Thrive: Chapter 1

I’m addicted to partying. Not any drug in particular.Jay:

Okay. Tell me about the time when you figured that out.Therapist:

Maybe I always knew. Being the life of the party comes with a cost. For me, it was a big one.Jay:

Jay

The metal scraped against the glass table as I shoved the powder into one last white line. I’d snorted only two. This last one wasn’t going to push me over the edge into addiction.

Tomorrow would be better.

Tomorrow, I’d stop the partying.

I sniffed it up off the table and tilted my head back to the ceiling as I brushed the excess from my nose.

“Feeling it now, Jay?” A redhead with lips that shined like a wet lollipop whispered in my ear as she dragged her hand over my jean zipper.

The rush kicked in and had I been standing, it would have knocked me on my ass. Stars burst behind my eyelids as I closed them, the woman’s hands suddenly felt like velvet, and the beat of the music swayed me like the waves of the ocean.

I wondered why I wasn’t hard as a rock under her hand. I grabbed her by the hips and moved her to straddle me. “I’m feeling you, sweet thing.”

She giggled and shoved her tits in my face. They were fake, but they were round, big enough to be a handful, and accessible.

Just as I was about to lick her cleavage, the voice of reason and everything I didn’t need in that moment blurted out, “Jaydon Stonewood. You were supposed to meet me an hour ago to go over your script.”

Mikka Chang. My miniscule, overly organized assistant stood in the middle of the club, arms crossed, tapping the front of one of her pink stilettos on the floor, staring me down. As always, those shoes had extra high heels and were like an extension of her. She walked with precision in them when most would have fumbled just like how she walked through life. Of course, she was wearing a pink sweater that matched her footwear perfectly. My eyes trailed over the rest of her. Her skintight jeans covered her curves like latex and I nearly growled when my dick decided that was the moment it should jump to attention.

The redhead continued grinding on me and started kissing my neck like she’d finally succeeded in her efforts to turn me on. She didn’t pay any attention to the little wrecking ball in front of us.

Mikka was a tiny little thing. And yet, when she stared us down, she didn’t avert her gaze, not even for an instant. I knew my night was taking a turn. When that woman doubled down on a mission, nothing could shake her from it.

She proceeded to remove her worn leather book bag, the one she always carried with her, from her shoulder and take out a copy of the movie script we’d been working on.

“Are you kidding, Mikka?” I groaned.

“No. I’m not.” The papers thwacked onto the table near our drinks. She dug in her bag for more files and threw them on the table too. “I could have stayed in tonight if you’d told me this was your plan. Instead, you scheduled me in for the evening a week ago.”

“Can’t we reschedule?” I motioned toward the woman on top of me who I had to give props to—she hadn’t come up for air.

Mikka glared at her for two seconds. Then, she snapped her fingers in the woman’s face. “Hey. Take a breath. Go get some fresh air. Think about if you really want to sleep with a man who just made you sign an NDA, which you did make her sign, right, Jay?”

I winced as my lollipop-lipped girl scoffed and climbed off me. “Find me later when your drama leaves.”

As she walked off, my security nodded to her. They’d been the ones to make her sign an NDA, not me. “Meek, what the hell?”

She cleared her throat. “Keep to your schedule, Jaydon, and quit taking advantage of me. I’m your only real friend in this town, not your doormat. This is the third time this month you’ve blown me off and honestly, I’m starting to worry.”

My mind skittered around trying to nail down what she was talking about. Days had blurred with the partying and my nights had gotten jumbled. I didn’t want to admit that to her.

She was about the only person I didn’t want to admit that to.

“That can’t be right,” I mumbled and reached for her hand. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You know…”

She stared at our hands entangled, her dark eyes starting to glisten. “Can you please take a breather from the partying? We have a lot on our plate. I’m hard on you now because I know you can do better.”

And there went the wrecking ball. She could demolish me with just a plea. Mikka and I had met at about the same time in our careers. We were both new to the LA film industry. She wanted to get into scriptwriting, and I wanted to act in movies. Being a Stonewood with a father who ran half of a large city could have gotten me a higher profile personal assistant, but I saw the same hunger I had in Mikka’s eyes.

We took a chance on each other.

And it worked out. She was the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Sundance Kid to my Butch Cassidy, the Beyonce to my Jay-Z. And she was the one thing I worried about hurting in this city.

