Everything I Used to be is Coming Back to Torture Me
Drug Deal
From the moment the band arrived in Evansville, Brian noticed that Clover was acting more strange than usual. She wasn’t talking or even interacting much with her band mates; she just did what she needed to do to prepare for the concert and not much else. Brian noticed that she appeared nervous, but when they asked her about it, she just said that it was because of the concert. That instantly piqued Brian’s interest; Clover didn’t act this way when she was nervous about the concerts. She’d stopped having pre-concert jitters anyway, just like they had told her she would.
“I’m going for a walk,” Clover announced at around two in the afternoon. The rest of the band just sat around enjoying the few spare moments of quiet and relaxation they experienced so infrequently on tour. She got to her feet and stepped out of the room, no doubt heading for the back door out of the venue.
Brian glanced over at Matt and saw him frowning at the door that Clover had just disappeared through. Matt turned his head and his eyes met with Brian’s. Brian saw the same suspicion he felt in Matt’s gaze. He instantly rose to his feet and went out the door as well. Something was fishy with Clover and the way she’d been acting, and Brian wanted to know just exactly what was going on.
Brian followed after Clover at a reasonable distance, hoping she wouldn’t look over her shoulder and find him following her. She left the venue through the back entrance, just as Brian had thought she would, and then started down the sidewalk. She walked swiftly and with definite purpose, avoiding eye contact with the people she passed and keeping her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. This was no meandering walk around the block; Clover was definitely on a mission to go somewhere. Brian had a hunch that wherever she meant to go, it was the reason Clover had been acting strangely.
Since the state of the buildings and homes around them slowly began to deteriorate as they walked on, Brian deduced that they were headed into a bad part of town. He walked casually but kept pace with her, keeping an eye on her bobbing ponytail through the crowd. As they went deeper and deeper into the crumbling neighborhoods of the slums, the crowd lessened until it was just Clover and Brian walking about twenty yards apart. Brian prayed with all his might that Clover wouldn’t look around. She never did; she seemed too focused on her destination.
Brian started to feel uneasy. He wasn’t very concerned about his own safety, but that of Clover’s. She had planned on heading into the bad part of town on her own. She didn’t possess any weapons, and as far as Brian knew, no self-defense skills whatsoever. Going into these bad neighborhoods was just asking for trouble, and yet, for all she knew, Clover was headed deep into the heart of one without any protection whatsoever. It worried Brian, this reckless lack of self-preservation Clover was suddenly exhibiting.
After twenty minutes of that swift, focused walking, the two of them ended up on a rundown little street. Half the houses on the street were abandoned and boarded up. Brian felt a chill up his spine; the place seemed to fester with a sense of foreboding. He didn’t like it at all. Clover, on the other hand, didn’t even falter. About halfway down the street, she stopped and turned her head to look at one of the boarded up houses. Brian moved to hide behind some bushes, made bare by the wintery weather, but Clover never made any indication that she saw him. She seemed to be looking at something on the house. After a few moments, she pivoted the rest of her body towards the house. She disappeared into the house through the hole that had once held the front door. To Brian, she looked like Aurora in Sleeping Beauty as she walked, entranced, towards the needle that would put her to sleep.
Brian walked around the perimeter of the house, trying to find a place where he could look in. He peered in each window, but they were all boarded up or covered with cloth. Finally, he found the perfect spot in the back of the house. There was a space between the boards in one of the windows, a space hardly big enough to take notice of but big enough for Brian to look through. It looked in on the kitchen, or at least what used to be the kitchen.
A man sat at a little table set up in the middle of the room. As Brian watched, Clover walked into the room. She looked nervous and timid; Brian urged her to just turn around and leave, but she still sat down, resting her hands gently on the top of the table. Brian had a terrible feeling about this. What the hell was Clover doing?
The spot wasn’t perfect, not completely. Brian couldn’t hear a word that passed between them. He strained to read Clover’s lips, trying to get a grasp on the conversation, but it was extremely difficult through the little peephole. After the two went back and forth a few times, Clover reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. She held it out to the man and he took it, quickly counting it before tucking it away in his own pocket. Clover waited patiently as he fished around in his own jacket. Finally, he pulled out a plastic bag about one quarter full of green plant-looking stuff.
Brian just barely held in a string of cuss words. The possibility that this was a drug deal had been scrolling through the back of his mind, but he had been holding it back with the hope that Clover was better and smarter than that. Of course the mysterious plant substance was marijuana. Brian was having a hard time comprehending what he was seeing. It seemed so unlike Clover. What had caused this? Did they misjudge her? Had she always been a druggie?
