Beautiful Addictions Read Online Free Page B

newbie had let his girl’s name slip from his lips
     in casual conversation in the yard. Six weeks later, she was dead. That’s the thing
     about jail, your enemies inside were your enemies outside. A security fence and state-mandated
     freedom changed nothing.
    When Josie moved into the dilapidated building, he’d been surprised that she lived
     alone. He’d tried to hit on her when they passed in the hall, but his efforts always
     fell short.
    “Hey, mamacita. You’re new so I’mma help you out. I’m Alex.”
    “Josie.”
    “You need anything, come see me.”
    “Anything?”
    He smiled and grabbed onto the doorframe above his head, flexing his biceps. His eyes
     shined with victory.
    “Anything.”
    “Nah. I’m good, thanks,” Josie had replied as she retreated to her apartment.
    “I bet you are,” Alex answered.
    Six weeks later, things changed. He’d come straight home after having to teach one
     of his lackeys a lesson. The man’s blood stained his clothes in a speckled pattern
     and Alex knew his message had been delivered. A few beers later, he’d come down from
     his adrenaline high. While he was showering, the power had gone out. It wasn’t five
     minutes later that Josie came knocking. Her face, while trying to portray sexual prowess,
     showed nothing but fear.
    “I knew you couldn’t resist.”
    “Shut up,” she’d demanded before pushing him inside the apartment.
    Shrouded in darkness, he took Josie bent over his kitchen table and again in his bed,
     never questioning her sudden change of heart. He realized later that she’d done it
     only to have company during the blackest of nights. She was a girl too afraid to admit
     fear, opting for security in the arms of a stranger.
    Since then, he kept an eye on her as best he could. He installed three locks on her
     door and insisted that she use them. He brought her food a few times a week; otherwise
     she’d forget to eat. Recognizing her need for companionship and protection, Alex began
     to take a more platonic interest in Josie. All the other neighbors insisted that she
     was bizarre, but he knew better. She was defensive and hurting and completely alone.
     Perhaps Josie could be his one good deed. Not that she could ever redeem him from
     a lifetime of wrongdoings. Alex was damned regardless.
    Before taking a seat, Alex slid the pistol from his waistband and laid it on the table
     in front of him. He tossed the paper bag to Josie and assumed his usual position on
     the sofa, relaxed with legs splayed like a sexual lure. His large form took up her
     entire couch, but she never minded, keeping to her favorite spot on the floor. He
     brought her food and stayed until she ate. There was little dialogue, sometimes none
     at all. It wasn’t because she was shy or rude, just uninterested in forced conversation.
     Though, through all of their time spent together she had told him her story, shared
     just enough pieces for Alex to fill in the gaps.
    “Eat, Josie,” he demanded when she sat staring into the blinding light of the open
     window.
    “I’ll eat if you bring me some more of that coke. The good stuff. Not the crap you
     sell.”
    “I told you I’m not supplying you anymore. Eat. And stop buying this shit.”
    He gave her a threatening look that said everything in the arch of his eyebrow and
     purse of his lips. He held up the bag of pills that were so varied in color and shape
     they looked like candy. She didn’t answer or acknowledge his request, insisting that
     she was an adult and could take care of herself. She’d been doing it for so long now.
    Josie knew she’d never win this contest of wills. He would stay until she ate, no
     matter how long that took. She refocused her attention on the paper, shading the petals
     of each flower just so.
    She liked that Alex didn’t feel the need to ask about her well-being. She didn’t want
     to lie to him, but she knew that if asked, she’d give him what he wanted to hear.
     She’d