In four years, we’d completed six rom-coms and hundreds of interviews and built a persona for me that every male and female in their teens to their sixties enjoyed. Mikka worked for a large agency now that represented me and handled most of my business.

We were brilliant together. But she was still ruthless, still had that hunger in her eyes. And the fact that I saw pain and vulnerability there because of me made me wonder what the hell I was doing.

“You’re frustrated.” I tried to deescalate or, rather, I tried to nail down what the fuck was happening. The night was flying, spinning, messing with my emotions. The last thing I needed was her mad at me. She never pushed this hard because she knew it wasn’t the right angle to take with me.

Mikka was my rock, a steady little pebble that was solid as hell. “But, you’re also off. What’s wrong, Little Pebble?” I looked her up and down trying to find her injury or ailment.

Had I been sober, I could have pinpointed what was askew, and I immediately regretted indulging for that specific reason.

“Don’t call me that.”

She hated that I hadn’t dropped the nickname, but I’d met her lying on a sandy California beach sunbathing. She was always tiny, but her personality was hard to crack. I’d called her a little pebble that day when I’d picked one up by her side and told her she could fit right in my pocket.

“Nothing’s wrong except that I had to google locate you after being stood up. I’m your PA. Not your babysitter.” She cleared her throat and glanced away from me. She fisted her hand, and I knew she was holding back. The club wasn’t a place to cause a scene and we both knew it. She sighed loudly as she eyed the crowd that was moving to the beat.

The music blared so loud; it practically pumped my blood. The lights flickered brighter than the sun and I probably could attribute that somewhat to the cocaine I’d ingested. Even so, I couldn’t shake her tension, the way she stood like someone had rattled off the location of a timebomb to her.

“You’re lying, Meek.”

She placed a maroon-colored nail to her temple. “Can we please leave?”

“Can you please tell me what the hell is wrong?”

“This isn’t the place to tell you anything.”

“But something is wrong?” I didn’t let it go. She needed to unload whatever it was she was holding on to.

We stared at one another, her dark eyes holding something, an emotion I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Yes.”

If I couldn’t get it out of her, I’d find a way to make it better. There was something painful there, and my friends didn’t have to deal with that if I was around. “Do you want to forget about it?”

“That’s not possible.”

“Of course it is.” If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was how to forget about problems and enjoy the moment. I pulled her toward me and slid the bag from her shoulders. “Follow me.”

“Jay,” She sighed. “I don’t want to party.”

Mikka was following me though. Once in a damn solar eclipse, I would get the girl to stay late and enjoy a few drinks. She rarely ever stepped into the clubs. She’d had this longtime boyfriend ever since the day I met her. I know because I asked. And I was positive he didn’t let her stray far from his side. When I first met her, I imagined her in every damn sex fantasy I’d ever had. She looked like a Megan Fox with plump lips, dark hair and curves. Then, you mixed in her mother’s Taiwanese roots. Mikka had inherited her long, bone-straight hair with the almond eyes.

I asked about her boyfriend the day I met her because, had she been single, I would have found a way to bed that woman.

Now, we were so far friend-zoned, I knew damn well I shouldn’t have been looking at her even when every man was eyeing her up.

“You’re here. Just have a drink. Take a load off.” I pulled her farther into the VIP section where the music quieted. We found a little high table to park ourselves at. The stools had my legs bumping into her jean-covered ones.

A waitress that hovered in the area buzzed over as I lifted my chin at her. “Can you get my very sober friend the drink of her choice?”

“Water,” Mikka ground out.

“She’ll have a vodka soda with lime, and I’ll do a vodka red bull. Heavy on the vodka. Bring us lemon drop shots too.” I winked at Mikka.

She brushed her hair out of her face and stared me down with her black-as-midnight eyes. “Did you forget about our meeting or did you just blow me off?”

She wasn’t letting my lack of scheduling go. I should have remembered; I shouldn’t have been out partying. Except, that’s what you did here in LA. I had an itch and I had the money to scratch it, so I did.

“I was out late last night, Mikka. It just slipped my mind, okay?”

“Not really. I schedule your calendar. You get notifications on your phone.”

“Would it make you feel better if I admitted to turning them off?” She was neurotic and as my PA, I appreciated that. The company we worked with appreciated it too. “You had time scheduled in for when I could take a five-minute break some days, woman. I think I recall one of them recommending that I take a piss.”

She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to give me a patronizing look. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wrote ‘go to the bathroom if you want.’ I wouldn’t have put ‘piss.’”

