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I hated selling drugs. Hated doing Charlie’s dirty work. I’d managed to get myself in such a position I could hand off deals to runners. It wasn’t often I did the grunt work and sold to punters. Tonight, I was meeting an old customer, a regular client I’d dealt with for years, and I felt safe enough I wouldn’t end up in handcuffs.

Handing over a fat baggy of coke to Malc, the guy who was standing less than a foot away from me in a dingy alleyway behind a Chinese takeaway. I fought off the gag, the mingled smells of piss, trash and food made my stomach roll.

“This ain’t that shit the kid od’d on yesterday, is it?”

“What kid?”

I’d been in my flat since getting back from Ayden’s, hadn’t spoken to anyone, trying to figure out my goddamned life. How I could get Sophie and me out of the shit I was currently standing in knee-deep and sinking.

“He bought some gear off Shorty last weekend. Maybe took too much, I dunno. Found the guy cold in his mum’s shed yesterday. Od’d, man.”

My phone had been silent, apart from the copious replies from Ayden. All the replies. It had been my turn to ignore, too many what if’s and disaster scenarios trundling through my head. I wasn’t ready for another rejection.

“My shit ain’t tainted, Malc. How long you been coming to me?”

“Yeah, but Shorty’s one of your guys.” He argued a valid point.

“Then he stepped on the coke himself. I don’t do that. You’ve never had bad gear from me.”

“True. So, I’m just gonna get high and not dead when I stick it up my nose?” he laughed, pocketing the baggy without looking at it, showing his trust.

“Just high. Maybe look at stopping that shit, huh?”

“What you saying, man?” He eyed me with scepticism.

“Nothing. Just...” I paused and looked around warily. “You been taking that crap a long time. Years and a lot of it. Maybe time to get off it?”

He huffed at me. “Listen, I know you don’t use but don’t judge me about my habits, all right? I hold down a decent job, keep a girl and fucking mind my own business. I like getting high. My bird likes it too. So, if it’s all the same to you, Gripp, mind your own.”

“I hear you. Sorry, dude.” I held my hands in the air. “Just watch who you’re buying off then. I know you get elsewhere sometimes. I’ll track that little prick down and have a word. Find out what the score is.”

He slapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, mate.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Pulling out my phone when Malc disappeared around the end of the alleyway, I peered down at the lit-up screen when I turned it on. A fleeting panic came over me when I realised I hadn’t heard from Boomer this last day. He’d been silent in the car when we’d left Sophie’s, hadn’t even said bye when he’d got out. His way of dealing with situations he didn’t like was to get shit faced on copious amounts of blow and sink himself into some skanky pussy.

Shorty could wait, Boomer was getting a visit.

The brisk walk to his flat took twenty minutes, I didn’t bother calling, and had the key to his flat, so I could just let myself in. I didn’t give a fuck what I walked in on. Anything was possible. When I eventually unlocked his door and shoved through into his living room, I got an eyeful of double d tits and Boomer nailing a pretty club bunny I recognised, over the arm of his scuffed-up recliner. I should have called.

I plonked onto the couch. “Don’t mind me,” I mumbled as I sank my head back into the rough material and closed my eyes. The room was too quiet. Boomer fucking the chick was too quiet. She wasn’t moaning or over dramatically screaming like she usually did, and he wasn’t making a sound either. I opened my eyes to be met with Boomer throttling her, his hands tight around her throat, her mouth wide and her eyes begging.

“Hey, man. What the fuck are you doing?”

Boomer kept going, ignoring me, like he hadn’t even realised I’d come into the room. He let out a harsh grunt and grabbed the woman’s hair far too roughly for my liking. Jumping up, I pushed at him and as he fell to the side I watched with disgusted fascination as his cock leaked strings of cum when he fell on his back laughing, his hands grabbing for his balls.

The bunny slumped forward, gasping for air. “Fuck...” she groaned, “thanks, Gripp.” I threw the towel over her that had been draped over the back of the recliner then kicked Boomer’s leg.

“Get the fuck up, idiot.”

Searching around the tip of a room I found his not so secret drug stash laying on his table, the baggy almost empty. I scooped it up anyway, pocketing it. Grabbing a damp cloth from the kitchen, I wiped up the residue and kicked Boomer again when I walked past.

His kitchen was a fucking pig sty and I felt sick just looking at it. I braced myself against the counter and dropped my head to my chin. What kind of friend was I? That I let my closest mate slowly kill himself with drugs and poor decisions, let him live in a place that was a health hazard. Something had to give. Our lives were unravelling at an alarming rate, surely there was better out there for the likes of us.

Time to get out, Shaun.

Filling his kettle with water, I hunted around for some mugs that resembled clean, ignoring the full sink of dishes and the shit that had been left for days. Boomer wasn’t staying here any longer than he had to, this was no way to live.

