Now
Obsession: a state in which someone thinks about someone or something constantly or frequently especially in a way that is not normal.
Being away from her was a physical pain. She was my drug and I was addicted. I did not want to share her with anyone; I also did not want to cause her pain. She was avoiding me and I will not stand for it. I tried calling her phone again, pacing back and forth before her door. I had banged on her door over and over again and got no response. Her phone was going directly to voice mail. Images of her lying lifeless in a tub with pills scattered all over the floor flashed before my eyes, it made my stomach sick and made me even more frantic.
My mother had committed suicide when I was fourteen. I had found her lifeless body submerge in her bath tub, an empty pill bottle and a broken wine glass on the floor. The image would forever be imprinted on my mind. I dug the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. I could not stand to see the image of Paige like that. I leaned my head against the door trying to pick up any movements behind it.
"Paige, if you are inside please just make a sound that way I can know you are alive." I pleaded.
The apartment door next to hers opened. A middle aged man stood at the door, he gave me a tired look. "No one is inside the apartment; she left yesterday and I do not think she came back. So please stop banging on her door, you sound pitiful."
I clenched my fists; I was a breath away from beating his face in. "What time did she leave?"
He shrugged. "I heard her leave early yesterday morning, like always."
"Are you sure you did not hear her come back."
"What am I? The neighbourhood watch? I don't know, just stop pounding on the door and hounding like a dog." He said a disgruntled look on his face. He stepped back into his apartment and closed the door.
I kicked Paige's apartment door angrily and it rattled. I leaned my back against the door, then slide down it and sat on the floor. I had other important things to do, but I had no desire to do anything, not when Paige was missing. My mind would never focus. I needed to see her alive and breathing like I needed air.
Why did Sarah have to get in my way? This was all her fault. My one night mistake with Sarah came back to bite me in the ass. If only I had met Paige first. Sarah had threatened to tell Paige everything; she and her inquisitive mind, sticking her nose into where it did not belong. I could not allow her to mess everything up. I could not lose Paige; I could not help thinking that this was all a part of Sarah's plans. Get killed to draw a ridge between Paige and me. Even in death she haunted me.
A female cleared her throat and I looked up instantly. She seemed to be in her late forties; she wore blue skinny jeans, a red blazer over a cotton blouse and a brown leather bag over her shoulder. Her makeup was well done, her lips were rose red, her hair shoulder length and bouncy, her eyes dark and questioning. I got to my feet; she seemed to be about two inches shorter than me.
"Hi." A sweet smile replaced her questioning stare. "Are you ok?"
"Yes. I was just waiting for my friend to come back."
"Who is your friend?" her brows furrowed in concern.
"The girls that live here."
"Sarah and Paige?"
"Yes." My curiosity got the best of me. Was this Paige's mother? They had never met before. "My Name is Adam, Paige is my girlfriend."
She looked at me surprised, so it was Paige's mom.
"You are the boy she has been keeping a secret. I am Leah Bernard, Paige's Mother." She put her hand out to me and I shook it.
"Do you know where my daughter is? I have been trying to call her since yesterday and I haven't been getting her and she did not come to the apartment last night." Leah took a key from her bag and pushed it into the lock. She then turned to me. "Was she with you last night?"
I shook my head. "No Mam, I have been trying to call her too, she has been ignoring me."
Leah let out a depressing sigh, "Sarah's death hit her hard. I wish I could make it all better for her. Try to let her understand that it is ok to grieve, but Paige is a girl that bottles things up, and it is devastating when she blows. I don't want that to happen to her. If she contacts you tell her that I am at her apartment and she needs to come home." She turned the key and opened the door.
I tried to follow her in but she blocked my entrance. "What are you doing?"
"I want to wait and see if she will come back." I said as a means of explaining my impudent behaviour.
She looked at me for a moment, seeming to contemplate her decision. "Don't you think she would go to your dorm, or wherever you live? Considering that her best friend just died, maybe she does not want to be here."
I never thought of that. "It's a possibility."
"How long have you been dating my daughter?" Her eyes were curious.
Hadn't Paige told her anything about me? "Nearly two years."
"And she never told us anything about you, classic Paige." She shook her head disappointingly. "Is the relationship serious?"
"I should think so; we've been dating for over a year."
"You seem like a good person Adam and Dr Bernard and I would love to have you over for dinner, just to get to know you more. Hopefully when this tragedy is all sorted through and everyone is in a better space."
I nodded my head. "That would be great."
"When you get home, if she is at your place, tell her I am here. I really wish we had met at a better time." She said before she closed the door.
***
She was not at my apartment. I settled down on my brown, musky couch with a glass of vodka. I wanted to stop worrying about her, because it made me feel powerless. I turned on my small LG flat screen TV. The missing report came on. Five girls have gone missing again. It was like every week another person went missing.