“You realize—”

“I realize that I’m being anal about your schedule.” She held up both hands. “In my defense, though, you made it known you needed that. I was being a good friend and a damn good employee. If you had any other PA on your payroll…”

She stopped herself from carrying on. I would have let her, too, because Mikka on a tirade was a sight to see. She didn’t get flustered easily and she let a lot of shit roll off her back. But when something wiggled its way under her armor, she was like a bull that had seen red. She targeted and plowed through the problem effectively and efficiently.

“I’m not going to go on and on. You know I kick ass.” Her ego was justified, and she damn well knew it. “I’m irritated that you held up my evening for nothing, okay? If I was just your PA, fine, but that’s not what you do to your friend.”

I rubbed my forehead and tried to burn off some anxiety by letting my leg jump up and down under the table. Mikka didn’t usually confront me about my actions, so her doing it now meant it was serious. Either she felt—or someone had talked about—my neglect of my schedule and job.

She cleared her throat and it was like she was clearing away the fear of blurting out what she asked next. “How high are you, Jaydon?”

I reared back. Mikka was my girl, the one who stood by me, the one who would never accuse me even when the industry had. She’d worked to spin story after story. She knew better than anyone that my drug habit was recreational, a fun twist on a night. Nothing more.

“Are you serious?”

She grabbed my wrist and turned it upward where she dug a finger in to feel my pulse. “You’re sweating and it’s cold in here. Your heart’s going a mile a minute. And the dead giveaway—you have powder on your nose.”

I yanked my wrist away to wipe my hand across it. “You let me sit this whole time with powder on my nose?”

“No. There’s nothing there, but that’s a great indicator.”

If it had been anyone else, I would have got up and left. The girl was one of my only true friends in the large city though. I knew I owed her an explanation or an attempt at one.

“I’m sorry I missed our meeting, okay?” I winced when I looked at her and saw real frustration in her dark cat-like eyes. Mikka barreled through some of the most irritating situations and she didn’t complain, didn’t appear flustered, and didn’t show discomfort.

“I need you to commit, Jay. If you can’t, then let me know and let me find someone who will. I’ve made a name for myself. It means a lot to me.” Her words came out barely above a whisper. As our waitress dropped our drinks off, I suddenly felt wrong downing mine.

Commitment wasn’t something I did well. It wasn’t something I contemplated. I was committed to my lifestyle and that was to not commit, to have fun, to live fast.

I downed the drink we were both staring at and then I eyed hers. “Bottom’s up, babe. I’ll talk business with you in a day or two.”

Her fingers went to the glass. She held them there so long without moving them that little drops of condensation collected at her fingertips. “That’ll be a hell of a day, Jay.”

I leaned in close to her and smiled, “Then, let’s make tonight a hell of one too.”

She tipped the drink back and stared at me as she took the whole thing down.

I whooped at her sudden resolve to finish it. “Time to have fun.” I signaled for another round of drinks and added shots to it.

She downed those along with me too.

By that time, we’d gained a bit of a crowd with my liveliness. I stood on the table reciting some of my lines from a movie that had just been released. Mikka stared up at me, giggling along with the others. The tension in her shoulders had subsided and I knew she’d let go of our little tiff.

Laughter was the best form of medicine and the idea was to forget the troubles throughout the day, to get lost in the fun, to move away from the problems that crept into our minds so easily. Up on that table, acting out lines, I saw bright white smiles on everyone’s faces. I saw fun rolling through everyone, and I felt alive.

Mikka rocked to the music in the bubblegum pink sweater that matched her glossy lips. Her hips rotated to the beat and her dark hair swayed in the flashing lights. As she let go of her worries, she became the most intoxicating woman in the city. I swear at least ten guys flocked to her and I had to warn off each of them by explaining over and over she had a boyfriend.

“She’s got a man at home. Back off.” I stood in the way of another’s path of pursuing her.

“You cockblocking me for another dude?” The guy played with his gold chain and curled his lip at me in confusion.

“Yup. Dougie would do the same for me.” I scratched the scruff on my jaw and then cracked my neck. I was lying. Dougie wouldn’t do shit for me or anyone else for that matter. Her boyfriend was a selfish prick.

“My man. You’re a good dude. I’d have hit that the second she came out without her man.” He shrugged and backed away.

I bit the inside of my cheek and turned to take another shot at the bar. I didn’t warn off the redhead who ambled back over soon after. I needed someone to distract me.

We all danced, we all partied, and we hit the alcohol hard.

