Josh

 

 

Business is booming. With Christmas closing in and the end of the term just days away, kids are freaking out. I’m one of them. Doing business with the Due has taken up more of my time than I expected. I haven’t been paying as much attention to school this term as I should have been. A lot of that is my fault. If Raw and I aren’t working, we’re hanging out. Drinking. Partying. He’s teaching me about bikes, showing me how to work on one, pushing me closer and closer to the decision to buy. The crazy thing is, I can almost afford it. Last month, I was able to pay off the loan the Due gave me, opening up more of my profits for other things like power and water. Milk in my fridge. Heat in my house. I’m actually torn between what to buy first – a bike or a bed. The way I’ve been living lately, I think I’d get more use out of the bike.

“We going to Ritchie’s tomorrow?” Raw asks, rocking his beer back and forth on the bar. “We’re running low on Adderall.”

“No, I know. You’re right. We should go in.”

“Too bad we can’t go now. Shit is dead in here.”

“‘I’m not a Walgreens’,” I quote, mimicking Ritchie’s slightly slurred speech. “‘If you want an all-night pharmacy, go to Vegas’.”

Raw smiles, shaking his head. “He’s such an old dick. I want to be just like him someday.”

“Alone and drunk?”

“I’m halfway there already.”

“That’s pretty dark for you, dude. Is this a cry for help? Am I missing the signs?”

“Nah, I’m tight. Quit worrying.”

“Do I look worried?”

He glances at me, smirking. “Kinda. You always look a little worried, though. Or like you gotta take a shit. I can never tell which.”

I laugh, sitting forward to lean on the bar. “I’m not worried and I don’t need to take a shit.”

“I don’t know then, brother. You’re a fuckin’ mystery, I guess.”

“I hear women like a little mystery.”

“They also like a big dick, but you work with what God gave you.”

“Fuck you, Mark.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “Did I tell you she finally called me?”

“Who did?”

“Becky.”

“With the beautiful blue eyes?” I mock.

“And a mouth like a Dyson, yeah. We’ve hooked up a couple times.” He smiles affectionately, shaking his head. “She’s wild, man.”

“The quiet ones always are.”

“She likes it on the bike with the engine running. It gets her going.”

“I don’t need to know this.”

“I didn’t say you did. I just felt like sharing.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

He shrugs, looking up at the TV hanging behind the bar. “Just because you’re not getting any doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t have stories.”

I feel like screaming at him, but it’s not his fault. He doesn’t know the buttons he’s pushing. He doesn’t know I’ve been blue balled since I had Harlow half-naked in the kitchen with my mouth on her skin and her legs around my waist. She was wet for me. I could feel it where her thin sweats were pushed against my bare stomach. So hot and eager.

Then she shut it down. She lied to me and I haven’t gotten over that. I haven’t talked to her other than hello and goodbye, and it’s killing me inside. I’m torn up and turned out over her, worse than I’ve ever been.

My phone beeps on the bar. It’s a text from Harrison.

I glance at the time, frowning.

“What’s the matter?” Raw asks.

“I got an order from my relay. It’s for tonight, but I never deal after midnight. He knows that.”

“How big is it?”

“Not that big. About three hundred.”

“Might as well. What else have we got going on?”

My frown deepens, my stomach knotting. “I don’t know. The last time I broke one of my rules, Bryan happened.”

“Well, Bryan isn’t happening again. That’s why you roll with me now, right? We’ll be in and out, no problem.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I text Harrison back, telling him to have the buyer meet me in half an hour in front of the grocery store on Main. “We better get going. We need to be downtown in half an hour and we have to stop by the house to get the goods.”

Raw drains the last of his beer before smacking it down on the bar. “Let’s roll!”

Skeeze looks up from the corner booth in the back. “Where are you guys going?”

“To work.”

“Another party?”

I shrug. “Could be. The order is big enough.”

“You mind if I tag along?”

“We’re not actually going to a party. We’re just meeting up with someone who might be going to one.”

“Yeah, but I might score an invite.” He stands, closing in on the bar. “Come on. I’m bored out of my fuckin’ mind.”

Raw looks uncertain. “Devo and Kill are in Oregon. Who else is here tonight?”

“They’re in Washington until Saturday,” Harlow corrects from behind the bar. She glances at me briefly – for one charged, confused second – before turning all her attention to Raw. “Bear and Hyde are in the back.”

“This place is dead,” Skeeze argues. “They can handle it.”

“Take him, please,” Harlow pleads with Raw. “He’s like a pent-up puppy when he’s like this. He’ll drive me crazy all night if you leave him here.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ve got a baseball bat and a Glock under the bar,” she tells him dryly. “I’ll be fine. But Skeeze won’t be if you leave him with me.”

“It hasn’t been that long since The Black Hawks were here,” I remind her.

She looks at me then. Like, full on looks at me, acknowledging my existence and everything. It’s strangely thrilling. “If I hear bikes roll up out front, I’ll hit the panic button. Bear and Hyde will be out here in a heartbeat.”

“Alright, we’ll take him,” Raw agrees, “but you owe me.”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

“I want your hottest friend.”

Harlow grins slyly. “Josh, I’m gonna need you to fuck Raw for me.”

“Finally!” I reach for Raw’s face, my eyes half-closed. “Come on, baby. Let’s do this.”

Raw punches me in the stomach. He pulled it, it wasn’t full strength, but that shit still hurts like hell. I double over, laughing and groaning.

“Let’s go make some money and pull some pussy!” Skeeze shouts excitedly. He’s already heading toward the back, leaving us behind.

Raw points at Harlow. “We’ll settle this later.”

“It’s already done. Josh is your man.”

