BANGERZ (2014)

18. Fighter

The next couple weeks are, as Drake would say it, somewhere between psychotic and iconic; somewhere between "I want it" and "I got it"; somewhere between I'm sober and I'm lifted; somewhere between a mister and commitment.

But I stay down.

First of all, I fall into a fun, thrillingly new schedule. It's also more normal - so normal that I start realizing how weird and unhealthy my old routine was, and more aware of everyone else's.

For example: my friends are so exciting and different and have interesting lives and schedules that I learn more about every day. Miley tells us hilarious stories about her siblings and babysitting troubles (Noah sounds adorable). She insists that her family, the Rays, are the present-day Beverly Hillbillies. Za is into mechanics and skateboarding, working on vintage cars like his Mustang and perfecting tricks on rails and benches in the streets when we hang out in over the weekend. Besides the fact that he likes doing this stuff he says the ladies love a guy who knows cars and can skate; Jason's the same way so I kind of have to agree. Khalil hits up the studio at night and lays down some tracks that he can't wait to spin at the next party. Which might be soon, with all the hookups our slickster Kalfani has. He even secures our dibs on a pot shipment so huge that we have an extra bag to roll after the delivery. That happens on a Tuesday night after Jason picks me up from work and I get so faded he waits an extra hour before taking me home to Danny.

Oh, Jason. And Danny. I can't help but think about them at the same time because, well... they're my boyfriend and my brother. When one is a bad boy/gangster in training/son of a gun (see what I did there?) and the other is a very smart, slightly overprotective EMT who knows how to do more than just the Heimlech, my thoughts about them definitely cross paths.

But ironically, Danny and Jason themselves don't cross paths much. Danny's busy alternating between day and night shifts at the hospital but always gives himself time to rest, see Anna, and keep up with me (which means lecturing me about juggling a job, school, and responsibilities at home but also praising me on my hard work, good grades, and the awesome dinners I've been making "just like Mom used to".) He actually hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, besides the fact that I go out all the time, dress like a skater who "a denim and plaid company threw up on" - his words, not mine - and Jason is around frequently to pick me up and drop me off from work and school. Naturally Danny raises his eyebrows at this, but when I retort that he's my boyfriend and he's supposed to do that, he hoots at my feistiness and agrees.

Jason's occupied too, keeping up with the dangerous and exciting life he had before he met me. Being the leader of the Bizzle Gang definitely has its perks - people either fear him, respect him, envy him, or all of the above - and its downfalls - the pressure, danger, and targets - but he handles it all with nonchalant confidence.

Maybe it's the comfort of his routine. When he takes me to work he always takes his evening dose of meds, drops me off, and either stays or meets with contacts and handles business until I'm done. This sounds like a lot of driving that he's doing for me, and after a few days I mention it in a conversation that goes something like this:

Jason, do you need gas money or something? You're driving me around a lot and I feel kinda mooch.

You're not giving me money for doing you a service. That's prostitution.

You'd be a sexy prostitute. If I saw you walking down the street I'd stop for you.

That's what I did for you, baby girl, remember? On your second day at North Shore. Guess that makes me the pimp. Call me Sir Bizzle.

So I'm one of your customers.

You're my only customer.

This kind of talk is what thrills me, excites me, attracts me. I still can't believe he wants me to be his like I want him to be mine. If anyone else doesn't believe it he definitely shows it, though still in his sultry, inconspicuous way. He holds my hand at school, tugging and pulling me so that I stay by his side when we walk. He whispers in my ear and holds me around the waist or under his arm when we're out on business like I'm the only one that matters. He kisses me almost every day, either taking me by surprise with his spontaneity or else commanding me with his sudden grip on me. That never gets old. And I like it.