As Brian pondered what this meant, Clover stood up, tucked the bag away, and left the room. Brian ducked down away from the window and went around the side of the house, waiting for Clover to pass and then slowly counting to ten before following after her.
“I’m going for a walk,” Clover announced at around two in the afternoon. The rest of the band just sat around enjoying the few spare moments of quiet and relaxation they experienced so infrequently on tour. She got to her feet and stepped out of the room, no doubt heading for the back door out of the venue.
Brian glanced over at Matt and saw him frowning at the door that Clover had just disappeared through. Matt turned his head and his eyes met with Brian’s. Brian saw the same suspicion he felt in Matt’s gaze. He instantly rose to his feet and went out the door as well. Something was fishy with Clover and the way she’d been acting, and Brian wanted to know just exactly what was going on.
Brian followed after Clover at a reasonable distance, hoping she wouldn’t look over her shoulder and find him following her. She left the venue through the back entrance, just as Brian had thought she would, and then started down the sidewalk. She walked swiftly and with definite purpose, avoiding eye contact with the people she passed and keeping her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. This was no meandering walk around the block; Clover was definitely on a mission to go somewhere. Brian had a hunch that wherever she meant to go, it was the reason Clover had been acting strangely.
Since the state of the buildings and homes around them slowly began to deteriorate as they walked on, Brian deduced that they were headed into a bad part of town. He walked casually but kept pace with her, keeping an eye on her bobbing ponytail through the crowd. As they went deeper and deeper into the crumbling neighborhoods of the slums, the crowd lessened until it was just Clover and Brian walking about twenty yards apart. Brian prayed with all his might that Clover wouldn’t look around. She never did; she seemed too focused on her destination.
Brian started to feel uneasy. He wasn’t very concerned about his own safety, but that of Clover’s. She had planned on heading into the bad part of town on her own. She didn’t possess any weapons, and as far as Brian knew, no self-defense skills whatsoever. Going into these bad neighborhoods was just asking for trouble, and yet, for all she knew, Clover was headed deep into the heart of one without any protection whatsoever. It worried Brian, this reckless lack of self-preservation Clover was suddenly exhibiting.
After twenty minutes of that swift, focused walking, the two of them ended up on a rundown little street. Half the houses on the street were abandoned and boarded up. Brian felt a chill up his spine; the place seemed to fester with a sense of foreboding. He didn’t like it at all. Clover, on the other hand, didn’t even falter. About halfway down the street, she stopped and turned her head to look at one of the boarded up houses. Brian moved to hide behind some bushes, made bare by the wintery weather, but Clover never made any indication that she saw him. She seemed to be looking at something on the house. After a few moments, she pivoted the rest of her body towards the house. She disappeared into the house through the hole that had once held the front door. To Brian, she looked like Aurora in Sleeping Beauty as she walked, entranced, towards the needle that would put her to sleep.
Brian walked around the perimeter of the house, trying to find a place where he could look in. He peered in each window, but they were all boarded up or covered with cloth. Finally, he found the perfect spot in the back of the house. There was a space between the boards in one of the windows, a space hardly big enough to take notice of but big enough for Brian to look through. It looked in on the kitchen, or at least what used to be the kitchen.
A man sat at a little table set up in the middle of the room. As Brian watched, Clover walked into the room. She looked nervous and timid; Brian urged her to just turn around and leave, but she still sat down, resting her hands gently on the top of the table. Brian had a terrible feeling about this. What the hell was Clover doing?
The spot wasn’t perfect, not completely. Brian couldn’t hear a word that passed between them. He strained to read Clover’s lips, trying to get a grasp on the conversation, but it was extremely difficult through the little peephole. After the two went back and forth a few times, Clover reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. She held it out to the man and he took it, quickly counting it before tucking it away in his own pocket. Clover waited patiently as he fished around in his own jacket. Finally, he pulled out a plastic bag about one quarter full of green plant-looking stuff.
Brian just barely held in a string of cuss words. The possibility that this was a drug deal had been scrolling through the back of his mind, but he had been holding it back with the hope that Clover was better and smarter than that. Of course the mysterious plant substance was marijuana. Brian was having a hard time comprehending what he was seeing. It seemed so unlike Clover. What had caused this? Did they misjudge her? Had she always been a druggie?
As Brian pondered what this meant, Clover stood up, tucked the bag away, and left the room. Brian ducked down away from the window and went around the side of the house, waiting for Clover to pass and then slowly counting to ten before following after her.