Chapter 25
I reach down to Quinn’s breast and release the clamps on her nipples. She looks down in shock, I guess because she forgot they were still there. She bites her lip from the painful return of sensation in her breasts. Shifting in place on top of me causes her to grimace, likely realizing she’s still got that plug in her ass. I swallow a grin, deciding to leave that alone for now.
Get serious, man. This is important.
“You know I hated you when you arrived at Walker,” I say. “You weren’t just another prisoner to me. Making you suffer was personal.”
Quinn goes still, her eyes darting back and forth, processing what I’ve said. “Why?”
“Because Lance was my friend. Or, I used to think he was.”
She nods. “You thought?”
“When you told me what really happened that night, what you said made me rethink some… occurrences with Lance I’d written off as isolated incidents, rather than a pattern. He’d always been a player, but there were a few times where he crossed a line. I should have seen it sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“Thanks,” she says. “It’s not always easy to see when it’s someone we’re close to.”
“Well… we weren’t that close. I thought we were, but I was fooling myself. I’ve thought a lot lately how if he was really a friend, he’d have invited me to that party. I’d have stopped him from attacking you and your friend… and we’d have met under normal circumstances.”
Quinn smiles. “Yes, that would have been nice… although then you’d still be in the dark about Lance, about his father and the others. If there’s any silver lining about my being here, it’s helping you see the truth about them.”
“About Lance,” I correct. “And now Byron, I suppose. But if Darren knew what his son was up to, he would have been furious.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Quinn snorts. “Prescott didn’t give a shit about his son. He told me so himself.”
That can’t be true. Bristling, I lift Quinn off of me and set her down on the bed. “Darren might not be father of the year, but I happen to know he cares about Lance. If he didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
Quinn’s face darkens as she finds a comfortable position lying on her side. “Tell me.”
I sigh, dredging up the memory of the night I met Darren for the first time. “When I was in my early twenties I was a dishwasher and delivery driver for my dad’s pizzeria. I also sold weed to my friends on the side.”
“Really?” she says, brushing her hair back. “I never would have imagined.”
“It wasn’t a big deal — the restaurant’s other driver, Frankie, was my supplier. I knew Lance from high school, though I was a couple years ahead of him, we had some mutual friends and he became one of my customers. So when he was home for the summer doing fuck all, he’d invite me to his dad’s mansion to party. I’d bring weed and everyone would be happy to see me. It was great. I thought Lance was my friend, but in retrospect, he probably just saw me as his dealer.”
“Sounds like he was an asshole back then too,” Quinn says.
“Yeah, but I didn’t have any other real friends, so I didn’t think about it. I probably should have known that a rich congressman’s son wouldn’t slum it with a guy like me without a good reason, but what did I know? His crowd was cool, and it felt good to be part of it. I was too young to know any better.”
“So that’s how you met Prescott?” she asks.
“Sort of. We met because of a bad decision — my whole life could have been completely different if not for it.”
I hate fucking thinking about it. If I’d just told Lance no for once…
“It started because Lance had the hots for this girl he knew from school, Alicia Korchynsky…”
—
After a night of driving around town, only to spend another three hours cleaning up at Nick’s, I’m dead on my feet. At least there’s a hundred and fifty bucks in my pocket from the tips.
Hey, is it on? Lance texts me at eleven.
I down a Stacker shot and respond, Yeah, on my way.
It takes ten minutes to drive out of the center of town, through the neighboring village and into the Flintlock Estates. The guard at the neighborhood gate waves me through, seeing the Nick’s logo on my car.
Lance’s house looks like it should be the home of a movie star, located in Beverly Hills, not some Philly suburb. Manicured hedges, three-car garage, heated in-ground pool — can’t ask for much more. His dad’s a congressman, but everyone here knows he’s rich because he owns the prisons. The irony of being here to sell his son drugs isn’t lost on me.
Flintlock Estates feels fucking spooky at night. The houses are all lit up, but there’s no one outside. With the community gated, there’s no traffic on the road. Rolling with the windows down, all I hear are crickets and lawn sprinklers.
I text Lance to let him know I’ve arrived. There’s not much point, but I’m nervous. I’m paranoid, even though now I’m golden — I got here without getting pulled over, I got Frankie’s envelope in a pizza box. Even if Lance has nosy neighbors — which I’m sure he does — all they’re gonna see is a dude with a pizza going to see his friend. Bypassing the front door, I head straight around back, finding Lance by the pool.
