My ticket away from the pixie pad came in the form of a letter from the apartment manager notifying us they were increasing our rent. All I had to do was muster the motivation to find another apartment and write a letter declaring my intent to terminate the lease.
It was early in the shift at the station and I sat with Dustin looking through apartment listings. He was as anxious for me to leave as I was so he could move Wayland in with him. I think I cramped his pixie lifestyle. My apartment search was interrupted by the phone.
"Phillips, this is Darren."
"I'm sorry, Darren. It was an accident." Jack's voice was shaking.
"Huh?"
"I'm sorry."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
The line went dead, leaving me to spend the next five hours fearing the worst. Jack hadn't been to work all week. He spent every day sitting in the recliner, holding bizarre conversations with the cats. The only things he put in his body for five days were vodka, pixie dust, and cocaine. There was a lot of drama about it. Jack's sister called daily wailing for a half hour about what would become of her dear brother. His coworkers and employers at the grocery store would call and explain in annoying detail how they wanted to help him through this. Halfway through the week, they talked Jack into coming back to work. A few hours into his shift, he was called into his boss' office.
Jack was leery of the invitation, "Why? Are you a fag? Just admit it, Ted." Jack always referred to that Jane's Addiction Song, which he was convinced was about homosexuality.
He was sent home to resume his vodka/accelerant binge.
I pulled into the apartment complex and saw Dustin's car in the parking lot. I also saw Tracy's Jeep. She was supposed to be working. I felt that horrible rush approaching from the distance - the rush that carried a nasty panic attack with it. If that call earlier in the day had anything to do with her...
I ran up the three flights of stairs as fast as my nicotine-and-tar-coated lungs would allow. I opened the door and saw Tracy sitting on the floor. Dustin was in the recliner and Jack was on the couch. There were two pizzas in the middle of their circle. Tracy was quiet and looked at me with a frown. A steady flow of adrenaline began coursing through my veins, "What's going on?"
"My sister had some pizza delivered. I'm not eating. You can have some if you want," Jack slurred, "I'm sorry, Darren."
I looked at Tracy, "Sorry about what?"
Jack raised a wobbly hand and motioned behind me, "Your CDs."
All of my Beatles and Led Zeppelin CDs were opened and strewn across the counter behind me. I grabbed one and examined it, then another, and another. They were all coated with some sort of sticky goo, "Goddamnit, what the fuck is this shit?"
"I'm sorry, Darren. I spilled my vodka."
"Just shut up."
I dug up some window cleaner and sprayed it on a CD, then wiped it off carefully with a cloth. I put it in the player and it worked fine. I tried another. They were all undamaged, "Dude, you're freaking out over nothing. They're fine. Forget about it."
I sat down next to Tracy and had a couple of slices of pizza. She remained silent. I could feel the tension in her. Jack was eyeing her closely, "You know, Tracy, you're really pretty," Jack emitted a nervous speed-induced cackle.
I chuckled. Even if we weren't so deeply involved, Tracy would never have anything to do with someone like him.
Jack quickly stood up, spilling vodka all over himself, the floor, the couch and the pizza, "You want to start some shit, Darren? Come on, I'll fucking put an end to it right now."
I was shocked by his sudden mood swing. He went from barely conscious to enraged in a fragment of time immeasurably small, "Dude, sit down. You're fucked up."
"I'll fucking kill you!"
Tracy turned red and stood up, jabbing her finger at Jack's face, "Sit down and leave him alone! I hate you! I hate you!"
Dustin sat back in the recliner, "Jack, if you fuck with him, then you're fucking with me too. He's my blood. I'm not putting up with any of your shit. I'll kill you."
I felt a pounding headache coming on. I found the drama deeply embarrassing, and wondered how long it would be before Jerry Springer contacted all of us. "Everyone just settle down. Damn."
I stood and took Tracy by the hand, "Come on, let's go hang out in my room."
We shut the bedroom door behind us. Joon was a lump under the blankets I had strewn in a pile on the floor as a bed. I could hear the muffled blur of Jack's voice through the door.
"God, I hate him, Darren. He's been hitting on me ever since I got here with the pizza."
"I know. I have to get out of this shit-hole. I have five days left to find an apartment."
My door flung open, "Yeah, run and hide in your room like a fag, Darren. You're no man. I'll end your little life right here and now and show your little girlfriend what a whore she really is." Jack laughed obnoxiously and headed back to the living room, leaving my door open.
Of all the drugs I ever took, none caused me to completely lose control - as much as I sought the relief of that experience. But Jack's voice shredded through my head like Shafto's. Something alien took over my body. I was conscious of my surroundings, but it seemed to be at a lower level than usual. There seemed to be a black mist around the images I was seeing with my eyes. My body went numb, then vanished and my mind withdrew... somewhere... like Kalyptis disappearing into the night after a 3-story plunge.
Like a robot, I stood and went to my closet and took out my Grandpa's old rifle. I grabbed a bullet out of a desk drawer and loaded the gun. I put my finger on the trigger and headed for the living room. There was only one thought in my head: kill Jack.
In that moment of rage, I heard a voice. It was pure and sweet and it reached a part of me that had just been shoved aside, "Darren, don't!"
My heart almost broke from the fear and pleading in that voice. I stopped. My arms and legs were weak and shaking. My head was spinning and my heart racing. I dropped to the floor and put my head in my hands. I drew on my experience from the days on painkillers to fight back the contractions in my stomach that signaled an impending vomit.
"Tracy, I can't stay here tonight. I need to stay with you."
"Let's go."
I grabbed Joon in one hand and held onto the rifle in the other. Tracy followed me into the living room. I kept the rifle aimed at Jack, "You just sit the fuck there and keep your motherfucking mouth shut." I was still shaking.
I think that moment snapped Jack back into the real world the way Tracy's voice had done for me. He sat motionless on the couch. His eyes were watering and filled with terror. He didn't utter a word - just quietly watched as we left the apartment.
That night, I slept next to Tracy with such peace as I hadn't experienced in a very long time, if ever. The next day I gave the apartment manager a letter notifying them I would be terminating the lease and she could work out a new lease with my cousin if she wanted.
Jack hadn't stopped his binge that night I left holding him at gunpoint and Dustin kicked him out. A few days later, Peter and Wayland were hanging out at the pixie pad with Dustin. They heard a pounding on the door, "Come on, let me in! I hear you guys in there! Dustin let me in! I'm going to kill you!"
They tried to remain silent, but Jack was persistent. He continued to pound on the door and yell a stream of nonsense at the top of his lungs.
Peter had enough, "Dustin, if he's threatening to kill you, go call the police. Where's your shotgun?"
Dustin went to the closet and got his loaded gun and gave it to Peter. He and Wayland went outside and held Jack there until the police arrived.
The police ran Jack's name through their computer and could find no trace of him anywhere - he had been using an alias the entire time. They took him to jail and eventually figured out who he was. He went back to prison for violating his parole and nobody has heard from him since.
Posted by DevilMonkey at 9:31 PM