Dragging my arse back into his tiny living room with two mugs of scalding hot coffee, I was thankful the strip bunny had the semblance to dress. Looking more than worse for wear, she picked up a sparkly purse from the windowsill and left without another word. Boomer still lay on the floor, his flaccid cock looking red and sore. No condom by the looks of it either. The guy was playing with goddamned fire. What was with these stupid fucking arseholes?

I banged the cups on the table then moved to Boomer, leaning down over him. “Get up, fucker.” He groaned, making no attempt to shift. “If I have to move you, trust me - you’ll have bruises, dick head. Get the fuck up!”

Hunting around the room, I found semi clean sweatpants in the corner. Picking them up, I threw them at him, watching his lame effort to sit up. “This fucking stops, dude,” I growled. “No more.”

Ten minutes later, Boomer was propped against his chair, half dressed and sipping the now tepid coffee. He wouldn’t hold eye contact when I looked at him.

“Shorty stepped on his gear with something. A kid died. You know that?” He shook his head, sipping more coffee. “You stepping on yours?”

“Nah, man.”

“Of course not. You’re shoving it up your nose instead of punting it out. Hardly anything left to sell.” He snorted at me, and as if to prove a point, a drop of blood dripped from his nose, dribbling across his top lip. I looked away in disgust, a trace of fear tickling at me. This fucker was gonna die if he wasn’t careful. “It’s time to get out, Boomer.”

His laugh was loud and caustic, and I wanted to do the same, because it really did sound ridiculous, but I wasn’t finding it funny anymore. “And do what, Gripp?”

I had no answer to his question, not right then anyway, but something was brewing. I was determined not to live this way any longer than I needed to.

“I think I got a plan...”

* * *

When a guy held a gun to your head, you had to be certifiably crazy to go back to the scene of the crime. That’s exactly what I was doing. Nobody ever said my balls weren’t big enough.

The bouncers hadn’t been gentle with their pat down searches when we entered the door to the club, noticing we were the only ones asked to turn out our pockets. I’d told Boomer he had to be clean when we got there, needed him sharp. Seemed he’d listened, didn’t even look high. The likelihood of a bullet in the head was slim but didn’t mean I’d be walking out unscathed. This club owner meant business, hopefully he’d afford me some time and hear me out. If he didn’t, I had no clue where to go next. My choices were non-existent, the owner I’d pinned my hopes on, the only thin thread I could think of.

“One beer, that’s it, dude.” I eyed Boomer, who nodded in agreement. I hadn’t filled him in because honestly, I didn’t have a solid plan, only a glimmer of hope that maybe this owner guy would offer some answers, some optimism.

“Let’s fucking hope the guy’s here,” he mumbled, trying to hail the bartender. The club was hopping, busy as fuck, maybe a Friday night was the wrong time for a sit down?

When the bartender finally appeared in front of us, I slouched across the bar and crooked a finger at him, urging him closer. “The boss in?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Gripp,” I said. His eyes widened, and he nodded his head in recognition of my name. “See if he’s got a minute for me, yeah?”

“Gimme a sec.”

He moved to the back of the bar, eyeing me through the mirror as he picked up the phone on the wall. After a conversation that seemed to last an eternity the tender came back to me.

“He’ll see you. Just you. The bouncers cleared you, yeah?” I tipped my head. “Okay.” He pointed down the dark hall away from the bar. “Last door.” He turned to Boomer, dismissing me. “What you having, mate?”

Leaving them to it, I made the long walk toward my sink or swim, the only thread of hope I’d managed to come up with, praying I wouldn’t get another gun shoved in my face. Or a broken nose.

The owner wasn’t sitting behind an obnoxious desk like Charlie always did. No, when I answered the quiet ‘come in,’ he was sitting on a comfy chair off to the side of the office space. He stood when I entered and held out his hand. Funny I hadn’t noticed he had just as many tattoos as I did the first time I’d met him.

“Better circumstances, I hope.”

Shaking his offered hand, I relaxed with the courtesy he extended. I was a rough son of a bitch, didn’t mean I wasn’t appreciative of manners. “Maybe.”

He pointed toward the empty chair, “Take a seat, Gripp. Then you can tell me why you’re here.” His smile was easy, looked less threatening than previously. As relaxed as I felt, the nerves still pulled at me, this guy had every right to throw me out on my ear and make my life hell. “My name’s Ryder, by the way. If you prefer formalities, then it’s Mr. Laurent. Something tells me that’s not your style though.”

“My sister’s pregnant,” I blurted out.

Surprise registered on his face. “Ah, okay. Well, I’m a happily married man. If your sister got knocked up, trust me, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” he laughed. “I’d have no balls left if I so much as looked at another woman, never mind fucked one.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not saying that.”