“Hey man!” he says when he sees me, getting up from his chaise lounge. Water drips from his swim trunks and his feet leave dark footprints on the concrete. “You made it!”
“Yeah, of course,” I reply, hearing a splash. Taking a quick look, I spot a blur swimming below the pool’s surface. “That her?”
“Oh yeah. I’d have been fucked if you hadn’t delivered. Hey, Alicia!” he shouts. “Pizza’s here! Reed, there’s spare trunks inside. Can you stay a while?”
“Sweet, man. Yeah, work’s done for the day.”
Lance laughs as Alicia bounces over, toweling off her long, black hair. I can see why Lance went to all the trouble: she’s smoking hot, especially in that size-too-small black bikini. If Lance didn’t have dibs, I’d be throwing her over my knee and spanking that ass so hard it’d wake the whole neighborhood.
“This your guy?” she asks.
“Reed, Alicia. Alicia, Reed. Dude, show us what you got.”
I barely have the misshapen manila envelope out of the pizza box before Lance grabs it and tears it open, spilling out a small plastic baggie. He picks it up and inspects it like he knows one white powder from any other.
“You really came through, man,” he says. “I didn’t think you could do it.”
I shrug like it was no big deal. Frankie gave me a lecture about leaping from selling weed to cocaine, but I promised it would be a one-time thing.
Reed hands the bag to Alicia. “Will this work?”
“Yeah, but where’s yours?” she says.
Lance and I laugh, but she doesn’t.
“I’m good,” I say. “I don’t use my own shit, you know?”
Alicia rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She grabs the envelope from Reed and lays it on the table, then pours the coke out onto it. “Lance, get my purse.”
Grinning, Lance fetches it. She gets out a credit card and starts pushing the powder into long lines. The hairs on my arms rise. I’ve never seen coke used, other than on TV, and it’s a bit surreal. Once she finishes, Alicia wastes no time, bringing her face down to the envelope and snorting a line.
“Fuck yeah,” she says. “That’s primo shit, Lance.”
“Nice,” he grunts, taking the envelope. He leans in and snorts a line, then rears back, gasping. “Holy shit.” He practically falls back into his seat, shaking his head. “Wow, that’s fucking crazy.”
Alicia laughs. “You’re such a noob. You said you’ve done this before, fucking liar.”
Lance grins but doesn’t say anything. He lies back in the chaise lounge, taking long, deep breaths.
“You good, man?” I ask with a laugh. I’ve seen him get high a million times, but this is clearly different.
“Yeah,” he replies at last. “This shit is crazy.”
“That’s the spirit,” Alicia says, bending over to snort another line.
Lance turns to her, his lips straightening. “How much of that are you doing?”
“Uh, all of it. Trust me, if that’s really your first time, you’re fine.”
“You don’t want to save any for later?” he asks, eyeing the lines.
Alicia shrugs. “You’ll get more.”
“Damn right,” Lance says, taking Alicia’s hand. “I’m gonna get a lot.”
I turn away. Frankie’s gonna say I told you so, but I’ll worry about that later.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” Alicia snaps as Lance grabs at her ass. “One more, then I’ll be ready.”
Lance lets her go, lifting his hands in the air in surrender. “All right, all right, do your thing. Reed, give us some privacy.”
“Uh, okay? But, like, what am I supposed to do?” I ask as Alicia snorts her third line.
“I don’t know man,” he says. “Go for a swim?”
They both laugh, and Alicia shrieks when Lance pounces on her. I step aside, heading for the pool cabinet.
Fuck it.
I will go for a swim. After changing into the spare trunks, I hustle out and dive in. When I surface I can hear Alicia’s moans, so I swim deep. The water feels amazing at least — I don’t think I’ve ever had a pool to myself. I’ve never had the freedom to swim laps back and forth, propelling myself along effortlessly. I could probably keep it up for hours-
Which is more than I can say for Lance!
Underwater I smile, letting some air bubbles out through my teeth. Considering how bad he’s wanted her, he’s gonna finish with Alicia way too fast. Still, he’ll be happy — and if she’s enjoying the coke, how mad can she be if he doesn’t make her come?
