To Hell... and Back

Will Max finally find happiness?

Thank you migbird for helping make this story better.

Please vote... comment... it's catnip for me.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Prologue

I'm Max Pemberton. Detective. A sergeant and twenty year veteran of the Cincinnati police force.

I'm used to getting my way. I usually fuck up other people along the way, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. But in my personal life I always end up fucking myself.

Take my latest run-in with Olek Shevchenko, a dirtbag if there ever was one. He was a Ukrainian crime boss who was knee deep in human trafficking, prostitution and drugs. My partner Lanny Townsend tried to take him out, but instead Olek got a glass shower in the face. He took out his anger on my girlfriend and love of my life, Lehka Singh, and forced her into a heroin addiction. That's about as low as it gets.

I helped rid the world of this scum, but instead of congratulations I was subjected to a painful investigation by Internal Affairs. Granted, I ignored the orders of Captain Sheehan in carrying out my brand of vigilante justice, but in my mind justice delayed was justice denied. Unfortunately for me, Internal Affairs didn't agree, and dished out a six month suspension without pay.

I was trying to pick up the pieces of my life after Lehka went back to Columbus to live with her parents as she struggled to shake her addiction. There was a gossamer thin lifeline between Lehka and me. And that's where this tale begins...

Chapter One

Lost in the Wilderness

I hated US-71. It was a clogged artery connecting Cincinnati and Columbus. I was crawling in bumper to bumper traffic for at least a half an hour. Of course the traffic in the other direction was going the speed limit. I finally saw the flashing lights of the fire engines ahead and figured it would be another ten minutes before I cleared the accident. My stomach started rumbling so I resurrected my lunch bag, finding a half-eaten McDonald's cheeseburger that I'd put back in the wrapper. Even cold, it was delicious. I washed it down with the remains of my last cup of coffee. I wadded up the sandwich wrapper and the cup and tossed them on top of the garbage from the last two meals I had in the car.

My former girlfriend, Lehka Singh, lived in Columbus, and I of course lived in Cincinnati. That fact did create a small amount of friction between us because she was a diehard Ohio State Buckeye fan and I had my beloved Cincinnati Bearcats. I said former because the last time I talked to her she told me never to call or see her again. Despite Lehka's prohibition, it was the fourth time in the last month that I made the two hour drive to Columbus to see her. The traffic finally let up and I was travelling the speed limit when I saw the sign for the Mt. Sterling exit. I knew I only had a half hour to go.

Lehka's three months of "recovery" after her forced heroin addiction was a complete failure. She lapsed within a week of living at home with her parents, and twice more after two stints at a high priced rehab clinic. Lehka's insurance didn't cover all of the rehab costs, which put a severe strain on Veehan and Eshana's finances. I put in $10,000 of my own money towards those costs.

Now she was home after her aborted second trip to the clinic. Being an experienced police officer, breaking out of the facility and finding drugs was easy for her. She scored drugs only a block away and was kicked out of the program the following day. After returning home, she lapsed again after two days. She had graduated to fentanyl, which was even more potent than heroin, and more difficult to kick. Her mother Eshana called me begging me to see her daughter. I didn't feel I could say no to anything she asked. I saddled up one more time for what I expected to be another failed attempt at resurrecting a relationship that was on life support and convincing Lehka to kick her habit.

I finally got to my exit and soon entered an older middle class tract neighborhood just outside the city limits of Columbus. Modest brick ranch houses with mature trees lined the narrow street. The Singh's house was tucked between two other homes with the identical profile. I noticed that Veehan's car was in the driveway at a time when he was usually at work in his jewelry store located in downtown Columbus.

Eshana opened the door before I could knock. Her eyes showed great relief.

"Max." She hugged me tight. She was usually impeccably dressed, with her hair and make-up done. Not so on this day. She was wearing her robe and slippers, with no make-up, even though it was late afternoon, and it was clear from her drawn face that she hadn't had a whole lot of sleep.

"How's she doing?" I asked.

"Not well. I think she's sleeping. Veehan's watching her door to make sure she doesn't get out."

"That bad?"

