March 8, 2017 by Evelyn Summers
Is it possible to pick that one defining moment in life that fucked you up? Can anyone look back on their life and pinpoint the exact minute it happened? I used to believe that I wasn’t fucked up. I had absolutely no reason to be.
Until I met him.
He fucked me up.
He really fucked me up.
It all started so simply. I only wanted to write a book about the dark, gritty world of nightclubs, booze, drugs, and sex. I didn’t expect to be sucked in to the point where I could no longer see the light. But I became weak. Axel Rye made me weak.
He was wrong in every way. He was a drug dealer, a criminal, and someone your parents told you to stay away from. Yet, he became my drug, and I shook in need until my next fix.
I was delicate.
He was scarred.
But together…together we became delicate scars.
NOTE: this book is a greatly revised version of a previously released book no longer available titled Ruby Rose.
I wasn’t in the mood to be at Wicked or any club at all. It was the second time this week for this club, but the fourth time being out on a request by owner. Even the line of coke I snorted before entering the club wasn’t helping my mood of feeling forced like a god damned prisoner to be there. Request by owner meant I got paid for even walking through the doors. Treated like fucking royalty all because I walked on the dark side and played the sick game. I only mingled, shook hands and gave false hugs to strangers because I got paid to do it.
I got paid a lot.
Unlike my father who was famous for his music, I was famous for one thing: I was a drug dealer. Always having a constant supply of good shit caused me to be in high demand at every bar, club, and trendy restaurant in town. What once used to be very secretive, behind-closed-doors, and hush-hush had recently become very visible. There was no secret I dealt. After my last arrest and the media circus around my hearing, when it came to trendy drugs for the rich, the famous, and the cool kids, I was seen as the face of it. Media took hold of the idea, and the rest spiraled out of control. Being a bad boy was hot, and I was about as bad as they got right now. It was fucking nuts.