Shit.
He’s gonna ask for coke again. Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll only do it if Alicia has a friend for me. I’m not gonna be a bystander every time. I’m not gonna cock block a friend, but he’s gotta at least be my wingman. Otherwise, he can find another dealer. I’m not gonna-
“Reed! Reed! Reed!”
I hear it garbled through the water and stop mid-stroke. Breaking through the surface, I see Lance standing at the edge of the pool.
“Dude, come quick!”
“What is it?” I ask, climbing out. Chilled by the cool night air blowing against my wet body and Lance’s pale expression, I start shivering immediately.
“Fucking Alicia snorted the rest of it man. She’s not waking up!”
No no no.
I break into a run, reaching her side. I tap her cheeks rapidly, trying to wake her.
“Call 9-1-1!” I shout.
Lance watches me as he paces. “Dude, I can’t.”
Pressing my fingers to Alicia’s neck, I feel a light thump. “She’s alive, man. Call a fucking ambulance!”
Lance shakes his head, growing whiter by the second. “My dad’ll kill me,” he squeaks.
“Dude, get your phone and call. Now!”
“I can’t! Reed, you don’t know my dad. You do not fuck with him during an election. He’ll kill me, and you, if he finds out we-”
“Shut up,” I grunt, running for my clothes. I take out my phone and start dialing.
—
“Nolan, Reed!”
“Here,” I say, looking up at the cop calling my name. I’ve been handcuffed, sitting on a bench in the precinct for more than an hour.
“Come with me,” he says, grabbing me by the arm. Overweight, bald and ugly, he walks fast, forcing me to keep up. My heart pounds, sick with adrenaline. It’s barely slowed since the paramedics arrived, followed by the cops.
“How’s she doing?” I ask as he leads me toward a brown door marked I-1.
“Quiet,” he spits, unlocking the interrogation room. He drags me in and sits me down on an uncomfortable metal seat that’s bolted to the floor. I expect the cop to start questioning me, but instead he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
What the fuck is this? What do they have to question me about?
For a few minutes I sit, sweating, trying not to overthink the situation. Then the door opens and a man comes in. I know who he is.
“Mr. Prescott,” I say, nodding. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Lance’s dad pulling some strings and making this all disappear. He could do that, couldn’t he? I should be thrilled that he’s here, but his face tells me he’s sure as fuck not about to grant me a get-out-of-jail-free card. He regards me with icy blue eyes a long time before speaking.
“You’re a friend of Lance’s?” he asks, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over the chair facing me.
“I am.”
He nods, taking a seat. “He threw you under the bus, said the coke was all your idea, he didn’t know about it.”
That motherfucker.
“I’m not an idiot,” the man says. “You’d think as a politician’s son Lance would be a better liar.” He smiles and waits for me to laugh, but I’m still too pissed off at Lance to joke around.
“Lance said not to call or you’d kill him,” I say.
Prescott nods. “That I believe. How come you didn’t listen?”
“Alicia was OD-ing. I couldn’t let her die. Did she make it?”
“She did, yeah. So, congratulations. You saved a life. You should be proud.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
Neither of us speak for a moment; I don’t know what else there is to say.
“Reed, you’re going to tell the judge that Lance’s story is true,” says Prescott. “He didn’t know you were going to bring drugs, you’ve never done that before. You pressured him and the girl into doing the coke and Lance was the one who finally called the police.”
At first I feel like I’m having a stroke. My vision blurs, my heart redlines and I feel a stab in my side.
“I called the police,” I mumble, playing out the scenario. “My voice will be on-”
“No one’s going to hear that,” says Prescott, his voice calm and level like this is just another day at the office. “You’re going to take the blame for this completely, and Lance will be off the hook. You’ll get probation, maybe weekend jail. In return, I’ll give you a job in my prison system as a guard, and you’ll do a better job of keeping Lance out of trouble from now on.”
I’m going to-
A job in-
What?
“I’m headed for the hospital to see Lance and his druggie slut girlfriend,” says Prescott. He gets up and throws on his jacket. “You’re a smart guy, Reed Nolan. My son needs a friend like you. So, what’ll it be?”
—
When I finish the story, Quinn stares at me, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You took the deal,” she says.
“Yeah. I took it.”