Idiot - Laura Clery Page 0,30

not yet!

Damon and I had one good week in his tiny, trashy, Beverly Hills apartment. I thought that living in Beverly Hills guaranteed that your apartment wouldn’t be a dump, but it turns out that horrible apartments are inevitable when you’re with an unsuccessful drug dealer. I didn’t mind, though. I was so happy to be back in LA. LA was like freedom to me, and nothing was going to mess that up. I also didn’t understand why we ever stayed in that trash dump, tiny New York studio when freaking Beverly Hills was an option! Like, are you kidding me?

Also, I know I promised myself that I would leave him after that night in New York. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t realize how horrible my situation was, or what a healthy relationship looked like. To me, Damon and I had a great relationship on the days that he wasn’t screaming at me. My perception of happiness and love was so warped by now.

We were enabling each other more than ever these days. He would steadily supply my increasing drug habits. Smoking a lot of weed and a bit of cocaine quickly turned into a lot of cocaine and a . . . lot of weed, as well. We’d go out almost every night and meet the most interesting people. Hey! I was networking again. I bypassed the agents and managers with cocaine problems this time, though, and instead met Leo and Andre, two fabulously femme gay partygoers in West Hollywood. They did something or other in entertainment, at least I thought they did. We exchanged numbers. That counts as networking, right?

Life was finally peaceful—UNTIL IT WASN’T.

It was the end of our first week staying at Damon’s Beverly Hills apartment. We had smoked a bunch of weed that morning, and lain out to nap on the couch a few hours later. (Weed for breakfast! A great way to start the day.) See? Super peaceful. Until I heard the front door slam open. Hard.

Someone outside had unlocked every lock, but had only gotten the door open three inches because of the chain lock that Damon had “randomly” remembered to put on. How convenient! It’s like he almost knew this was going to happen.

“Damon? Let me in!” a high-pitched, angry voice yelled from outside the door.

Damon’s eyes popped open. “Oh shit, oh shit—”

In his alarmed flailing, he had accidentally pushed me off the couch. Or maybe it was on purpose. He wasn’t the sweetest guy in the world.

I looked at the door and saw one mascara-laden eye peeking in. Of course. Another woman.

“Damon, who is that?? Why does she have a key??” I whispered.

“She’s my girlfriend. Laura, you have to run; she’s gonna kill you!”

SLAM! The woman outside, whose name I found out was Olivia, was trying to slam the door open with all her might. She saw me, and she was just as mad as I was. Except she probably didn’t have the extra bit of terror layered on top of it.

SLAM! The chain lock was quivering against her force. My momentary appreciation for her crazy-strength was cut short by her yelling, “I’m gonna fucking kill you both!”

That was my cue to get out.

“Go go go!” Damon yelled to me.

I ran out the back door as fast as I could, as a screaming match started between them. I looked back at the apartment complex to see my suitcase and belongings being thrown out the window onto the front lawn. I kept running for a couple blocks. Having just woken up, and still reeling from my morning blunt, I was especially disoriented and freaked out. Holy shit.

At least it all made sense now. That was why we hadn’t gone straight to the Beverly Hills apartment when we got into LA. That’s why we spent a week at Damon’s parents’ place. Damon had calculated the moment when he thought Olivia would be out of town and took us there, hoping that he would figure it out from there.

As great as this clarity was, it did nothing to save me right then. Think, Laura, think. What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go? Lavan had always protected me in New York, but he wasn’t here. I didn’t know anyone here anymore, but I did have a cell phone. You’ll be happy to know that this was one of the fleeting moments in between Damon’s cell phone–smashing rages. He had actually gotten me this one as an apology for