Cherry Coloured - Alex Turner

27. Work of Fiction

  Soft peaches and violets streaked across the westerly horizon with indigo, navy blue and black as thick as melted tar crashing and conquering the fading summer sky. Something about the birdsong and the motors of passing cars and the faint chatter of paired dog walkers on the street below orchestrated a symphony that rocked Maeve's ears like a ballad constructed by time. The rustling trees in the evening wind melted together to create the chords of synthesisers grazing over the hills and through her open window up her back and into her spine. The crescendo of silence blared like a siren as she drew a line of blush coloured gloss along her lips.

  Inside, the apartment was cool, outside the temperature was just below a mild heat that teased to drop further with the coming of night. Regardless, small dots of sweat lined Maeve's hairline like rhinestones the size of fine glitter. Her eyes intended on scrutiny each time they met the mirror's image and all Maeve could do was force herself into ignoring every shred of doubt that leaked into her mind. It wasn't like she didn't look beautiful, in fact even she admitted internally that she looked better than normal, instead it was something internal shifting around her gears.

  There was a click when she set her lipgloss down onto the sink edge and a faint buzz that vibrated the ceramic. Maeve glanced down at the message lighting up her screen and smiled. Alex was excited and on his way.

  Unable to resist, she dug out the small ziplock bag in her purse and tipped out the last of its fine white contents. Carefully, with an expert eye she was embarrassed to have, she used a card to cut up two thin lines and pulled out a small tube she had hidden beside her notes.

  A moment of hesitation passed once she'd inhaled the first line and was left pinching her nose and staring down at the second one. The empty bag was still on top of her phone. It scared her. Save it for work, she said to herself and then immediately bent back down and snorted up the other line with one swift movement. Fucking idiot, she cussed internally, head tossed back and throat searing with the familiar flavour.

  She waited a moment for a nosebleed that didn't come and then brushed her teeth and abandoned her post. "Chuckie?" she called out as she walked down the hall with her phone and bag in hand. "You know if Angus is back in town yet?"

  "Not that I've heard," Chuck responded, he was laying in his bed with his phone in his hand. "Why?"

  "I've run out," Maeve pouted, leaning against the doorway of Chuck's room.

  "Just grab some off Oscar," Chuck suggested.

  Maeve shook her head, "can't afford his shit. I told you, They're reducing our cut of our own money. Besides, Oscar overcharges and his stuff does fuck all."

  "There's nowt I can do Swans," Chuck shrugged, "Gus said he's back in a week."

  "It only takes a day for me to turn into a cunt," Maeve said, chewing the edge of her thumbnail. "Do you know anyone else?" Chuck looked at her boredly. "Please?"

  "I'll ask around all reyt?" he gave in. "Shouldn't you be on yer date? Why are you getting high?"

  "Al's on his way. I'm not getting high," Maeve responded. Then, tartly, "it's just for confidence."

  "He's yer boyfriend," Chuck stated.

  "Yeah. Still. I'm not getting high," Maeve dismissed. The only person she was convincing was herself. "I'm not taking it to get high. Whatever. I don't do it every time I see him, I promise."

  "Does he know?"

  Maeve swallowed and shook her head with her teeth clamped on her bottom lip. "I can't ever find the right time to tell him, I am going to though. Cause I wanna stop," she could just never see herself getting better for as long as she worked. That job brought out the worst in her and every time she'd catch herself using it at a time that wasn't in preparation for work she would realise just how bad she was getting and it scared her to the point of nausea.