Finding Happiness in Los Angeles Read online

  Bad Choices

  Make Good Stories

  Finding Happiness

  in Los Angeles

  How The Great American Opioid Epidemic of The 21st Century Began – Volume 3

  Copyright © 2018 by Oliver Markus Malloy.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Becker and Malloy

  www.BeckerandMalloy.com

  A shocking glimpse into the crazy lives of drug addicted prostitutes. You'll never look at heroin addicts the same way again.

  After writing a book about his bizarre adventures in America's underbelly, Oliver finally finds love among his readers on Goodreads.

  "I think it will become a standard for people who are dealing with loved ones dealing with addictions."

  ★★★★★ - Amazon Review

  "I actually read this trilogy over the course of 3 days! I couldn't put the books down and I couldn't have asked for a better ending."

  ★★★★★ - Amazon Review

  "This is a fitting conclusion to a raw and honest series, and it left me with a satisfied grin."

  ★★★★★ - Goodreads Review

  "Thought provoking."

  ★★★★ - Amazon Review

  "I applaud the author for this very important message and one of the best examples of critical thinking explained. While this might seem very recognizable for Europeans, I feel these three books are mandatory reading for US citizens."

  ★★★★ - Goodreads Review

  "I read this book twice, it was so amazing."

  ★★★★★ - Goodreads Review

  "Very fun to read."

  ★★★★★ - Amazon Review

  Table of Contents

  TURNING INSANITY INTO A BOOK

  THE NEW GIRL

  BACK IN FLORIDA

  NOT TODAY. MAYBE TOMORROW.

  JASMINE AND ANITA

  THE ANGRY OLD SNIPER

  MY FIRST AND LAST THREESOME

  VERONICA AND WENDY

  REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED NAKED

  ABBY

  HALEY

  SONYA

  SONYA HAS A BOYFRIEND AND IT AIN'T ME

  ADDING INSULT TO INJURY

  GOODREADS

  JENNY

  BELLA

  CARMEN

  FIFTY SHADES OF CRAPPY PORN

  SHELLY

  LIKE IT'S THE VERY FIRST TIME

  LOS ANGELES

  MY FRIEND THE ASTROLOGY ADDICT

  THE UNIVERSE DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU

  LOST SOULS AND SNAKE OIL SALESMEN

  SELLING HAPPINESS

  I FINALLY FOUND HAPPINESS

  Dear Reader,

  You're a little late to the party. Where the hell have you been? This is already the third and final part of the trilogy, and you're only joining us now? Tsk tsk tsk.

  Let me get you up to speed on what you've missed so far:

  In book one, Going to New York, you missed the utterly fascinating, nay spellbinding saga of me growing up in Germany and later emigrating to New York. I was a brooding, troubled teenage hacker. Wow! Good stuff! It's almost like my life was the perfect kind of crazy to make a really awesome book!

  Anyway, being a teenage hacker came in handy later in life. I went from rags to riches thanks to my keen understanding of technology and how to use the web to my advantage.

  In New York I was married to Donna, a girl I had met online. She was an agoraphobic, prone to temper tantrums. And fun was had by all, which led to a divorce 16 years later. That's where the story gets really interesting.

  I began dating. It didn't go well. I was no good at it. OK, truth be told, I was really bad at it. Apparently I had terrible taste in women. A heroin-addicted hooker named Alice broke my heart and robbed me of my will to live. Doesn't sound very fun, does it? But it's a fun read, I promise. Dark, but fun. Mesmerizing even!

  Brokenhearted, I moved from New York to Florida. That's where the first book ends.

  The second book you missed (I'm not mad at you. I'm just disappointed.) is called The Heroin Scene in Fort Myers, which is a very fitting title, believe me.

  Sometimes I'm a slow learner, so I dated my way through the heroin scene in Florida, and I couldn't figure out for years why I wasn't finding any wife material. But oh how I tried. And tried. In all the wrong places. Pretty sad. I'm not proud of it.

  After years of sad pathetic sex with heroin addicts I was a wreck. My younger self wouldn't have even recognized me. Lucy and Veronica had turned me into a broken, humiliated shell of a man. My heart had been ripped out of my chest so many times, it was a miracle I hadn't killed myself yet. (Seriously, it's a fun read. I promise!)

  At the end of the book I had it up to here with heroin addicts. I told myself never again would I let myself be sucked in by the sweet lies of manipulative, fake love. The name of the final chapter was NO MO HO. No more whores. I needed to change my life before my life was going to kill me.

  I hopped on a plane, back to my native Germany, to lick my wounds and heal before returning to America. That's where the second book ended.

  And now, for our third and final act...

  TURNING INSANITY INTO A BOOK

  "Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand."

  George Orwell

  On my flight from Florida to Germany, my mind was racing. Once I had decided to write down all the bizarre things that had happened over the past few years, I couldn't wait to get started. All these painful memories popped into my head, demanding to be written down.

