He was definitely in the middle of an upper/downer cycle, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since his final year of college. Then, he had needed the Aderall to focus on the inane details of his Animal Behavior class (who CARED how all those different birds acted under stress?) and then copius amounts of liquor afterward to distract himself from the fact that everyone thought he was going to be a lawyer. Then it was back to Aderall for Medieval History, Logic and Bioethics, with smatterings of Miller High Life pitchers and handles of Popov Vodka thrown in between test cycles. By the time he graduated with a solid B average and guaranteed entrance to any third-tier law school with no financial aid, it was a relief to be allowed to stay tired.
Then came the job as a bouncer. In his parents’ minds it was just to save up some money before he buckled down and started seriously (no, seriously this time, Mom!) studying for the LSAT and getting ready to spend three years at Seton Hall. But to him, it was more than the means to an end. Jacob, for some odd reason, loved to bounce. He loved to stand in line, feeling large and powerful, holding a list while people sucked up to him and promised him drugs, cash, their first born child, anything to get into the club behind him. He took the drugs willingly as he lifted the sleek velvet rope, and then he took the free drinks from the bartender at the end of his shift. There were a waitress and a hostess who both had their eye on him because he seemed “mysterious,” but he was impervious to their attentions. All he wanted to was to feel high while he worked and low when he was done, walk the 9 blocks back to his studio, and read graphic novels without worrying about preparing for the next stage in life. He might not act like a falcon under stress, but there was definitely a primal relief to his current life.