"Worse than ever," she sighed. She led me to Lehka's room, and along the way I noticed that the house hadn't been cleaned in a while and that there was a cardboard box with a half-eaten pizza still in it on a cluttered kitchen table. This was not in character for the usually tidy and put together couple. I saw Veehan sitting on a sofa in the hallway outside her room. He had pushed the sofa against the entrance to her room and attached a bungee cord to the door handle to keep her in her room.

"She's asleep... I think," Veehan said, as he put two fingers over his lips.

I peered at the closed door, as if I could see through it.

"Max... is that you?" came her voice through the door. I guess she was awake and talking to me again.

Her father looked at me expectantly.

"I think I need to see her," I told him.

I helped him move the sofa and detach the bungee cord. I pushed her door open. She was sitting upright in her bed with her back against the wall, wearing her pajamas. Veehan pulled the door shut behind me.

She looked at me and her eyes teared up. She looked so... sad. I ran up to her and hugged her, long and hard. We snuggled in each other's arms, like we had many times when we were together, and I felt the flicker of love that had not yet been extinguished.

I was cradling Lehka's head in my lap and singing her a song my mom used to sing to me when I was a child, and wanted to go to sleep. I stroked her shiny brown hair, still lustrous and full bodied in spite of the abuse she was dealing out to her body. I traced the hollow in her cheek. She was still twenty pounds under when I was with her. She never recovered the weight that she lost when she was hostage in Shevchenko's drug den. I wanted so desperately to love her, but she pushed me away, and it was only at Eshana's insistence that Lehka would let me see her. She didn't want me to see her this way. She was ashamed of her habit. She was ashamed of herself.

"Max... you can't save me," Lehka said, starting to sob lightly.

"It's what I do honey," I told her. I was the saver of lost souls.

"Not me. You have to live your life Max. You can't throw yours away waiting for someone who can't control her impulses."

"I love you Lehka."

"And I you Max, but that ignores reality. And the reality is that I'm not in the cards for you Max. People have loved and lost before and gotten past it. We need to. You need to."

I heard her loud and clear. How much clearer could she be? I still didn't want to believe her.

"What about you, Lehka? It's why I'm here. You're using again. I'm so worried about you. I know if I had your dealer busted that you'd just find someone else. I know it's got to come from you... from here." I put my hand over my heart.

"So easy the words flow off your lips, Max. It was the same for me when I scolded you for your binge drinking. Now the shoe's on the other foot. I'm the one who's given in. I've learned that my addiction is now my Mistress." She pointed to the tracks of needle marks on her left arm. "Have you had a drink recently Max?"

I thought about it. "Not since we got you back. It's been over three months."

"See? You've gotten control of your life and I've done the exact opposite."

That wasn't actually true. I've never really been in control of my life. But this conversation wasn't about me. I couldn't keep myself from asking her, "Why Lehka?"

Her head hung lower. "It's hard for me to explain. The best I can say is it dulls the pain. I still wake up in cold sweats dreaming I'm in that windowless little cell, giving up hope that I'll leave there alive. I can't get rid of the vision of Shevchenko's monstrous face. Or the memory of calling to you in the darkness."

I could understand her pain and her fears. They were deep and all consuming. She had to figure out a way to deal with them, or get destroyed by the drugs she was using to try to forget them.

I held her close and slipped my hand inside her dress, feeling the swell of her breast. I wanted to remember what it was like to make love with her, thinking we would have the rest of our lives together. The touch of her soft skin gave me a pit in my stomach knowing I might never see her again... alive.

She pushed me away so we could look into each other's eyes.

"You need to go Max. Live your life. I need to find out if I have the inner strength to pull me out of this. You know better than anyone what it means to beat an addiction. I have to do this myself. I'm the one being selfish here. I know that. Please don't call me."

A tear started trickling down her cheek.

"Please... Max... go..."

I got off the bed and left her bedroom without looking back. Veehan was in the hallway. I pointed to the sofa. "I don't think you're going to be needing that."

This departure felt final. I left, wondering if I'd ever see her again.

* * *

The question was never if I was going to take another drink. The correct question was when I was going to take my next drink. So goes the day to day life of an alcoholic.

