5

Little Toy Bikers and a Woman on the Run

Chapter 27 Fix

Wendy was convinced that the only people who had a problem with drug use were people who didn't use them and the rehab centers that profited from the myth that drug use was bad.

As far as the baby was concerned, the baby liked crank and would do little somersaults in her tummy. She didn't believe all the medical stuff about it damaging the baby. Besides, the baby was using her body like some parasite. The baby owed her its life. It was lucky that she hadn't had an abortion.

Rehab centers had everyone convinced that drugs were bad when what was really bad was not having drugs. That was what she was experiencing now, but when you lived in Charming's least desirable trailer park, there was always someone who either deals or knew someone who did. Sometimes there were even people who would make it while you waited.

She drove her beat up Chevy Malibu to Charming's most upscale pawn shop. It paid the best. She dug her wedding ring and engagement ring out of the bottom of her purse and pawned them. She liked the idea that Jax paid for her rehab and now he was paying for her drugs. It was his fault that she had to pawn the rings. If he gave her money, she wouldn't have had to pawn her rings.

Anger still burned hot in her over how quickly Jax had thrown their marriage away. It was rocky; she couldn't deny that, but it wasn't all her fault. He knew she liked to party and use crank before they got married.

After the wedding, he decided she had to give up her drug of choice while he was getting high every chance he got. He then had the nerve to blame her for his increased pot use. He said he needed it to deal with her like he was so damned perfect.

Sometimes, she hated Jax and this was one of those times. Fuck you, Jax Teller and your wedding ring and your engagement ring and your divorce and your damn baby who was ruining her body.

With money in her hand from her pawned rings, she went to the new crank dealer the new neighbor next door had recommended. She told her to mention her name to the crank dealer and she would give her a special price.

Wendy rubbed her belly.

"I'm getting you some fun, so you can do a somersault for mommy."

Each time she said the word "mommy", she felt like vomiting and it wasn't from morning sickness or, as she renamed it, morning to morning sickness because that was how long it lasted.

She wasn't looking forward to being a mother. If she didn't think the baby would help her get Jax back, she would have sold it to some Silicon Valley infertile couple. She could buy a lot of drugs with that money.

Selling a baby wasn't disgraceful. What was disgraceful was that attorneys and adoption agencies were allowed to make a ton of money while the mother who did all the work got the least amount of money.

Wendy refused to be an organ donor because it was a rip-off. Everyone made money off the donation except the organ donor. The surgeons who remove and transplant the organs made money while donors didn't get a penny.

There should be a set amount of money paid to the donor's estate. This could really help out financially needy people. Instead it enriched health insurance companies who didn't have to pay organ donors a penny. Once again those with the least amount of money were the first ones screwed over.

Someone in rehab said that crank and crack had a stigma because there was this stereotype that the user had lower social standing than a coke user because the drugs were cheaper.

The only other thing she remembered about rehab was that it was boring. Hearing all the whining junkies made her want to either kill herself or them. The best reason not to use drugs was so you didn't have to go to rehab and listen to a bunch of idiots being introspective and discovering their damage.

Wendy returned home to shoot up. Her mother was at her boyfriend's and wouldn't be back until whenever she decided to return. It could be hours or days. It reminded her of all the good times she had growing up when she never knew when her mother was going to be home. Rehab made her understand her drug use was her mother's fault.

She was glad that she'd found a new dealer because the guy that sold in the park was disgusting. He reeked of body odor, cigarettes and urine. She was glad that she'd pawned her rings, so she didn't have to trade blow jobs for crank with him.

A lot of guys liked sex with pregnant women, she might have to sell herself a little if she couldn't figure out something else to sell.

She could forget getting money out of Jax. He had caught on that she would tell him she needed something for the baby and then take the money he gave her to use on drugs. He would then buy whatever she told him she needed for the baby. She would take it and return it or sell it to someone at a big discount. Now, he wouldn't give her money at all.

She might be able to pawn her car's spare tire or the TV in her mother's bedroom. She never watched it because she was usually passed out drunk.

If she took the TV, she would have to make it look like a break-in because her mother warned her that if she stole from her again, she was going to kick her out pregnant or not.

That might work out. She could steal everything of value and her mother would kick her out. Jax wouldn't let the mother of his unborn baby be homeless. He would have to let her move in with him. She was going to get him back.

That was another advantage to drug use. She had become really good at coming up with ways to get money. Drug use had made her more creative.

She had even read that a lot of those Silicon Valley people used LSD because it helped them make up computer games. She'd never tried LSD, but she'd tried mushrooms once.

She'd hallucinated that Jax was a giant dick and he was chasing women. Now that she thought about it some more, it might not have been a hallucination. Sometimes the lines between thought and reality got blurred.

There was just one problem about moving in with Jax. She would have to quit using. Once she finished the crank she had and the crank she was going to get from selling her mother's stuff, she would quit using.

She prepared the crank, found a vein and pushed the plunger that sent the drug coursing into her bloodstream. It was an indescribable rush. This was really good shit.

Before she could fully enjoy it, she heard someone at the door. She tiptoed silently to the door to see who was outside. She looked through the peephole in the door. It was Gemma. She wasn't opening the door to that bitch. She'd rat her out to Jax.

"I know you're in there Wendy. Your car's out front," Gemma called.

Wendy crept silently back to the kitchen and sat at the table. She shut her eyes savoring the feel of the drug in her bloodstream.

The baby did a somersault to celebrate getting crank.