Mikka was solid like that. When she committed, you knew she wasn’t going to let you down. She would exceed expectations every single time. Even if it was with spending a night out.

A song came on and she squealed before rolling her hips to the beat. I found myself behind her as another guy tried to swoop in. I rolled my hips with hers, held her closer than I normally would have. And she didn’t move away. She dropped low in those high heels and brought herself back up as she giggled at her antics.

We ended up in the corner of VIP, laughing uncontrollably at the fact that I was trying to shake the redhead that had been following me around all night. I’d thought she’d be able to distract me from Mikka, but no one could hold a candle to her flame.

“You’re supposed to help me get rid of the groupies, Mikka.” I chuckled and leaned against the wall as she collapsed into another fit of giggles right next to me.

“Oh, please. Half the time you want me to be your wingwoman. And, honestly, I can’t.” She sucked in a breath, laughed again, and then tried to get control of herself. “She’s on you like white on rice. I promise I know what that looks like.”

She cracked up again and I tipped her chin up to get a look at the girl that never let loose with me. “You’re special. Not because you can make a joke about who you are but because you know who you are. This place is filled with so many who don’t. God, why don’t we do this more?” I sighed.

“Because we can’t party every day, Jay. It’s unhealthy.”

She said it like she wanted to get a point across, but my body wanted to get a point across to her too. Before I could stop myself, I caged her into the corner. “Do I look unhealthy to you?”

The question was bait. I didn’t expect that she would take it though. Dougie, our friendship, and our jobs had always stopped her.

She looked up at me, something new in her eyes as she let them roam down my body and back up again.

For the first time, I saw what I’d had for her since the moment I’d laid eyes on her.

Hunger.

Need.

“Little one, you aren’t answering.” I let the words roll out even though I shouldn’t have. Standing over her, though, I could smell her sweet lip gloss and see down her shirt. I could imagine what she’d feel like under me and, with her looking up at me, I got a vision of one sexual fantasy I’d had.

She shut her eyes before she answered. “I’m assessing our situation.”

“Did you come up with a good assessment?”

“Well, you look drunk and high. I’m definitely drunk and we have business to talk in the morning. So, is that good or bad?”

“The blush on your cheeks and right here”—I brushed the top of her cleavage—“tells me your assessment went a different direction.”

“Jay, we’re good friends.”

“Is that all that’s stopping you? Because if that’s it, I’ll remedy that right now.” I growled in her ear.

She wanted more; I could practically feel her vibrating under me for more. When she whispered, “How?” I almost took what I wanted right then.

“Want me to show or want me to tell?”

“Oh, God. It doesn’t matter.” She practically moaned. “There’s Dougie.”

I hung my head and took a deep breath. I pulled back. I might hate him, but Dougie was right for her. Dougie made her happy and she deserved it.

“Not that Dougie seems to care what I’m doing.” She sighed and then looked up as if she was holding back tears from spilling over.

“What’s that mean? Is that what’s been wrong with you?”

“Other than you standing me up?”

“Fuck me, woman. I’m sorry, okay?” I sighed and dropped my hands from the wall, giving her some space. “You told me something was wrong. Tell me what it is.”

“It’s nothing. We’ll get through it. I’ll make sure we do. We aren’t clicking like we’re supposed to.” She combed her fingers through her dark hair, and I tried not to imagine how soft it would feel gripping it. “He thinks I work too much; I think he doesn’t work enough. He wanted me to stay home tonight and I was going to.”

I nodded, not giving a shit. I hated her boyfriend like most everyone who knew him. He was riding her coattails and they were getting tired. I just couldn’t tell her that. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Will we?” She questioned and then lowered her voice. “I even dressed in lingerie for him earlier today, Jay.”

I tilted my head. Mikka and I didn’t ever discuss that much of her life, probably because I avoided it like the damn plague. I didn’t need to think about her like that. I didn’t want to. Not anymore. Not after she put me in the strict friend zone.

She rubbed a palm over her face. “I know, TMI. TMI. TMI. But I’m just drunk enough to admit how embarrassing it is to dress up for your boyfriend only for him to laugh at your attempt. He laughed and said I better just get the work clothes back on and go. He was already playing videogames.”

“He passed on you in lingerie?”

She shrugged like it was nothing, but I wanted to immediately punch her boyfriend in the face. “Are you still wearing the lingerie under that sweater?”

“Are you kidding me?” She rolled her eyes at me, but the smirk made it worth it.

