Addiction Pixie Dust

ADDICTION: PIXIE DUST

by uciboy

(2024)

PART ONE

Ron Barker sat at his computer screen typing away with an unlit all-white 100 clenched firmly between his teeth. He looked down at his watch. Posting time was in five minutes.

Piece of cake,

he thought to himself. He was used to working on deadline. Of course, being the editor of his own investigative online magazine was a lot more pressure than being a court house beat reporter at the

Richmond Times-Dispatch

ten years before. He used his tongue to shift the cigarette to the other side of his mouth, continuing to type wildly as inspiration struck like lightening in a concluding sentence. He pressed the return key to upload the article and looked down at his watch.

Two minutes to spare.

The middle-aged, white man put his hands on the back of his balding head and sat back in his swivel chair as he read the headline in big, bold letters. "PHILLIP MORRIS CONTINUES TO MARKET TO KIDS!"

That should get some hits.

Bashing the tobacco industry wasn't just his passion; it was also good business. He looked up at the wall and scanned the journalism awards his website had garnered. He was even given the Lung Cancer Discovery Award from the American Heart and Lung Association, not because of any scientific research he had conducted but rather because of a breaking story he wrote two years ago about a secret division within the Phillip Morris lab that had developed a nicotine liquid so powerful that it guaranteed smoking addiction. He nearly got sued over that one, but Phillip Morris decided it didn't want the publicity. Ron soon discovered from an inside source at the corporate office that all of the lab research had been deleted, and the Japanese scientist in Richmond who led the project had mysteriously died in a lab accident.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and found the filter mushy from saliva. He threw it into the trash can, reached for another inside a box at the front of his desk, and put it into the side of his mouth where he continued to puff on it unlit. Then he heard a knock on his office door which opened immediately.

"We're in," said a 38 year old tall and slender Chinese American woman.

Ron's eyes brightened. "You got the position?" he asked excitedly.

"Black Ops at Phillip Morris," the woman said as she threw down on the desk an acceptance letter for an administrative assistant position to the VP of Research and Development.

"Victoria," the editor said as he poured over the letter, "how the hell did you manage this?

"I told you my contact would pan out," she said as she sat down in a chair and scanned her cell phone for text messages. "My mother used to play Mahjong with her when I was a kid."

"And you can trust her?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Hundred percent," Victoria said, still looking down at her phone. "In Chinese culture, she's like a relative. Auntie Jun, I call her, even though she's just a family friend."

"Well, as I recall from a history class, a lot of family members were turning on each other during the Cultural Revolution, so I don't put much stock in Chinese culture protecting you."

Victoria looked up at her boss who still had the unlit cigarette in the corner of her mouth. "Her husband died of lung cancer last year, so she's looking for some revenge against the company she works for." She picked up the decorative lighter which doubled as a paper weight sitting next to the box and flicked it. "You gonna light that?" she asked as she offered him the flame.

"Very funny," Ron said.

Victoria Gong knew that her boss had made a vow to never again take a puff on a lit cigarette five years ago, and that he had remained true to that vow. He said that it was because his crusade against the tobacco companies required that he quit. She had her own suspicions, though, as to the real reason.

"You know, Ron, Logan just isn't interested in you, whether you're a smoker or not," she said still holding the flame.

"A guy can still hope," he said longingly as he looked out the large glass pane window into the newsroom at one of his top reporters sitting in front of a computer screen. He pulled

the cigarette out of his mouth and blew a gust of air to put out the flame still flickering. "So when do you start?"

"Tomorrow morning," Victoria replied.

"You know what you need to do tonight, then." Ron reached into the box and pulled out a handful of cigarettes. He knew from insiders that the lab only hired smokers as a security precaution.

"No thanks," Victoria said declining the offer of the cigarettes in her editor's hand. "I got my own brand," she added, pulling a pack of Virginia Slims 120's Menthol out of her skirt pocket. "It's what my mother used to smoke."

"Until she also died of lung cancer," Ron said sympathetically. Victoria had been with him since he started up the

PeoplesAdvocate.com.

She was like family, and so he was conflicted about asking his star reporter to take up smoking just for a story - though this would be a very important story, the kind that generated Peabody Awards. "You sure you're ready to do this?"