It had been two weeks since I'd last seen Lehka and of course there was no word from her. I tried calling her a few times, despite her prohibition, but only got her voice mail. According to Eshana, she'd been away from home but had no idea where her daughter had gone. She was of course worried sick. I was still on administrative leave so I had nothing to do but sit in my room at the Royal Palms motel and stare at the wall. The call of the liquor store was an irresistible siren's song to me.

I ignored my conscience and grabbed my car keys to visit Nigel, the sage of his liquor kingdom. I sauntered into his palace mid-afternoon, before the hookers and pimps arrived in the parking lot. The Brit was there, restocking the wine selection, when he saw me come in.

"Max, long time no see," he said, putting down a case of red wine. "I was kind of hoping I wouldn't see you again."

"Thanks Nigel. I never wanted to see you again, yet here I am."

He held up a bottle of wine. "Have you ever considered changing spirits?" he asked.

"No."

"Well you should. This is a quality cabernet for only $20. You've got to up your game Max."

"I don't pay more than $5. Get me a couple pints of vodka," I told him.

He shook his head and went back behind the counter. "Same old Max."

"Just like the sun coming up in the east," I said, shedding a more favorable light on his astute observation.

He chuckled. "That's not exactly what I was thinking."

"Best keep your thoughts to yourself then."

He nodded, and then started straightening the bottles on the back shelf.

"Hmmmph," I called to him.

He turned around, with me interrupting his reverie.

"Vodka?"

"Ah yes," he said, waking up. "Two, right?" he asked, reaching for the top shelf.

"Uh huh."

He bagged the liquor and ran my card.

He looked at me as if he was imparting a pearl of wisdom. "You take care of yourself Max."

My life was shit. I was going back to drinking. "Yeah," I grunted.

* * *

I got drunk all day, every day, for two weeks. I didn't want to think about Lehka. I didn't want to worry, when I was helpless to help. I was only a couple days into my bender when Lanny dropped by. He was my partner, but more than that he was my friend. He knew he couldn't baby sit me, or tell me what to do, but he was watching my back, even when I wasn't working.

I told him I was drinking again so he brought beer with him. He wasn't encouraging me. I already had a decent stash of vodka and would tell him no if I really wanted to quit. Anyway, he showed up on his off day. It was almost one o'clock, and I had just gotten up when he knocked on my door.

"Lan neeeee," I said affectionately when I opened the door.

"Already drinking Max?" He walked in the door and flashed a twelve pack of Hudepohl.

"I've only been up for half hour, so maybe just a little bit," I admitted, holding my fingers about an inch apart.

He dropped the cardboard carton on the unmade bed and opened up a brown paper grocery bag. He pulled out a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and a can of Beer Nuts.

"Lunch," he said to me as he ripped open the Doritos. He ate a chip with a satisfied smile, and then popped a beer to wash it down. He sat on the bed.

"It's the good life here Max." He gave me a shit eating grin.

"Fuck you," I told him. He was admiring my squalor.

"Seriously Max, you are living only a half-step above a homeless person."

"Are you making fun of the Royal Palms?" I challenged him.

He took a handful of chips out of the bag. "Well... yes I am."

I took a can of beer out of the carton and lifted the tab to hear the satisfying "whoosh." The beer was ice cold. Bless his heart. I popped open the beer nuts and turned on the television.

"Reds pre-game is on now," I told him. I found the channel I was looking for.

"Yeah," he said. He got off the bed and pulled a guest chair from the other side of the room over next to mine. We both sat down with the carton of beer and the munchies between us.

I was already halfway done with my first beer and started in on the Doritos.

"Melanie is telling me I have to eat more balanced meals," he said, eating another chip.

"Who the fuck is Melanie?"

"She's my girlfriend Max. We've been dating for two months. Don't you listen to a thing I say to you?"

I lifted up the can and drained the beer. I threw the empty can across the room, missing the waste basket. A small puddle of beer came out of the can and onto the stained carpet.

"Fuck no," I told him.

"Max, sometimes being your friend is a trying experience."

"Yeah, but you've got to admit it's never a dull moment with your partner Max."

He finished his beer. He handed me one and took another one for himself. "I'll admit that."

"So anyway, tell me about this Melanie."