“Meek, sending you on your way with a guilt trip instead of sleeping with you is pretty messed up.”

“Right?” She practically screamed and waved her hand in front of me. “I can’t believe I always fall for it too. Every single time. And as I’m walking out the door, he grumbles for me to have fun at my joke of a job. Although, in his defense, this is a joke of a job right now. I’m sitting here drinking my body weight…”

“Oh, cut the shit.” I ground out. “He’s being a dick. The guilt trip only goes so far. He could have fucked you sideways and had a good night. He wanted to have a bad one instead and we both know it.”

She smiled and rubbed my shoulder. “Thank you for that.”

“For what?”

“For being a good friend even while high and drunk and after ditching me earlier.”

The problem with Mikka and me, I wasn’t just her friend. She didn’t get that. I was her actor, I was her sounding board, I was her go to.

And she was mine. She was the tool I used for everything in LA. She got me movie deals, she got me out of sticky situations, she had even helped me bed one or two girls on the rare occasion that I needed her to talk me up.

She did everything for me.

She was my path, my avenue, my road to hell and back.

And in that moment as I listened to her bitch about her boyfriend and as I looked at everything I wanted in front of me that I couldn’t have, I felt the wrecking ball of pain and jealousy crash right into me.

So, I used her as my go to again. This time though it was to deliver my own self destruction.

I took what I’d wanted for a long time.

I grabbed her small waist, pulled her up against my chest, my abs, my dick. I plastered her to me.

And then I kissed her.

I tasted every inch of her mouth, sucked on her bottom lip, and took my time brushing my tongue over hers. It was intentional the way I ran my fingers over her hips like I was memorizing her. I knew this would be the first and last time she’d let me take what wasn’t mine.

She gasped and then she melted into me like we fit together, like she was made for me and I was made for her.

The world spun faster, the music beat even louder, but the light faded. Everything went black and I knew that wasn’t the cocaine or the alcohol. That was my pebble: solid, bold, and soul-crushing, pushing away everything else in my life and making it crystal clear who was the only one worthy of standing before me.

Then she shoved me away. “What in the ever-living fuck are you doing, Jaydon?” She yelled at me, fear in her eyes. Fear of having felt what I just did or fear of having to deal with my shit in the morning?

“I’m tasting you. I should have done it a long time ago.”

“You’re high. You’re so freaking high, a dog could be kissing you and you wouldn’t know the difference. Me, I’ll remember it all in the morning and have to clean up the damn mess.” She shoved me back farther, harder with fury in her eyes.

“This isn’t a mess; this is what it’s supposed to be. Me and you, Little Pebble.”

A look of confusion and then devastation marred her features. “I’m with Dougie, Jay. And you’re high.” She sighed and scanned the area to find her book bag. She checked the zippers and then hugged it to her as if it was a good barrier between us. “I love you and that’s why I’m going to tell you this. Don’t throw your career away. You keep doing this, you will. You’ll end up doing something really stupid and ruin your reputation. You think the executives aren’t keeping tabs on you? You think your audience will take you seriously if you don’t show anyone how deep you are beyond this lifestyle?”

Her words pelted into me like bullets. “What the hell are you saying?”

“You need to change something. This partying has to stop. I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever you need.”

Her hand went to my arm and then she snapped it back because I’m sure she felt the electricity between us like I did. “But you need to stop. Stop the cocaine.” She blurted out the word like it was acid in her mouth.

She ducked under my arm and stalked away from me, heels clicking as they always did. I started to follow her and then turned back, shaking my head, trying to shake the fog of the drugs from my mind. “Fuck!” I screamed and pulled at my hair. The woman had to be messing with me, but she never messed around with words like that.

Something formed deep in the pit of my stomach; it was heavy and solid, like a boulder crushing my life underneath it. I’d pushed her and she’d responded.

Maybe I wanted it, maybe it was my cry for help. Surrounded by everyone that admired me but no one that loved me, I hammered the last nail into my coffin. I let the night spiral, I let the drain I’d been circling swallow me up.

I could blame it on the events but that wasn’t it.

Drugs, my habit and my friend, the real thing I’d been close to for the last year were to blame. I wouldn’t know until a few weeks later that my friend, the white, white powder was really the enemy. And addiction was the fear of the unknown without it.

I remember getting into the bathroom with the redhead. I remember snorting two more lines off her chest. I remember more shots.

I don’t remember much after that.