"Oh, yeah," Victoria said with the wave of a hand. "I'll just puff on them. Nobody will know the difference."

"Well," the editor replied, "there is a difference between exhaling smoke that is inhaled and smoke that is not. The latter is much thicker."

"Then I'll just have to inhale a few puffs to fake my way through it," Victoria said mischievously as she stood up and retrieved the acceptance letter from the desk. "Besides, it's just for a few weeks. It's not like I'm going to get addicted."

"Hmmmm," Ron replied skeptically. "Smoking feels pretty good." Just saying that out loud made him want to light the cigarette in his mouth.

"I'll take your word for it," Victoria said with a smirk as she got up to leave the room, "although we'll see what my daughter has to say about it. She's gonna be pretty surprised when she sees her momma smoking a long, sexy cigarette."

As he watched her reach for the door knob, Ron said sincerely, "Victoria, be careful. These people in Black Ops are capable of anything."

Victoria smiled. "I will."

+++++++++++++++++++++++

JoAnn Gong and her best friend Katie Vu stood outside a 7-11. The former was wearing a grey skirt, navy blue V-sweater and white blouse. Though her layered, long hair, dyed a rich brown, showed some maturity in the teenager, in fact the 18 year old looked several years younger wearing her school uniform. The latter, however, had changed into jeans and a T-shirt, adding at least several years in appearance onto the 18 year old's real age.

"You sure this place will sell me a pack?" the tall, thin Vietnamese American asked as she used both hands to untie the pony tail on the back of her head and let her long, black hair hang loosely over her shoulders to make herself appear older.

"'Course I'm sure," JoAnn said as she applied some lipstick to her friend's lips. "Just don't draw too much attention to yourself and you'll be fine."

"Okay," Katie said eagerly, "here I go." She walked into the convenience store and directly to the counter. "A pack of Marlboro Lights, please," the 18 year old requested confidently. The cashier didn't even hesitate as he turned around, reached for a pack from a display rack, and rang up the purchase. "Thanks," Katie said with a radiant smile and walked out to the parking lot where JoAnn was waiting.

"You get 'em?" JoAnn asked excitedly.

"No problem," Katie replied as she tossed her friend the pack. "He didn't even size me up."

"Excellent." JoAnn tapped away on her cell phone for several seconds. "Okay, let's get him."

The two teens walked into the 7-11 and saw that the cashier was helping another customer. That suited JoAnn just fine for she loved having an audience. "Sir," she said in a loud voice, "are you aware that you just sold a pack of cigarettes to an 18 year old?"

An expression of shock appeared onto the cashier's face before morphing into anger. "What are you talking about? I don't even know who this girl is," he said pointing at Katie.

"That's not what the evidence shows," JoAnn said in the tone of a prosecutor, and she held up her phone and pressed play.

That expression of anger on the merchant had now turned to fear.

"You just had your butt kicked by the Butt Kickers of Robert E. Lee Academy," Katie said dramatically as she pointed to the small camera lens just barely sticking out of her shirt pocket.

"I want you both out of here before I call the police!" he yelled.

"Don't bother," JoAnn replied defiantly as she tapped away on her phone. "I've just sent the video to their Underage Sales Hotline site. I'm sure you'll be getting a visit from them soon."

"See ya," Katie said with a small wave as they both walked out the door.

"That makes four today," JoAnn said as she pulled a clipboard out of her backpack. "That's gotta be a record for us! Let's go celebrate."

"Cool!" Katie said. "I got the pack of smokes!"

Both girls laughed as they dropped the pack on the ground, crushed it with their feet, and threw it into a trash can outside the convenience store.

-----------------------------------

When the two teenagers got back to Katie's house, their nostrils were assaulted with the stench of second-hand smoke. As they walked into the living room, they watched an attractive middle-aged Vietnamese American woman light a Capri 120 freehanded and immediately exhale through her nose.

Katie looked uncomfortably at her best friend and gave a nod with her head towards the kitchen.

"Does your Mom have to smoke in the house?" JoAnn whispered.

"This is my house," the woman coolly replied.