“Then what, Shaun? Can I call you Shaun? Gripp seems so...” he didn’t finish his sentence, didn’t need to.

“Fine. My sister’s pregnant. You know what I do. I can’t be living this life anymore. I need out.” He eyed me for a long while, looking for the lie, I presumed. “I know you don’t approve.”

“What exactly is it I can do?”

“Your beef is personal with Charlie?”

He smirked at me. “Oh yeah. He makes that known does he? Let me tell you something. What you do for him is what he had in mind for me when I was a young boy.”

“Is that so?”

“Here’s the thing,” he shifted in his seat, “you don’t get to walk away. I’m sure you already know that. How do I know he hasn’t sent you? That this...” he waved his hand at me, “...is his way of getting back at me? I left a very long time ago, something he still holds a grudge over. He doesn’t forget.”

“He didn’t send me.”

“Convince me, then.”

See, the thing about Charlie was he trusted no one. I’d been under him for so long he’d become complacent a time or two. I knew things I probably shouldn’t have, things he probably didn’t know I did. “I know where his drugs come in.”

“Really?”

“And when,” I added.

“What’s your thinking?” Ryder relaxed back in his chair, steepling his crossed fingers under his chin, scrutinising me.

“Either taking down the supply or taking down Charlie. A kid died from some of his gear, and I’m not down with that no matter who stepped on it. His threats about my sister are becoming far too frequent for my liking, it’s only a matter of time. I can’t have her hurt. My best friend is an addict, a junkie because he deals. I want him sober, not dead.” I took a breath and started up again. “I can’t do it on my own, I dunno where to go, who to trust. I’m sick of it all. I’m gonna end up six feet under before I’m thirty, leaving Sophie with no one.”

The silence in the room lasted a long time while he contemplated. Eventually he stood and began pacing the room. “Where’s his gear?”

Jesus, I was jumping in at the deep end without a buoy to keep me afloat. Handing it to him on a plate without any guarantees for Sophie or myself. “You keep my sister safe, I’ll tell you what you wanna know. Everything.”

“Okay, first thing we get straight, and I’m not fucking messing around here,” Ryder grabbed the back of the chair, swinging it into position in front of me before sitting back down. “If I agree to help you and Charlie gets the slightest sniff, he’ll go after your boy out there first, as a warning. Then he’ll hit you with your sister. Now, that big guy at the bar can take care of himself, I presume, but your sister won’t get off as lightly. Stay the fuck away from her.”

I knew how dirty Charlie played, had delivered some of it myself to folk that had crossed him or pissed him off. “She’s staying at a friend’s house. I asked him not to let her leave, to keep her there.”

“Second. I need to talk to my business partner because what I do, he invariably becomes involved. His business is mine and mine his. You understand that?”

And there was the timely moment to show him I meant every word. Uncomfortable as it was, this was the first hurdle. “Ah, which one is your business partner?” I knew his answer, but I wanted his confirmation.

“Not the guy who had you in a head lock.” Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Lucca.”

Fuck...

I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. “I know his wife.” Ryder remained silent, waiting me out. There was nothing to do but tell the truth. “Twice she handed me a fat envelope full of cash with a picture of her husband in it. Twice I refused. The second time, I made it abundantly clear our acquaintance was over.”

“This was when?”

“Over a year ago now, if I remember right.”

“I see. And I guess you were fucking about with her? Because she’s like that, you know. Handsome young bloke like you, wouldn’t have taken much to get her in bed, especially if she had you in her sights.”

“I guess not. Does he know?”

“He knows all about Stella, Shaun. Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “All right. Can you come back in a day or two? Will it look dodgy coming here two nights in a row? Wait...tomorrow is busy, and we don’t open our doors on a Sunday. Day of rest and all.”

I thought for a moment. It would be easy to explain it to Charlie if he had tabs on me. Maybe if I broached it with him first he’d think nothing of it. “Charlie wants his drugs in your club, wants me to do that. I can go to him tomorrow, tell him I found a weakness maybe, a bouncer or something. That might work, he thinks I’ve been trying to get my foot in for weeks now.”

“You still don’t bring any of that shit into my club. I’m not budging on that.” He stood and moved the chair away. “The bloke at the bar, he know your game?”

“I told him a little, not much. I honestly didn’t have a set plan when I came here.”

“You don’t tell him anymore. Tell him I didn’t go for it. Friend or not, he’s a junkie, a drug addict and no matter what you think of him, he could turn on you for a bag of blow if he’s desperate enough. You’d do well to remember that, Shaun.”

I’d always given Boomer the benefit of the doubt, but in the back of my head I was aware of what Ryder was saying to me. What did that say? That I trusted absolutely no one except my sister, who barely tolerated me at the best of times. I needed a miracle, or I was sinking and drowning.

“Charlie owns a hangar at the airport. That’s a starting point.”

“Tomorrow then.”