As hard as it is sometimes to relive the past my bff (I call her “Olive” on here) convinced me to start writing my book already. I am going to try to write a few pages a day and post some excerpts.

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My boss let me off early that day. After all it was a Friday. I worked on the 20^th floor of the Wells Fargo building in the small corporate section in Las Vegas. I was working for a pretty prominent hotel development company that had recently opened a branch in Vegas. I was hired to assist the two VP’s as they got this office up and running. Before my boss could say “have a nice weekend” I had already punched the elevator button for the ground floor. I waited at the curb briefly for my mom to pick me up, then remembered, I had driven myself to work that day in the car my stepdad had just bought for me.

It was May. So much had changed since I took that one way trip from Los Angeles to Vegas on January 1, 2007. I hardly remember getting on the plane. I guess being up for 3 days mixed with pain killers, heroin and muscle relaxants might affect ones memory. My mom had begged me for months to just get on the plane and move in with her and her new husband. I was trying to make it on my own in my heroin chic meth addled state. I must have been high to think I could make it in LA of all places in my condition. I have always been a girl who fancied the finer things in life. When I was little my mother often remarked that the stork should’ve dropped me off in Beverly Hills, not West Covina, Ca. Even at my most broken, I would always manage to take up residence in some rich person’s crack den … Therefore in only took one night of literally sleeping on the streets of LA before I finally took her up on her offer.

As I passed the Las Vegas strip on the way to the fwy for home, I thought about Olive*; my best friend since 2^nd grade. I hadn’t talked to her since New Year’s Eve. We grew up sheltered little Burbank girls and when I ventured away from her into the depths of hard drugs and living dangerously during the summer of 2004 she was destroyed. . She wanted no part of what I was getting into. She practiced tough love on me. I had been so resentful at the time but later knew how deep down she was terrified of losing me and couldn’t even handle speaking to me on the phone. After not speaking for a couple years she broke down, found my number on MySpace and called me. When she called, I was so happy to hear her voice; the mere sound of it reminded me of our carefree days chasing down boys in my Toyota Celica. It reminded me of home. She reminded me of me, and although I had just been thrown out of the last crack motel with a vacancy on New Year’s eve I was jolted, if only for a moment into sobriety in the depths of anything but. “Fuck it Fred (she’s always called me Fred), I don’t care what state you’re in I need to see you.” I really wanted to see her, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t even tell her I was roaming the streets of Hollywood with no place to go falling in and out of a dream state as I walked a crooked line. Before I knew it it was pitch black outside. Everyone was so merry and giddy. Girls my age dressed to kill, arm in arm with their lovers or bff’s .. I was alone. I didn’t even have a jacket. The Asian lady wouldn’t let me get my luggage from the room because I still owed a nights rent. I went to a semi familiar place. A girlfriend of mine that I met through the drug world had an apartment close to where I was. I knew she was out of town. I broke into the building and into her community laundry room, at least it was warm in there. I could get some sleep before calling my mom the next morning to get me that plane ticket. When I wore out my welcome in the laundry room, I moved to the basement of the building. I sat on lawn chair and cried. From that chair I saw a glorious party happening with twinkly lights and decorated pools. I heard joy and music, drunken laughter. I had no idea of the time, until I heard the count down. “10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Happy New Year people jumping for joy” What have I done? It was the oddest thing to view my past life live, in action, right in front of me. Olive and I had been to parties just like that. I once was one of those oblivious, drunken girls jumping for joy at the prospect of a new year; new beginnings. Even though it was 10 feet away, it might as well have been 100 miles away. How did I get here? The evening got worse from there. I thought about another one of my drug buddies in West Hollywood. He was a flamer, through and through, but would usually let me crash if I had a hot dude with me. I was solo tonight, but thought I’d give it a try. I walked the 5 miles in open towed slippers and a wind breaker. I got to the steps of his apartment and fell asleep. I woke up and knocked on the door. A man I had never seen before opened to say the fairy was on an extended vacation somewhere. I could tell it was a lie. A cab driver seemed to take pity on me and asked if I needed a ride, I told him I was broke. He still offered the ride. I told him to take me back to Hollywood and Fulton. I should’ve known it was too good to be true. I don’t think he wanted me to sit in the front seat to take advantage of the heater; he wanted to take advantage of me. About a mile away from where he picked me up, I could tell, he wasn’t going to let me out without a favor in return. I started sobbing and sobbing, he patted my hair “It’s ok, there’s nothing to be afraid of” I wanted his disgusting fingers out of my hair. He started driving faster. Great, now I can’t jump out. He took a sharp left onto a side street. My angels must’ve been looking after me because a cop pulled him over. I had never been so happy to see a cop in my whole life.. Little did that cop know, he saved me from being raped. I went back to the basement where the New Year ’s Eve party was letting out. I shivered myself to sleep until sunrise. Called my mom to tell her I was coming home. I arrived with the clothes on my back, I never got my luggage from the Asian lady. I had not a dime in my pocket, I weighed 80 pounds.

Yes, a lot had changed. I was sober, happy, gainfully employed, I had a car. I was like a responsible person now. As I waited for the red light to turn green on the fwy I called Olive. Little did I know that perfect Friday in May would turn to the saddest day imaginable. Our mutual best friend had just been murdered. At least I had 20 more minutes to enjoy the drive home from work and pretend all was OK before she returned my call with the news. Yes, what a difference a few minutes makes.</