  I fly back to Germany at least once a year, to visit my parents for Christmas. As always, I was going to stay there for a month again.

  That entire month, from December 15th, 2013 to January 15th, 2014, I typed my little heart out. Every free minute, I was on my laptop, typing up a storm. And every minute I wasn't on my laptop, I was thinking about getting back to it. I was obsessed. I couldn't think about anything else. I ended up completing the whole book, about 500 pages, during those 30 days. The pages just poured out of me, without any test run or plan. It all just came out as one finished piece. Like the story was already there, and all I had to do was write it down.

  My heart had been broken over and over by drug addicted hookers. It's a miracle I made it through all that emotional pain alive. Before I got on the plane, I had sworn to myself that I was done, once and for all. That was my New Year's resolution: "NO MO HO." No more whores.

  But like all New Year's resolutions, it didn't last very long. After a few days, I caved. I looked on Backpage, to see if Lucy or her aunt Nicole had posted escort ads. I had been dating both of them. (Don't ask. Just read the previous book.)

  It was so painful to see their escort ads. They had posted almost naked pictures of themselves, inviting random strangers to come fuck them.

  I had told myself I wasn't going to contact them anymore. I wasn't going to look them up, or answer the phone if they called me. And yet here I was, just a few days later, wallowing in misery, looking at their naked pictures online. It was like picking at the scab on a fresh wound. The wound can't heal if you don't leave it alone. But I kept picking at it.

  I texted Nicole. Basically it was a long "I told you so!" I had told her months ago, that if she didn't stop shooting up heroin, she'd end up just like her niece Lucy: a hooker who sucks dick and spreads her legs all day every day, to be able to afford her very expensive drug addiction.

  Nicole didn't reply. I figured she was too busy fucking random guys. It was eating me up alive. This w
as exactly why I shouldn't be contacting either one of them.

  Then I looked up Lucy. Neither she nor Nicole had updated their Facebook pages in a few days. Over the last few years I had learned that that means they were really badly on drugs. Drug addicted girls are not that different from sober girls, when they're only doing a little bit of drugs. They like to pose for selfies, or post pictures of their latest meal.

  But as they sink deeper and deeper into their addiction, posting selfies becomes less and less interesting. They have more important things to do. As their addiction gets worse, their Facebook posts become fewer and fewer.

  Then I looked up the inmate log at Lee County Jail. It wasn't unusual for me to do that. It was a habit. Drug addicts are in and out of jail all the time. It's their second home. When you date a drug addicted hooker (is there any other kind?) and you don't know where she is, because she disappeared off the face of the earth, looking for her in jail is usually the first step.

  I had looked at the Lee County Jail website almost on a daily basis for the past few years. Often not even because I was looking for someone, but simply to see if I saw a familiar face on the daily arrest log.

  I wasn't the only one who did that. All the addicts in the heroin scene in Fort Myers checked the LCJ website daily, to see who got arrested, and who just got out. They all knew each other. For them it was almost like reading the daily headlines. Or checking Facebook, to see what all your friends are up to today.

  So, just out of habit, I checked the LCJ website the day after Christmas. And there they were! Nicole and Lucy had both been arrested on Christmas morning during one of the Lee County Sheriff's frequent prostitution stings.

  Damn, that gotta suck. Not only did Lucy and Nicole have to fuck random lowlives on Christmas morning. No, as an added bonus they went to jail. Worst Christmas ever! Well, for most people. For addicts that's business as usual. An addict's average day is worse than a sober person's worst day. This probably wasn't even their worst Christmas. At least in jail they were safe, had a bed, clean clothes, and a warm meal.

  I messaged Ivy on Facebook. She was one of Lucy's friends. Another drug addicted girl who spent a lot of time in and out of jail. I asked her to tell Lucy to call me. They all talked to each other, so I knew Ivy would be able to give Lucy my message somehow. Maybe when Lucy called her drug dealer from LCJ, to ask him to put some money on her jail account, so she could buy candy. If her friend Ivy bought drugs from the same dealer, she'd give my message to the dealer and then he'd relay it to Lucy when she calls him from jail.

  It worked. A day or two later Lucy called me from LCJ. She was crying. It felt good to hear her voice. I had missed her so much. She told me that she and her aunt Nicole had both been arrested on the same "date." One of the guys who answered their escort ad on Backpage was an undercover cop. They set up a date for a threesome, or a "double" as hookers call it. When they let him into their cheap motel room, he arrested them after they had negotiated a price with him.

  They must have been careless, because usually hookers know all these little tricks that are supposed to make it harder for cops to arrest them. Like never saying sexual terms out loud. They use slang terms, because they think a judge won't convict them if they ask for "200 roses for Greek" instead of "200 dollars for anal sex." And they usually tell guys to leave money on the night table next to the bed, instead of handing the cash directly to the girl. As if that made a difference.

