Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
She heard the electronic click of the lock on the hotel door and her panic turned to dread. The same way she’d done in the early hours of the morning when she turned a circle on the rave floor and realized she couldn’t see Nico. He hadn’t gone far, but the crumbs of a pill that he’d allowed her to share made the room swirl and the faces blur whenever she tried to stand still. A guy stepped in and touched her; he wanted to dance.
Punches got thrown. The spinning room became a spinning Uber shorty after. And then a hotel she hadn’t seen because they headed straight for Neon Rage right off the plane.
“Room Service!” came the call into the room as the door opened.
Frankie outright grabbed Nico to pull him over onto his back, determined to get him to wake up. Except as light spilled into the dark room, with paneled walls, mirrors overhead, and dark bedding to match the furniture, she could finally see why he didn’t.
Why he couldn’t. His lips were blue.
“Nico!”
She shook him so hard, but he didn’t blink. He didn’t twitch. Nothing.
“Nico, wake up,” she cried, tears already falling.
“I’ll take it from here, thank you,” came the second voice again.
She barely registered the door closing, or the well-dressed man with dark hair that approached the bed. She was too busy tapping Nico’s cheek and squeezing his bloodied, bruised hand that hadn’t even gotten the chance to heal before he beat it into someone else’s face.
“Sorry for the lack of introduction, kiddo. Could you cover up?”
It was only then that Frankie realized she didn’t have any clothes on. The rest of their first early morning hours in Chicago filtered back to her as the seconds turned into a minute, and the man now slapping Nico and holding his head back so his mouth would stay open rapid-fired question after question at her.
“Where did you go when you arrived?” he asked her.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Do you want him to die?” the man asked.
“I, uh...”
“Where did you go?”
“Neon Rage.”
The man peered down at Nico again, asking, “And what did you take? Or what did he take?”
“Um, he said molly. MDMA? I didn’t have a lot, not like he did.”
“Fuck,” the man snarled. “You’re sure it was Neon Rage?”
Frankie nodded wildly, tears flying everywhere as she sobbed. “Yeah.”
“Where’s his bag?” the man asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t—”
“Find the fucking bag!”
He roared the words at her a second time just before dropping down to blow two breaths of air into Nico’s mouth. Frankie’s legs were Jello, and she still didn’t have any clothes on, as she stumbled around the hotel room. It felt like forever, but it didn’t take her too long to spy the black bookbag Nico hadn’t let out of his sight.
“Inside the bag, check for a goody pack,” he demanded, his head falling to Nico’s chest for a second.
“A what?”
“A fucking bag in the goddamn bag! You’ll know what I’m talking about!”
He put his head to Nico’s chest, listening there.
“Come on, kid, we are running out of time here,” he snarled.
Another two breaths went into Nico. Frankie found the bag.
The only thing in Nico’s backpack that weren’t his or hers was a plastic Ziplock bag with the Neon Rage logo stamped on it.
“Keep cutting this fucking shit with Fentanyl all the fucking time,” the man raged under his breath after snatching the bag from Frankie. He found whatever it was he needed, something that looked like a nasal spray. He continued to bitch about the supply on his streets and things she didn’t understand as he opened the package and put the contents under Nico’s nose. He looked at Frankie, saying, “This is not going to be nice, okay? Sorry, but if you wanna play with drugs, this is what can happen. Either go in another room or just keep quiet for the next couple of minutes.”
“What?”
He didn’t give her the option to choose. He released whatever was in the spray.
At the same time, he pulled a silver phone from his pocket. By the time he finished dialing, Nico’s eyes had opened. His lips paled to a soft pink, and he gasped hard.
“Yeah,” the man said into the phone, “Joey boy, I need a drip girl in Suite 202 at Sybaris in the next twenty minutes. Tell her it pays well.” A second passed and he muttered, “Thanks.”
He hung up. The phone fell to the nightstand.
Right before Nico rolled to his side and vomited so much it made Frankie turn away. She couldn’t escape the sound though, or how he continued to heave and gag between struggling words.
“What t-the fu-fuck,” he mumbled. “What the fuck, man.”
“That’s what you get when you don’t party safe, kid. And I know damn well you know how to party safe,” the man replied, the sound of his hand hitting Nico’s back making Frankie shudder each time it landed. “How come your little friend here didn’t know you had a pack with Narcan in it for this?”