MAGNETIC [H.S.]

36. maybe next week

By the time the sun came up in November, I was absolutely exhausted. My poor Cora had been doing absolutely everything she could think of to help me and to give me a restful home to come back to, but even she couldn't give me a restful mind.

There's a wicked irony in being a recovering addict and working in the drug business. I knew the risk that I was taking when I got clean, I knew the temptation that I'd be putting in front of myself on a regular basis. I knew that it would be painful and hard to do, but I also knew that my people had my back on this and that they would support me in whatever way that I needed.

The worst part about being a recovering addict who deals drugs wasn't even that I had to be around drugs all the time. That became second nature, easy to do because they were packaged and wrapped and not as tantalizing as watching them in use. No, the worst part about it is that you work with people who knew you when you were an addict. They know how much you loved the high, they know what we're willing to do for that feeling.

And they will use it against you.

My father, for instance, had me sit at a table for three hours last week with four perfectly cut lines of cocaine just inches from my face.

They were perfectly white until the blood from my nose started to drip on them.

September was an amazing month, full of family and light and the change of the season. We all had slacked on our responsibilities to my father, to our clients. By October, James was furious enough at Harry's rebellion, the whole lot of us blowing him off was just too much for him to take.

He became wildly suspicious, wouldn't stop calling my phone, and each voicemail he left was him threatening to send a team to watch us. I could not, and would not, risk my father finding out about Harry and Ash. He would destroy all of our lives.

So, I met with him. We met in Virginia, at a restaurant owned by one of our clients. We didn't bother with chit-chat, just got right into it. I wouldn't imagine that he'd waste his time simply asking what his only son has been up to.

"So Liam, you seem awfully desperate to keep me out of New York City. Why is that?" He drank his coffee slowly and never looked up from the menu.

"Yeah, Dad! Work has been really good, Cora is lovely, I'm doing so well, thank you for asking." That got me a glare and a tightened jaw. "I don't particularly want you in the city because I don't want you in my life. We have actual jobs and friends and people that we care about, and I don't want them tainted by this business. There's no need for it."

"You would think that by now you'd be smart enough to know not to air your weaknesses so freely." He had the nerve to laugh at me while he said it.

"Having people in my life that I care about shouldn't be a weakness when I'm talking to my father. Business is business and I do it well, but my life and this business do not co-exist for a reason."