Embarrassed that she had been overheard making such a rude comment, JoAnn said to Katie in the kitchen, "I don't think your mom likes me."

"Well," the teenager replied as she reached into the fridge for two soft-drinks, "you're an acquired taste." She handed JoAnn a Diet Coke and noticed that her friend was looking down at a pack of Capri on the kitchen table next to an ashtray that had several crushed butts. She knew that dirty ashtrays always made JoAnn feel queasy. "Come on," she said grabbing her by the arm and taking her outside on to the porch.

"God, I can't wait to go to college," Katie said as she opened a can of Sprite. "I'm just so sick of living here," she added in a low growl.

"And who knows what kind of risk you've been exposed to with all the second hand smoke you've had to breathe in the last 18 years?" JoAnn said in a sympathetic tone. "Honestly, I don't know why smoking around kids isn't considered parental abuse." She took a swig on her Diet Coke. "I think it's time the Kicking Butts club started a new initiative. Get a petition going, call a few Congressmen. Look how successful we've been with the underage sales campaign. A new focus would be great publicity!"

Without a doubt, JoAnn was a rabid anti-smoker. She was obsessed with the anti-smoking cause, spending every waking moment thinking about new ways to make life miserable not just for the tobacco companies, but for adult smokers in general. She understood the science behind addiction, but she had no sympathy for the addicts themselves. "They weren't born addicted to nicotine," she would tell anyone who would listen. "They made the choice to start and to keep smoking, and so the fault of their dependence lies with themselves." She couldn't make them stop, but she would continue to do everything in her power to make smoking less socially acceptable so that teens would be persuaded to quit, or better yet, never start.

"Where was Chris today?" Katie asked. "He usually tags along with us when we hit the convenience stores."

"He was at the library," JoAnn replied before taking another sip on her drink. "He's got a lot of homework."

"You guys aren't fighting, are you?"

"No, 'course not. We're both just really busy at this time of the semester."

"Girl, you a need his dick between your legs to relieve some of that stress!"

JoAnn nearly spit out her Diet Coke laughing. "Like you would know all about that, you lesbo."

"Bisexual," Katie politely corrected her.

"Right," JoAnn said with some exasperation, "bisexual. Honestly, I don't know what the difference is."

"I'll send you a copy of the Manual," Katie teased. Then she grew more serious in her tone. "You know, I'm not sure he's really committed to the cause."

Oh, here we go,

JoAnn thought to herself. She knew that Katie and Chris didn't get along and pretty much maintained at best a civil relationship when they were both around her.

What excuse is Katie going to use now?

"After all," Katie continued, "he rarely comes to the club meetings; and you know his Mom smokes."

"Well, so does yours," JoAnn replied with some irritation. "You're not a closet smoker, are you?" she asked in mock suspicion.

"Oh, yes," Katie responded picking up a pen off the table and waving it around with her hand, "I'm definitely heading to the Isle of Capri with my Mom as soon as you leave."

The two girls giggled, but then JoAnn said softly, touching her friend on the arm, "I wish you and Chris got along better."

"Pfft, we get along fine," Katie said not entirely convincingly. "He is my next door neighbor, after all." She took another sip on her Sprite, then gently added. "But you know, if things don't work out with you and lover boy, you could always take a walk on the wild side." Katie stared at JoAnn with longing.

"You know I don't swing that way, girl friend" JoAnn scoffed.

Katie and JoAnn had known each other since grade school. Both shared a wry sense of humor and an anti-smoking passion that instantly created a bond between them. Though JoAnn wondered why someone as pretty as Katie never had a boyfriend, she never suspected that her friend was lesbian, or bisexual, or whatever term she called herself; she just thought she was too busy with school. JoAnn couldn't hide her shock, then, when Katie not only came-out of the closet at the beginning of their senior year, but also professed to having a serious crush on her since fourth grade. JoAnn, who had just started dating Chris when Katie told her this, explained that while she was flattered, she was also very straight. The two had remained close friends, but JoAnn always felt uncomfortable when Katie would say something like she just did.

An awkward silence hung in the air until JoAnn looked at her watch. "Speaking of leaving, I should get going. I need to work on our club newsletter before Chris comes by later."

