CHAPTER 1 – Shay

My throat was dry, my hands were shaking, and I almost dropped my water glass when I tried to take a drink. Maybe it’s best if I just fold my hands in my lap. Does that look weird? What am I talking about? I look like a June Cleaver want to be in my sensible suit and fake pearls. This was a mistake; I should never have come. I can’t do this.

***

Step two: I believe that a Power greater than myself can restore my life and my sanity.

I’m a lunatic to think that she will ever forgive me. Shit, I fucked her sister’s husband for drugs. Self-loathing washed over me, and I wanted to get up—to run away from here. I don’t deserve to be in the same city, let alone the same room as her. I almost ruined her life. I sure as hell tried to.

***

Step three: I have made the decision to turn my will and life over to the care of God.

I have never been a religious person. My momma went to church when I was young, and she was always praying/cursing God for all of her mishaps. But what did I know about the big guy in the sky? He pretty much kept away from me and I sure as shit never invited him in. It was only in the darkest of moments when I was sitting in a county cell in my own urine that I finally asked if he was really there. If he cared about a meth whore like me because nobody else did. I had seen to that.

***

Step four: I have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.

My name is Shay Montgomery, I’m from a little city called Deepwater in Tennessee. I’m a methadone addict. I have stolen money from friends and family. I have had sex with men for drug money. I drove my best friend Mandy away and treated her like shit. To make matters worse, I slept with her sister’s husband Andrew—my dealer. If that wasn’t bad enough, he murdered their parents because they couldn’t pay what they owed him. I’m not sure I would have stopped using on my own. I was picked up nearly a year ago by the local police and served a little under a year for drug possession. I’m now clean and in a twelve-step program. This is my truth.

***

Step five: I have admitted to God, to myself and all other human beings the exact nature of my wrongs.

And now you know why I’m here. Sitting at a café in an ill-fitting suit that I picked up at the thrift store, with a set of fake pearls loaned to me by my roommate, Stacy. I met her at the bar that I work at. Her dark skin and kicking body have men flocking to her like flies to honey.

Shit, if I was into girls I would put her at the top of my list. But the most important thing is that Stacy is one of the kindest people I have ever met. She doesn’t put up with my bullshit and she doesn’t tolerate drugs of any kind.

It was her idea for me to try and make amends with Mandy. I had sent letters to both Mandy and Kim when I was locked up. Not surprisingly, I never heard anything back and didn’t expect to. But Stacy was right, Mandy deserved for me to apologize to her face. We were best friends, and I shit all over it.

I noticed her out of the corner of my eye. Mandy’s handsome husband was glued to her side and glowering right at me. Mandy’s slender shape and blonde hair were so familiar to me. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.

Mandy didn’t return it. She approached the table and didn’t sit down.

I nervously stood. “Mandy, it is good to see you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Shay, I wish I could say the same. Haven’t you done enough for my family? The only reason I’m here is that the lawyers said that it was your testimony that put Andrew away. I figured that I owed you the decency to listen to what you have to say. But now that I am here, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want your excuses. I’m happy now. You can’t take that away from me.”

She turned on her heel to leave and I felt my panic racing up my throat.

“No, no, no! Please, Mandy, don’t leave!”

Elliot growled at me and I took a nervous step back.

Mandy turned, and I saw tears swimming in her blue eyes. Shit, I didn’t come here to hurt her.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” I started, and she actually laughed in my face.

“You? Are you sorry? You know what? Whatever, thanks for letting me know.”

She whipped back around and stormed out of the café, her expensive shoes clicking on the tiles. Her husband glared at me. “Don’t contact us again.”

I nodded—defeated. “I won’t.”

He followed her, and I sank back down in my chair. The snotty waitress who had shamelessly watched the whole scene raised a brow. “Are you going to order anything? Because if you aren’t we really need the table.”

The fucking café was empty, and she knew it as well as I did. They wanted the trash out of the establishment—me.

I stood, tucking the strap of my purse over my shoulder, only to have the thin leather snap. Suddenly everything I had in my bag was scattered over the tiles. There were tampons, lip gloss, my phone, some lotion, gum, and my twelve-step book. The waitress grabbed the book and looked at me again with a hint of pity.

I thanked her and tucked the bag under my arm with my possessions shoved back inside.

The voices had already started up.

‘Just one hit, it won’t hurt anything. You will fell so much better. All of this will go away. Do it, Shay, we need it.’

I choked back a sob. This had been a mistake. I didn’t feel any better; if anything, I felt a crapload worse. But this wasn’t about me feeling better. It was about owning up to my mistakes.

I pulled out my phone and started to dial Stacy’s number.

“Hey, Shay, how did it go?”

Right as I was about to answer, a hand wrapped around my mouth and yanked me back against a hard chest. The other arm wrapped around me like a vise and lifted me up off the pavement.

“Shay? Girl, did you butt-dial me?”

My phone fell to the pavement as my captor shoved me inside of an unmarked van that I hadn’t noticed parked at the curb. I couldn’t call out, couldn’t move, and didn’t expect when the blow came to my head and black dots appeared in front of my eyes.

“Shit, there is no need to rough her up!”

The man’s voice was somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place where.

“She was going to scream!” The man who hit me argued. “What do you care if I hit the bitch?”

I didn’t hear the other man’s answer because I had finally escaped into nothingness.