"She's wonderful Max. I met her at a car wash. I was waiting for my car to get done. Melanie was the cashier. We talked for about twenty minutes. I took her out on a date that night and we've been dating ever since." He pulled up a picture of her and showed me his phone. She was a pretty dishwater blonde. She was sitting on Lanny's lap while they were kissing.

"Who took the picture?"

"Ramos."

Ramos was the cop who manned the room where they kept all the information on confidential informants. We liked each other but he always had a habit of staring at my tits. Also, even though I knew him for over ten years, I never learned his first name.

"What was Ramos doing there?"

Lanny stuttered for a moment. "Uhh... they threw a party for Sheehan getting a medal for the Shevchenko case. It was at the Landing Point. Everyone was there except you. Ramos was there and I asked him to take a picture of us."

My blood pressure suddenly went up. "When was that?"

"Couple days ago."

Shit, Sheehan got a medal and I got the pointed end of the stick. "Why the fuck wasn't I invited?"

Lanny gave me a stern look. "You were Max."

"I was not," I insisted.

He thrust his hand under my nose. "Gimme your phone."

I opened it and handed it to him. He scrolled through my e-mails and found the invitation.

"Max... you've got over two hundred unopened e-mails. You got invited over a week ago. You never responded."

That sounded right. "I was... uhhh... busy," I told him.

"Right Max. You'd miss your own fucking funeral because you'd claim you didn't get the invitation."

"That I wouldn't miss," I shot back.

I exasperated my partner. "You know what I mean. You really are hopeless."

"Why didn't you call me?"

The game was starting. The Reds pitcher gave up a homer on the first pitch of the game.

"Fuck!" we both said at the same time.

Then Lanny swilled some beer before answering. "Excuse me Max. I'm working full-time and have a girlfriend who takes up every waking moment I'm not at work. You on the other hand are temporarily unemployed and have the whole fucking day to check your e-mails. Now why the fuck would I call you?"

That was a point taken. That's what drinking does for you. It does fuck up your personal life.

I was almost done with my second beer. Everything started to have a nice fuzzy feel to it. I ate another handful of nuts. Sweet and salty.

"You're right Lanny."

We both stopped paying attention to the game.

"I'm a fuck up," I admitted. "You know what happens when I start drinking."

"Kind of can't blame you Max. First Rachel... then Brianna... then Lehka."

"That's three strikes," I said.

"Yeah... you've got to get this out of your system Max. I'll be there when you decide to dry out."

I leaned over and patted him on the back. We both started watching the game again.

"You're the best Lanny."

He was.

* * *

I learned that being drunk gives you a built in excuse. An excuse to do something you wouldn't have the courage to do when you weren't.

In my case it was sex. I liked it, no I loved it, and sex with Lehka was something I dearly missed. So I visited one of the local bars, Bailey's. I usually drink by myself but occasionally I like to converse with another intelligent human being, and maybe go home with her. I was in one of those moods, near the end of the second week of my drunk-a-thon. Bailey's was a converted house that was about a mile past the liquor store. That made it easy for me to hit both of them on the same day.

Bailey's was owned by Candace Bailey, the younger sister of Madlyn Bailey. Maddy and I were buddies from way back. We went to the same high school, and Nicky was part of our clique as well. I hadn't declared for a team when I knew Maddy. She was unquestionably heterosexual. I was more of the tomboy type, wearing jeans most of the time. Maddy was the opposite of me. Much more preppy. Liked to wear short skirts and had the legs to show them off. I don't know why we were close friends. We couldn't have been any more different.

Maddy passed away a few years back and bequeathed the bar to her sister Candace (though everyone called her Candy). Candy started a Wednesday night special on drinks that somehow got informally appropriated by the lesbians in the area. Maddy was the sensible one, the one with the nose for business. Candy was the free spirit. You can say that Candy and I got to know each other much better after Maddy's untimely passing. We excused my bedding her as us being stinking drunk, but we both knew there was an underlying attraction.

It was sometime after eight when I got there. The bar was already full and Candy had hired a local band that was playing covers of Tom Petty. There was a small dance floor and drinks were half price. That meant shots of premium whiskey were $8, which made top shelf in my price range. I pushed my way through to the bar to start with two shots of Jack Daniels, and didn't spot Candy. The bar was staffed by two female bartenders I didn't recognize.