"Girl, the world's not gonna end if you take a break, you know?"

"But think about how many people might start smoking if I do."

Katie shook her head in astonishment at her best friend's commitment to the anti-smoking cause. "This is why we'll follow wherever you may lead us."

PART TWO

As Victoria drove home from work that day, she kept glancing at the carton of Virginia Slims 120's Menthols on the passenger seat which she had bought at a local smoke shop earlier that morning. She recalled how nervous she was conversing with the cashier, as if she were a teenager who was afraid she was going to get busted for underage smoking. What this mother, however, had never told her anti-smoking daughter was that she had earlier in life been a casual smoker. After all, she never lacked for opportunities in the single-mother household she grew up in with a Mom who loved her Virginia Slims 120's with a passion.

Victoria drove into the garage and reached for the carton. On a corner work shelf were a stack of dusty ashtrays that used to be placed throughout this house which Victoria herself had grown up in. She carried one into the kitchen and washed it in the sink. She couldn't believe that she had butterflies in her stomach as she walked out to the patio and pulled out from one pocket the pack she had earlier that day shown Ron. She reached into her other pocket for a lighter and set it on the table next to the pack and the ashtray. And then she just stared at the three items, remembering the last time in her life when she felt exactly this same excitement of anticipation...

-----------------------------------

Twenty Five Years Ago

The teenager sat staring at the pack of Virginia Slims 120's which her mother had left on the kitchen table before heading out for a game of Mahjong at Auntie Jun's home.

Should I?

Her desire to take a puff had never been as strong in her life as it was now at age 13. The constant smoking dreams were becoming unbearable for her as she would spend the rest of her day replaying the nocturnal images of her holding a long cigarette; of bringing it up to the side of her mouth and making the tip glow; of snapping back a massive white ball into her lungs and exhaling a smoky river. When she inhaled smoke in her dreams, she had the sensation that she was eating whipped cream. She doubted very much that that was what smoking really felt like, but clearly her subconscious had determined that whatever the feeling, it must be pleasurable.

She tried to crowd such images out of her mind by reading anti-smoking literature available at school, but nothing seemed to work. She wondered if puberty had something to do with it; or the fact that she knew several close friends who told her that they occasionally would puff on their parent's cigarettes, including Auntie Jun's own daughter! Most likely it was due to the fact that her mother made smoking look like a helluva lot of fun.

Yet the two words that kept entering her mind was the slogan she read every day on her classroom wall: Smoking Kills.Of course, I don't have to inhale it, or even take a puff for that matter. I'll just hold it. I want to see what I look like with a long, lit cigarette between my fingers.

She moved her hand and gently picked up the pack, then opened the lid. It was half-full. Her mother would never know if she took one; and there was plenty of time for any smoke in the kitchen to dissipate since her Mom spent hours playing and smoking with her friends.

Fully convinced now that there was no harm in holding a lit cigarette, she reached into the pack and pulled out one of the long white sticks. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst through her chest as she walked over to the gas stove in the kitchen and turned on one of the burners, then inserted the tip of the 120 into the blue flame. At first it seemed the cigarette wouldn't light as only the paper turned black, but as soon as she saw the tip glowing orange, she uncontrollably brought it up to her lips and took a puff.

It all happened so quickly that she was in a state of shock as she continued to puff on the filter, half wondering how that cigarette had even gotten between her lips. She paused and opened her mouth, and within seconds she saw thin tendrils of smoke rising from under her nose and climbing upwards past her eyes. She exhaled the remaining cloud and was filled with a euphoria as she watched it slowly bubble up towards the stove light.

That was cool,

she said to herself.

To hell with just holding it. I want to smoke it.

When she walked over to a mirror hanging on the wall and saw between her fingers that beautiful, long white cylinder with a thin ribbon of smoke rising from its tip, she felt that she had reached a turning point in her life. Was she ready to commit to becoming a smoker? She took another puff, excitement rising within her as she watched the orange tip brighten. She opened her mouth after removing the cigarette and was mesmerized by the reflection of the floating white sphere which had formed behind her lips. Again, she was filled with an uncontrollable desire, but this time to breathe in. She snapped back the white ball...and immediately began coughing violently.