Rex
I stare at the party in front of me without seeing. Depravity. What else is new? Nothing I need to see. Not anymore. If I was tired of it before, now I’m downright exhausted by it.
I balance my lowball glass of whisky on the arm of my chair, twist it carefully and try to discern if I could sneak out of this godforsaken hotel without anyone noticing me. There are the four of us from the band, a handful of girls, and then some of the crew. Maybe fifteen people in total. It’d be tricky but I could do it.
“Lines!” a female voice shrieks in excitement.
Across the room, a raven-haired woman with skin so pale I’m surprised I can’t see all her veins holds up a baggie of white stuff. Coke, obviously. I grimace as I watch her go about the business of pouring the powder onto the coffee table
