A/N: Yeah, it's back – finally! After a very long hiatus I got my Cake muse kicked up the ass. Short and sweet, but enjoy.

Can You Have Your Cake & Eat It?

Chapter Seventeen

It had been just over a week since the incident in Newark, and I still wanted to spend my waking hours climbing into a bottle. I'd divided my time by working, sleeping or getting drunk; my preferred state was drunk. If I was working then I could to easily replay the horrific events in my head, and if I was asleep then my dreams were filled with blood and death.

The alcohol helped, but I now had to drink enough to knock myself out cold. If I was just slightly tipsy, then when sleep did come, I was plagued by the nightmares and woke up screaming. I spent my waking hours hung over and tired, and had resorted to caffeine pills to get me thought my shift at Shorty's. In short, I was a fucking mess.

Thankfully, I'd not seen Ranger or Lester since they dropped me off after the… that event. When Bobby had stopped by at work and asked me out clubbing, I'd told him that I was too busy; I just couldn't face being around them. I didn't want Lester to see how badly the whole thing had messed my head up, and I didn't want to spend time with Bobby because I didn't want to be reminded of what I'd done to keep him safe.

That night had done something to me, I couldn't tell you just what it was, but I felt sick to my soul. I'd lost count with the number of times I'd wondered just how guys like Ranger, Lester and Danny lived with themselves. I knew why they did it, shit I even knew why I'd gotten involved; it was about friendship and loyalty, watching the backs of those you loved and cared about. Yet what I still couldn't wrap my drink addled head around was how you just carried on with life like nothing had happened. How did you bury the feelings and emotions? Despite Ranger and Lester's bad ass exterior, I knew that they were both capable of emotion. Maybe their stint in the army had helped them detach from the bad shit that went on around them. Unfortunately I didn't have that luxury, so I guess that I was going to be stuck with the drink for a little while longer.

The door to my building was standing open and music could be heard out on the sidewalk, even at 2.30am; guess the guy in 1B was having another party. I stepped into the entry way, maneuvered around the pile of discarded mail that littered the floor and paused outside the noisy apartment; voices floated out of the room, even over the din of the hip-hop. People were laughing, joking, having a good time and here I was, dying on the inside; I'd never felt so alone and cold.

I shook my head and started up the stairs to the emptiness of my apartment where I could stare at the walls again until I passed out. Still, Bobby was safe, and that was all that mattered.

"Hey pretty lady," a voice called out over the noise as I was a couple of steps up the stairs.

I turned around slowly, and my hand gravitated to the pepper spray in my bag. A tall, built and very cute black guy stood in the doorway to 1B. I raised an eyebrow at him.

He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his baggy jeans and smiled. "You wanna join us for a beer?"

I hesitated, and he must have sensed my uneasiness as he held his hands out, palms up, in a non threatening gesture. "Just a beer, okay? Being neighborly, that's all, girl. I seen you come home most nights."

I moved down a step. "Just a beer?"

He nodded. "I'll even turn the tunes down a bit, darlin'. What you say?"

"Sure, why not." At least that way I could save some of my wages instead of spending them all on booze by drinking someone else's.

I followed the guy into his apartment; it was sparse, but surprisingly clean and the smell of marijuana choked the air. A couple of other guys – one black and one Hispanic were sprawled out on the couch and they glanced up when I walked in.

Hispanic guy looked me up and down and leered, while the black guy flashed me a blinding, gold teeth filled smile. Okay, so maybe this was a bad idea.

My host handed me a bottle of Bud, knocked the stereo down a decibel or twenty, and motioned to the ratty armchair. "Sit down, darlin'. You look like you been on your feet for a week."

My Burg manners kicked in and I sat cautiously on the edge of the armchair and regretted accepting this invitation.

He sat on the arm of the couch and smiled at me. "You working at Shorty's, yeah?"

I nodded.

"You don't say much, do ya, doll?" Hispanic guy said with a lazy smile as he took a deep draw on a joint.

"Hell," cute guy murmured. "Where are my manners at? I'm Tyrone."

I accepted his outstretched hand. "Stephanie."

"And these two reprobates were just leavin', right?"

Gold teeth guy looked between Tyrone and I a couple of times, and shot a knowing look at his companion on the sofa. "We'll be going. Catch you later, man."

A couple of complicated handshakes followed, and the pair slipped out of the apartment and off into the night.

Tyrone moved to stretch out on the couch and set about rolling a joint. "You work too much, ya know."

"Huh?" I managed to reply oh so eloquently.

"I see you working like six nights a week; you look like you need to chill out."

I shrugged and tried to hide just how awkward I was feeling. "Gotta pay the rent."

"You not got a man to help with that?" he asked as he spread the grass into the papers and topped it up with tobacco.

I nearly choked on my beer. "Excuse me?"

He licked the papers and expertly rolled them into a tube, then slid a roach into one end. "Seen a few guys comin' and goin' at first; figured you was on the game, but I've not seem them for a while."

I stared at him incredulously. "You think I'm a hooker?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I thought that, but I figure now that you just wait tables, yeah?"

"Yes, I just wait tables," I gritted out as I picked up my purse and made to leave.

Tyrone lit the joint and took a deep drag. "Sit down, girl; I don't mean anything by it. I don't care what you to pay the bills, I just asking why a pretty thing like you don't got no man to help her make the rent."

I sat down again. "It's complicated."

He snorted. "Ain't it ever, baby."

I stared at my feet. "I just don't do so well with relationships; they always turn to shit."

Tyrone offered me the joint. "Here, you look like you got more worries than that in that head of yours. You got the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it seems like it's draggin' you down."

"I don't…" I started as I eyed the joint warily, and then thought what the hell. "Thank you."

"Atta girl. Makes the world a little better, you feel me?"

I took in a lungful of smoke, closed my eyes and slowly exhaled. "Maybe."

"Tell you what, I'll roll you another and you can take it with you."

I offered him the joint back and he shook his head. "I need to crash, and you look like you need that a lot more than I do. Take it and this fresh one home with you, and just let it all go for a while."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. I could use a little… you know."

"I get ya," he said with a nod as he rolled me another joint. "Drop in on your way home tomorrow, yeah?"

I drained my beer, grabbed my purse and accepted the smoke from his hand. "What do I owe you for this?"

Tyrone shook his head. "Nothing, don't you worry about it."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Sure. I'll see you around, Stephanie."

"Night, Tyrone," I said as I headed for the door. "And thank you."

"Sleep well," he called out.

I wandered up the stairs to my apartment, rooted in my bag for my keys and took another draw on the joint. Damn, I'd not done this stuff since college. Maybe a nice buzz and a few beers would help me sleep. Shit, it couldn't get any worse.

Once inside, I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked off my sneakers, grabbed a six pack from the fridge and settled down on my couch for another night of drinking and trying to keep the demons at bay.