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Authors: J. Kent Messum
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challenge, but Felix struck him anyway, landing an awkward downward punch to the forehead as he fell on the man. Stunned, Tal wrapped his limbs around Felix’s body and locked him up. They rolled on the beach, a writhing tangle of black and brown. Felix roared, trying to find purchase for another strike.
“Think you can talk to me like that, you filthy half-breed?”
Tal’s arm slipped and Felix managed another swing, but missed his mark, planting a fist into the sand beside Tal’s head.
“Nigger?” Felix was saying. “
Nigger?
I’ll show you—”
Felix saw the head butt coming, turning his face away just as Tal’s forehead crashed into his cheek and blossomed heat there. It probably hurt Tal more, but it still stung Felix like a bitch, spiking his anger up to rage.
“Oh, you’re dead for real now, man!”
Nash and Ginger reached around Felix and grabbed an arm each, using all their strength to pull him off Tal and drag him back. Kenny and Maria tried to assist, but managed only to get in the way.
“Jesus, Felix!” Ginger yelled. “Fucking stop!”
Nash backed her. “Quit fighting already.”
Felix fought off their grip and they dropped him on his back. He was quick to get to his feet, poised for another fight. Although his expression said he’d take them all on if he had to, he refrained from doing so.
“Touch me again and you’ll be the ones on the receiving end of this,” Felix warned, raising a fist. “Mark my words.”
Nash and Ginger stepped back, hands raised, not wanting a fight. Tal lay on the sand, breathing hard, staring at the sky with watery, bloodshot eyes. He didn’t care if Felix came back for another round. He figured the bruiser couldn’t hurt him any more than what was wringing and stabbing his insides.
“The guy is going through withdrawal, dude!” Nash yelled at Felix. “Look at him. He’s in agony. He don’t mean no harm. He barely knows what he’s saying or doing.”
Felix looked into Tal’s absentee eyes, saw the fever on his face, the sweat on his body, the reddening patches where scratching had raked his skin raw. All of it told him that Tal had already arrived in hell’s lobby and would be checking in soon enough. Everyone would be accommodated sooner or later, no exceptions, no escape. The reality of it was starting to erode everyone’s composure.
“Had enough?” Felix asked. “Or do you want some more of the same?”
No response. Tal’s obliviousness to the threat of attack stopped Felix from launching one. There was an understanding. He’d been in Tal’s shoes before, desperate for dope and unable to get fixed. Felix didn’t feel pity, but he was struck with anxiety: worry over his own worsening condition that was simply Tal’s on a time delay. Ginger stepped forward and laid a hand on Felix’s shoulder, supporting his fears.
“Tal’s got a head start on the rest of us. I’d say he’s in deeper by a day or so.”
“Whatever,” Felix said. “That still doesn’t give him the right to—”
“No, it doesn’t, you’re right, Felix. All I’m saying is that the withdrawal is a reason, not an excuse, for his bullshit. Let’s see how mild mannered you are in twelve to twenty-four hours.”
Nash grabbed a bottle of water from the box and knelt beside Tal, extending it to the man’s unmoving hand. Tal didn’t grab for it.
“Tal, you okay?”
Tal’s throat bucked before answering. “Oh, yeah, I’m solid gold. Twenty-four fucking carats, man.”
Ginger shored up beside Nash, kneeling so she could lay the back of her hand on the hot skin of Tal’s forehead. She felt the lump delivered by Felix’s blow.
“How bad you got it, man?”
“You been through it before, honey?” Tal asked, a tear escaping the corner of his eye and rolling to his earlobe. “Gone cold turkey?”
“I’ve tried to kick the habit a few times, yeah.”
“And how’d that make you feel?”
Ginger swallowed hard. “Like a sack of smashed
“Think you can talk to me like that, you filthy half-breed?”
Tal’s arm slipped and Felix managed another swing, but missed his mark, planting a fist into the sand beside Tal’s head.
“Nigger?” Felix was saying. “
Nigger?
I’ll show you—”
Felix saw the head butt coming, turning his face away just as Tal’s forehead crashed into his cheek and blossomed heat there. It probably hurt Tal more, but it still stung Felix like a bitch, spiking his anger up to rage.
“Oh, you’re dead for real now, man!”
Nash and Ginger reached around Felix and grabbed an arm each, using all their strength to pull him off Tal and drag him back. Kenny and Maria tried to assist, but managed only to get in the way.
“Jesus, Felix!” Ginger yelled. “Fucking stop!”
Nash backed her. “Quit fighting already.”
Felix fought off their grip and they dropped him on his back. He was quick to get to his feet, poised for another fight. Although his expression said he’d take them all on if he had to, he refrained from doing so.
“Touch me again and you’ll be the ones on the receiving end of this,” Felix warned, raising a fist. “Mark my words.”
Nash and Ginger stepped back, hands raised, not wanting a fight. Tal lay on the sand, breathing hard, staring at the sky with watery, bloodshot eyes. He didn’t care if Felix came back for another round. He figured the bruiser couldn’t hurt him any more than what was wringing and stabbing his insides.
“The guy is going through withdrawal, dude!” Nash yelled at Felix. “Look at him. He’s in agony. He don’t mean no harm. He barely knows what he’s saying or doing.”
Felix looked into Tal’s absentee eyes, saw the fever on his face, the sweat on his body, the reddening patches where scratching had raked his skin raw. All of it told him that Tal had already arrived in hell’s lobby and would be checking in soon enough. Everyone would be accommodated sooner or later, no exceptions, no escape. The reality of it was starting to erode everyone’s composure.
“Had enough?” Felix asked. “Or do you want some more of the same?”
No response. Tal’s obliviousness to the threat of attack stopped Felix from launching one. There was an understanding. He’d been in Tal’s shoes before, desperate for dope and unable to get fixed. Felix didn’t feel pity, but he was struck with anxiety: worry over his own worsening condition that was simply Tal’s on a time delay. Ginger stepped forward and laid a hand on Felix’s shoulder, supporting his fears.
“Tal’s got a head start on the rest of us. I’d say he’s in deeper by a day or so.”
“Whatever,” Felix said. “That still doesn’t give him the right to—”
“No, it doesn’t, you’re right, Felix. All I’m saying is that the withdrawal is a reason, not an excuse, for his bullshit. Let’s see how mild mannered you are in twelve to twenty-four hours.”
Nash grabbed a bottle of water from the box and knelt beside Tal, extending it to the man’s unmoving hand. Tal didn’t grab for it.
“Tal, you okay?”
Tal’s throat bucked before answering. “Oh, yeah, I’m solid gold. Twenty-four fucking carats, man.”
Ginger shored up beside Nash, kneeling so she could lay the back of her hand on the hot skin of Tal’s forehead. She felt the lump delivered by Felix’s blow.
“How bad you got it, man?”
“You been through it before, honey?” Tal asked, a tear escaping the corner of his eye and rolling to his earlobe. “Gone cold turkey?”
“I’ve tried to kick the habit a few times, yeah.”
“And how’d that make you feel?”
Ginger swallowed hard. “Like a sack of smashed
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