Speakeasy (True North #5)(69)

Jude Nickel walks into the room and sits down on the couch beside me. “Hey, Pooh Bear. How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy. Grumpy. Stupid.”

He chuckles. “That sounds like three of the seven dwarfs. Who are you leaving out? Sneezy and Happy…”

“Dopey?”

We stare at each other, trying to think of another one. “Horny?” Jude suggests and then we burst out laughing.

I miss Jude. Since he works so many hours at the body shop in Montpelier, I don’t see much of him anymore. He’s one of my sober buddies. I call him Eeyore, because he used to be so grim about life. But somehow we’ve flip-flopped. He’s Mr. Smiley, happily married to the love of his life. And I’m the hot mess.

“This is for you,” Jude says, handing me a bright red gift bag.

I peek inside, and then let out a squeak of happiness. It’s like a window into my needs. There’s a full-sized bag of Twizzlers and several glossy magazines. “Thank you!”

“I’d love to take credit. But these aren’t from me.”

“Who, then?”

“Alec Rossi.” Jude smirks.

“Oh, wow. Did you tell him my secret weaknesses?” Because this gift is seriously on point.

“Nope. But somebody must have tipped him off. I ran into him on my lunch break and said I was coming to see you later. So he gave me the bag to pass to you.”

“Thanks,” I say again.

Jude’s eyes dance. “So.”

“So.”

“Alec Rossi, huh? What happened to ‘I can really only see myself with a woman’?”

“You shut up.”

He laughs again.

“I don’t even know how it happened. And I do still see myself with a woman. I thought I did, anyway. He confuses me.”

“Because he doesn’t have boobs?”

“No. Because I can’t believe he’s serious about me.”

Jude points at the bag of Twizzlers. “Are you going to open those, or just clutch them to your chest?”

He makes a good point. But I have trouble opening the bag because I don’t have the use of my right hand.

Jude grabs it from me and opens the top. When he had a broken arm I’m sure I did the same thing for him more than once.

In silence, we munch a couple of pieces of licorice each, and watch the characters of a soap opera fight with one another. But my mind is elsewhere. “I can’t believe I totaled my car. And I did it sober.”

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Jude chuckles. “I already put out a couple of feelers with mechanics I know. We’ll find you something at a good price.”

“Really?” I stare at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Can I ask you something? Do you still have drug cravings?”

“Yeah, but they’re different now.” Jude shoves a Twizzler in his mouth.

“How so?”

He chews, thinking. “When I was using, my brain and my body were on the same page about cravings. But now that connection is broken. Sometimes I feel itchy for a hit, but my brain says, ‘No way, stupid.’ Or maybe I’ll see something I used to associate with getting high, but I don’t feel as triggered because my body isn’t as needy.”

“Because you’re out of practice?”

“Yeah. I still think about it every day, but it’s not as sharp because I never reward it.”

“But you still want to.”

“Sure. But now there are things I want more than drugs. Like not dying.”

“Good one.”

“Resisting has gotten a whole lot easier lately—there’s been a spike in OD deaths due to fentanyl flooding the supply.”

“Alec’s bartender OD’d at work. They brought him back with Narcan.”

“See? That’s why I only abuse Twizzlers now.”

I reach into the bag. “I feel like Alec doesn’t really know what it means to be an alcoholic. If he could see into my soul, he wouldn’t want me anymore. If he says he loves me, I’m thinking, ‘Obviously I’ve fooled him.’”

Jude just shrugs. “Isn’t that everybody, though? Who walks around every day feeling perfectly worthy of love?”

“Everyone else in my family?” I hazard.

“No way,” Jude says, swatting this idea away with a wave of his tattooed arm. “You’re just gun shy, Pooh Bear. If you like this guy, why hold back? What does your gut say?”

My gut harbors the suspicion that there’s something a little too needy about me, and it drives people away. And if I could just stay unattached, I wouldn’t have so much drama.

But I am attached to Alec. Even if I don’t want to be.

“He’s pretty dreamy,” I admit.

Jude puts his arm around me. “Sounds like you already have your answer.”





Later, when Jude leaves, I take out my phone. I pull up the most-used profile and change the name from Selena to Alec. This feels momentous for some reason.

Sorry, Selena. It’s looking like we weren’t meant to be after all.

Then I shoot him a text. Thank you for the treats. I don’t know who your informant is but I love Twizzlers and trashy magazines. Also, texting with my left hand stinks.