have some.”

Marcus looks to my father, who shakes his head. “She’s done.”

“But I—”

A glare from my father cuts her off.

She glances over at me.

“Don’t look at him,” my father snaps. “The answer is no.”

She pushes back into the couch with a pout.

My father turns his attention to Johnny. “It’s rude not to accept a gift,” he tells him.

My attention shifts between the two of them as I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.

Johnny takes a sip of his beer, and I grab my empty cup, standing to go in search of some water.

“Don’t mean any disrespect.” he answers.

My father assesses him, but Johnny doesn’t waver.

“You’ve got balls, kid,” he says. “I’ll give you that.” He points at him, but turns to Marcus. “I like this one.”

I wonder if I would have gotten the same reaction if I refused.

I doubt it.

Slipping away, I finally find a drink and linger around the party, trying to avoid anyone’s attention. I’m jittery as fuck, and the music and people are only making it worse.

My father’s voice filters through the noise, and I eventually make my way back over to him. I’ve already been gone for at least an hour, and if I keep to myself much longer, he’ll just come looking for me.

“Where’s Big Jim?” he asks Marcus as I sit down beside him. “I thought I told you to tell him to come tonight.”

Marcus looks around, fidgeting. “I did.”

My father stares at him, waiting. When Marcus just stands there, he says, “Well, go find him.” He looks over at me. “I think it’s time Jameson here gets his first tattoo.”

Marcus returns not even five minutes later with Big Jim in tow. My father stands and grabs his hand, smacking him on the back. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Big Jim answers, his voice labored. He got the nickname for a reason, and it isn’t his height. He’s completely covered in tattoos, even his face. The guy looks scary as hell, but I’ve known him since I was a little kid. He’s actually really chill.

“Left my shit out in the car,” Big Jim says, starting for the door. My father has been getting his tattoos done by him forever. He owns a tattoo place downtown, but he usually comes to us.