Tijuana Burger Girl (A disturbing novel you shouldn't read)

Chapter 2: Drinking on the Come-Up

Sunday

For me, the MDMA high always kicks in the same way. About thirty to forty minutes into popping the pill, the come-up begins with this sense that something is happening—something subtle in a physiological sense that I can't put into words. This wonderful warmth blossoms in my core shortly after, then it radiates down my arms and legs. Soon after that, I'm overcome with that rare emotion I usually only experience during a manic phase or when I do molly—an elusive emotion that used to be abundant during my youth. Joy. With that joy comes this inner peace, energetic excitement, heightened senses, and waves of tingling pleasure that buzz across my being like my body is surrounded by electrostatically charged balloons—things that all happen to me during a bout of mania. The best part is that drinking on the come-up makes all of those drug effects way more intense.

Forty minutes in, the alcohol-enhanced euphoria and hypersensitivity have finally just hit me, and now I can't stop smiling. My body shivers with pleasure each time my white T-shirt brushes against my skin or whenever my jeans rub against my thighs or crotch. The breeze coming through the open balcony door tickles my face, neck, arms, and legs like hundreds of loving butterflies, and the briny ocean air blowing in smells saltier than ever before. The burst of energy keeps me pacing the Airbnb and, for the life of me, I can't stop touching everything I pass by. I can't resist the urge to caress the girls or rake my fingers through their hair the moment I'm close enough to poke them because my sense of touch is dialed up to twenty and everything feels amazing right now. Thankfully, they don't mind. Because they're used to this sort of molly-induced behavior from me, and they do the same thing whenever they're rolling.

The music that's been playing softly since we all woke up sounds so amazing right now that I have to turn it up. The moment the beat vibrates through my chest and bones, the stimulant effect of this drug compels me to close my eyes and dance around the living room. A few seconds into grooving like a stoned hippy, my heightened sense of hearing picks up the sound of the front door to the beach house opening through the loud music. I'm vibing too hard right now to open my eyes and check if someone is going out or if the girls are finally back with the food.

"Ummm," Vera Chambers, the lanky brunette hums. "Why is Alicia dancing like a maniac while feeling herself up like it's Saturday night at the club all over again?"

My eyes snap open and I twirl around to find her and Lacey sauntering towards the kitchen table, a brown bag that says Asada's in Vera's hand. "Yay! You're back!" I cheer, skipping over to the table, my unblinking eyes locked onto the food bag the entire time.

"Because she chugged two strong-ass margaritas and popped the last molly," Bailey replies to her through an exasperated sigh.

Vera snickers. "Wait... Are you serious?"

Staring at her all wide-eyed and smiley, I nod rapidly while caressing the Styrofoam burger container that I've just pulled out of the bag. "Is this one mine?" I ask in a slight slur.

Both of the girls that just walked in shrug.

"They didn't mark them or anything," says Lacey Gomez, the only Latina in our group. "Three of the burgers are the same, so your odds of picking the right one are pretty good."

Grinning, I open the box in my hand, revealing a juicy 5-ounce burger topped with lime mayo, Monterey Jack cheese, mushrooms, and the best damn guac I've ever tasted in the eight years I've been living in California. "Fuck yassssss!" I say, slowly lifting the burger to my mouth, moaning as I mindlessly grind my vagina against the rounded corner of the table that I've just bumped into. My sense of touch is so heightened that simply licking the hot, greasy patty feels amazing against my tongue. Upon licking my way to the top of the patty, my tongue slips underneath the bun and I lap up a glob of guac and lime mayo that's oozing over the edge. After savoring that gooey deliciousness for a moment, I take a massive bite out of the burger. "MMMM!" I moan, throwing my head back from both the glorious flavors and the pleasure of still bucking into the table's corner.

"Can you not dry-hump the table in front of us?" Bailey groans.

No lie, I was, like, five seconds away from orgasming, so it takes everything in me to stop grinding against the corner.

"Chica, you're a mess and a half," Lacey says to me, giggling and shaking her head.

"FFK YRMM!" is what I mumble to Lacey, my attempt at saying 'fuck you.' "NNN FFK YRMM TRR!" I mumble to Bailey. After dropping my burger back into the container, I pick up the Styrofoam box and then dance my way back to the living room, writhing my body sensually as though I'm trying to seduce an imaginary guy across the room from me.

The warm sea breeze blowing past me feels so incredible against my skin that I keep dancing past the couch and shimmy my way out onto the balcony like I'm being beckoned outside by a siren in the ocean. There's still so much meat and bread and toppings in my mouth right now from that first bite that, instead of taking another chomp out of the burger like I want to, I set the opened Styrofoam container on the patio table right in the sunlight so it'll stay warm while I struggle to chew up this first morsel. Despite being annoyed that it's taking forever to swallow this food, I savor every last flavor during the mastication process, chewing nice and slow as the juices and gooey guac tantalize my wriggling tongue before finally gulping down a bit of mashed beef and toppings. For some reason, though, the longer I chew that first massive bite, the less delicious the burger becomes, tasting nothing like it did the last few times I had it.

Is there something missing? That's what I wonder as I pick up the burger and lift the top bun. The guac looks perfect... The tomato and lettuce don't look old or anything. The mushrooms are cooked. The Monterey Jack cheese is there, looking nice and melted... The medium-well patty looks juicy... Maybe I've just been chewing so long that the flavor is gone... I have been chewing for, like, one whole song...

The instant I finally choke down the last bit, I open my mouth wide and immediately take another massive chomp out of it like a ravenous zombie.

Three chews in, the lack of flavor makes me stop abruptly and wriggle my tongue against the beef I'm mashing against the roof of my mouth, searching for something—anything to excite my tastebuds. What the eff... Now it tastes blander than the first bite... I set the burger in the box upside down, lifting off the bottom bun and setting it on the underside of the lid so I can see if there's something else off about the patty. The meat looks good... Looks seasoned... And the first bite did taste perfectly fine... That can only mean one thing... The molly is jacking up my taste buds already...

It takes, like, the entire next song for me to finally swallow that second bite, and no part of it tasted anything like it did when I ate this burger Friday and yesterday. Even with the molly making me feel super elated, I'm so disheartened by not being able to enjoy the food that I keep dancing in place while staring at the upside-down burger, the bottom bun of which is still sitting in the lid.

"Alicia, why are you staring at the burger and looking all pouty?" Bailey asks as she walks up beside me. "Your food tastes like shit on molly, doesn't it?"

Reluctantly, I nod.

"Want me to put it in the fridge for you?"

"Nah, I'm just taking my time. It's hard to swallow, that's all."

"Okie-Dokie!" she says, heading back inside.

When I twirl around, I spot a margarita that someone left on the coffee table. "Hmm." I wonder if I can taste that, I think, hurrying over to it. I grab it off the table like I need it to live, then I get to chugging. One gulp in, I'm hit with sour citrus notes and the burn of alcoholic agave. Of course I can still taste this, I think, gulping it down to about halfway.

"Alicia!" Payton shouts. "Stop drinking while you're rolling!"

I raise a hand in surrender while setting down the mostly empty glass. "Alright, alright! Chill. We literally drink more than this on molly all the time, so it's not like anything bad's gonna happen..."

"That's not what we're worried about," Payton speaks slowly as if I'm having trouble understanding her. "We're worried you'll still be effed up when it's time to leave."

"Oh yeah..." I mutter. "I forgot it's Sunday..."

"Uh-oh," Bailey grumbles, wincing at Payton. "She's already starting to forget shit..."

Snickering, I wave her off. "Pssh... No I'm not! I'm fine!"