There was a persistent knock on my door. I jumped up off my couch and turned off the TV, hoping it was Paige. I dragged the door open to see Marcus standing there his hands in his pockets, a knapsack on his back.
Disappointment weighed heavy in my stomach, "What do you want?" I asked less than pleased to see him.
"Why aren't you at school?" he stepped pass me, walked over to my couch and dropped himself down on it, took up my unfinished glass of vodka and downed it. He then propped his feet up on my rustic iron glass topped coffee table.
"I don't feel like it."
"Great because we need to talk business."
"I am not in the mood."
"I do not care if you are in the mood. Demand is increasing since midterms are coming up, course works are due and people just need to release stress. The streets are begging for our product. Market is booming right now Adman and we need to increase production."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Let's be honest our little greenrooms aren't producing enough weed for the demand of the market. We need outside sources."
That had run across my mind a few times, but I always got to the conclusion that it would be too dangerous. Marcus, Clint and I had been planting weed in secret rooms in our apartment ever since the third semester of our first year.
We were business students with a knack for entrepreneurship. The business was actually paying for itself, our apartments and my tuition. I dropped students lone after my first year. The interest rate was just too high. Clint and Marcus did not need the money; they came from upper middle class families that could more than afford to give them all that they needed. I was in this business out of necessity. My father was absent from my life growing up, he neither support nor cared for me. After my mother killed herself I went to live with my aunt. She had four children of her own to care for, so finances were tight. I got an academic scholarship throughout high school and did odd jobs on the weekends. I was going for a football scholarship for University when it fell through at the last moment and I had to seek out student's loan.
I lived on Chancellor Hall for my first two semesters. Marcus and Clint had been my roommates. One day in a Business lecture Professor Deeds was lecturing on fortune 500 companies and how they started with little ideas, that bloomed into great business opportunities. Professor Deeds wanted us to come up with a business plan and build a portfolio.
We were in our dorm room bouncing ideas off of each other, when I jokingly suggested a viable marijuana business, with classy packaging, marketed as a recreational medicine. Marcus ran with the idea. The next day he came back to our dorm room with containers with little marijuana plants he claimed he got from the Jamaica Cannabis Institute research facilities. We never asked him how he got it from the facility.
We started the business out of our dorm room, but then we saw where it could be dangerous growing and dealing drugs on campus. We got an apartment together our third semester. In our second year we all got our own apartment in order to increase productions. Our main market was students from UWI and UTECH, on occasions we would hit up clubs and parties and get outside customers. The packaging, quality and marketing is what made our business boom. There were ready made rolled joints for those who wanted that. The paper used was of the finest quality. We had weed brownies; weed sweets; weed gums; and plain weed, transported in air locked bags to preserve freshness. The air locked bags used was our trade mark green bag with a burning phoenix, thus our product got the street name 'burning phoenix' or just 'phoenix'. We had also brought on board a few trust worthy chem. major's to assist in product quality.
"I think that is a good idea. Who are you thinking about?" I sat down on the couch next to him.
"Not who, what?" he had a glint of excitement in his eyes.
I raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
"We were thinking of using the Cannabis Institute facilities, they have a huge green house that is not being used. We could forge some papers and let it look like we are planting for research purposes. No one would think to bother us."
"Are you high?"
"Come on man, we think it's a great idea."
"Who is we?"
"Clint and some of the other guys. I would really like you to come on board."
"You are talking about fraud Marcus, we can't do fraud."
"Ok so what do you think of us taking some from the schools research facilities?"
I laughed. "You must be kidding me? They get audited frequently."
"Come on man, we can do this, we will be replenishing as soon as we reap. We won't even go over the legal amount required for medical purposes."
I rubbed my hands over my face. I can't believe I was actually considering this. "Don't you think it would be best we got some from the country? The best weed is grown there."
"While I agree with you, I think trafficking from that distance is dangerous. We can't take the risk of police catching us. While on the other hand we can use the school's facilities and hide behind legal but, fraudulent papers."
"I am not too inclined to commit fraud. What if we got someone to traffic the drugs to us? We won't get in contact with it until it is time to do quality check."
Marcus threw up is hand, annoyed. "Why are you being so stubborn, it's a great idea and you know it! You know it's best if we grow our own and cut out the middle man. I swear ever since you started sniffing miss prissy foot frock tail you have become a little wuss."
White hot rage burned inside me. I grabbed him by the throat and gave him a quick thump in the belly. "I am no wuss and don't you ever talk about her in that manner again!" I hissed at him.
Marcus looked scared and I knew I must have looked scary.
I released him and got to my feet. "I think it is time for you to leave. Do whatever ya'll want to do." I went to the door and open it.
Marcus got to his feet. "I am sorry man; I did not know you were that touchy about your girl."
"Yeah well now you know."
Marcus walked through the door and gave me a pleading look. "Just think about the idea."
I said nothing to him as I closed the door in his face.
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