  And they prefer to have the men come to their hotel rooms. They don't like going to a guy's hotel, because that makes it easier for the cops to set up a sting. The undercover cop waits for the hooker to arrive, while his back up is waiting in the room next door.

  Lucy told me how sorry she was for everything, and that she wished she hadn't left me the way she did on the last day we saw each other. She said she wished she had listened to me. She asked me if I still loved her and if I could forgive her. "I want to come home to you when I get out. Please don't leave me. I love you," she cried.

  My New Year's resolution was completely out the window. All it took was a few minutes on the phone with her, hearing the pain and sadness in her sweet little voice, and she sucked me right back into her world.

  We talked for a while, and I told her I was in Germany for a month, but that once I got back to Florida, I would pick her up from jail when she got out. And then she could come stay with me, and we'd see how things go. Of course she promised she'd never do drugs again. I had heard that one a million times before by now. Whenever a drug addicted girl sobers up in jail, she has all the best intentions to change her life. But all of those good intentions are usually out the window, as soon as they get released from jail. Often they get picked up by their drug buddies or dealers, and they get high before they even leave the jail parking lot.

  Jail doesn't really look like those tiny little two-person cells with a bunk bed, that you see on TV. Well, ok some parts of jail look like that. But most inmates spend their days in a big open dorm, with some tables in the middle, where they can mingle and play cards. There are pay phones along one of the walls of the dorm, and the inmates stand in line, waiting for their turn to use one of the phones.

  When Nicole overheard that Lucy was talking to me, she kept shouting to Lucy that she should tell me that Nicole wanted to talk to me, too. She asked Lucy for my number, because she didn't have it memorized. Lucy promised Nicole that she would give her my number when she got off the phone with me. Then Lucy whispered to me: "I don't really wanna give her your number. Can you please not talk to my aunt anymore? If we're gonna be together, I don't want you to see her anymore."

  I didn't know what to say. Of course her request was perfectly reasonable. But on the other hand, Nicole and I had been seeing each other for these past few months, while I was supposedly in a relationship with Lucy, but Lucy was cheating on me the whole time. I ended up sleeping with Nicole, while Lucy was sleeping around on me with all these other guys.

  Nicole and I had gotten very close and we ended up in a relationship together during one of the many times when Lucy just disappeared, and I had no idea where she was, or who she was with. (I know, all that must sound really strange to you if you didn't read the previous book. But hey, at least I'm trying to give you a little recap.)

  I told Lucy I didn't want to hurt Nicole's feelings. Lucy said she understood, and that she didn't want to hurt her aunt either: "Ok, I guess you should talk to her. Otherwise she's gonna get really upset and that's gonna be awkward because we're both in the same dorm. I don't wanna get in a big fight with her. So, yeah, you can talk to her, but don't promise her that she can live with you when she gets out. I'm gonna live with you. We're together. But don't tell Nicole we're together when you talk to her, because she's gonna be really upset."

  It made me feel good to hear how confident Lucy sounded about wanting to be with me. Maybe this time, things would work out. (Yeah, right.)

  After we hung up, it didn't take long before it was Nicole's turn to use the phone. She called me, crying. She told me she loved me, and she was sorry about the way she ran out on me on the last day we saw each other, and that she wished she had listened to me. She told me she wanted to be with me, and she didn't want me to talk to Lucy anymore.

  "Yeah, but if I stop talking to Lucy altogether, she's gonna be really upset," I replied. I didn't know what else to say. Lucy had asked me not to tell Nicole that we were together, because she didn't want Nicole to be angry. There was a reason why Nicole was known as Barbarian Barbie in jail. She could kick most other women's ass. She was definitely more muscular than Lucy. If they got into a fist fight, Lucy wouldn't stand a chance.

  Nicole told me that being in jail without a penny was horrible. She asked me if I could send her some money, so she could buy some candy and toiletries. After we hung up, I put some money on her jail account.

  The next day, Lucy called me back: "Oh my God! I can't believe you put money on Nicole's books! You said you're with me! How can you send her mon
ey, but not me? Can you please send me money too? I'm your girlfriend! And don't send her any more money! Promise me!" She started to cry again.

  So I promised, and put some money on her jail account after we hung up.

  Later Nicole called me: "What the fuck? I thought you're with me! Why did you put money on Lucy's books? How is it gonna look if my boyfriend puts money on another girl's books?"

  This was getting way too fucking complicated. I told her that I felt bad for Lucy and that I still cared about her.

  "Yeah, I understand. I love her with all my heart. She's my niece, but sometimes I feel like she's my daughter," Nicole replied. "But don't send her any more money!"

  When Lucy called me back later, I told her that Nicole had asked me not to send Lucy any more money.