“Fuck that!”

“That’s the idea!” she laughs after him.

I pull myself up to full height, following the guys out of the bar.

I’m almost to the hall when Harlow calls, “Be careful, Stratford.”

I freeze midstride, turning to look back at her.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” she reminds me, her eyes watching me closely. “Weird shit always happens on a full moon. Be smart.”

“I will,” I promise. “You too, okay?”

She smiles, the expression brushing aside whatever seriousness was building between us. “I’m fast. I don’t have to be smart.”

 I grin, waving goodbye to her. Wishing we were like this all the time, the way we used to be.

But that’s the fucker of asking for more; you run the risk of losing everything.

I’m relieved when I get out back and find Skeeze and Raw waiting for me in the truck. I was worried I’d have to ride bitch on the back of Raw’s bike the way I usually do, and that shit is emasculating.

When we get to my house, I tell Raw to leave the engine running. And the heat. I’ve gotten addicted to being warm since I turned the power back on in the house. I never want to be without it again.

“I’ll run in and fill the order,” I tell Raw. “It’ll just take a minute.”

Skeeze jumps out with me, following close on my heels. “Hold up. I want to see behind the curtain.”

“You what?”

“I want to see how this shit is done. When you walk away, it might be me doing this with Raw. I need to know how it works.”

“Just let him go with you,” Raw drawls, bored with the subject. “He won’t shut up about it until you do.”

I give in, not really giving a shit.

I unlock the door, pushing it open with a quick nudge from my shoe. I’m about to open my mouth to remind Skeeze we’re only taking what we’re selling, that there will be no ‘samples’, when I feel it in my spine; something is wrong.

My phone pings loudly in my pocket.

Shadows shift to my right.

“Get back!” I shout at Skeeze just as a hand goes tight around my throat, dragging me inside the house.

“The fuck?!” Skeeze yells behind me.

I hear a meaty thud and a whoosh of air that can only be Skeeze taking a hit to the diagram. I also hear a car door slam. A shout from the street. Boots on the sidewalk and on the hardwood inside the house. There’s at least three of them. Probably more.

The guy who has me tosses me on the ground, immediately mounting me. I throw punches at his shadow hovering over me, but he’s leaned in too close to get a good hit. I can smell booze on his breath and something else, something sour and saccharine sweet, almost rotten. He grabs at my neck again, but he’s not reaching for my throat. He’s going for my chain. He’s looking for the key to the cabinets.

I plant my feet, dig my hands into his armpits, and thrust up with my hips as hard as I can. The move sends his body up into the air, if just for a second, but it’s all the time I need. With my arms, I’m able to send him the rest of the distance. He flies face first off of me and into the floor with a loud, angry grunt.

I immediately roll to the side, up onto my knees. The guy is still scrabbling to right himself. On my left, Raw is pummeling a second guy on the floor while a third leaps onto his back. And even with that, I don’t feel like he needs my help. He’s that talented of a fighter that being overpowered two-to-one doesn’t seem like an issue. On my right, Skeeze is wrestling with a fourth guy on the ground. I see the flash of a blade in the streetlight leaking in through the open doorway, and I know immediately that he does need help.

I stand, running toward Skeeze. I kick as hard as I can at his opponent’s hand, knocking the blade free. It skitters across the floor, disappearing under the couch. Without it in the way, Skeeze immediately grabs the guy’s face and head butts him hard. His forehead breaks the cartilage in the guy’s nose with a sickening snap! that echoes through the empty house.

“Get the goddamn necklace!” Number One shouts. He makes another run at me, but I dodge him easily. It’s dark in here, darker than they probably expected it to be, and no one knows the terrain like I do.

No one knows there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the coffee table.

I lunge for it, nearly sighing with relief when I feel the cold steel against my sweating palm.

Number One, or maybe Number Five for all I know, grabs me from behind. He’s scratching at my neck, drawing blood as he tries to get his fingers around the chain hanging there. I spin around, raising my hand holding the gun. I pistol whip him across the face.

He drops to the ground in a moaning lump of useless.

In the doorway I can see Raw has taken care of Number Two and moved on to the monkey on his back; Number Three. He flips the guy over his shoulder, smashing him down onto his back on the floor like a WWE star. The air flies out of the guy’s lungs painfully. Dude’s not getting up any time soon.

Number Five; another man in black with a knife in his hand is making a run at Raw in the doorway. I take a deep breath, hold it, and track the guy with the barrel of the gun. It’s dark. He’s moving quickly. I might miss and kill him on accident, but still I take the shot because I’m not about to let him near Raw with that knife.

I fire, the room exploding in a flash of light and gunpowder. Number Five barks in pain, spinning on his toes as he clutches his shoulder. I got him right where I wanted him.

Raw ducks down, not sure where the gunfire is coming from. Number Five is able to bolt past him out the door, followed by Number Two.

“Anybody hurt?” I ask the room.

Raw stands, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good. Skeeze?”

“Barely a scratch.”

Raw eyes me and my gun for a second before surveying the room. He kicks at the guy on the ground at his feet, rolling him over until he can see his back in the streetlight outside.

“Black Hawks,” he growls, his chest heaving with exertion and energy. “Prospects.”

I nod, feeling lightheaded and breathless. “They came for the drugs.”

“Fuckers!” Skeeze shouts. He kicks the guy on the ground next to me. He folds in half like a piece of paper, curling in around Skeeze’s shoe.

“What do we do?” I ask Raw. “I have nosey neighbors. Someone called the cops. I can guarantee it.”

He nods slowly, looking over the guys on the ground. There are three of them. One by his feet is definitely unconscious. The other is coming around, catching his breath. Raw kneels down, grabs him by the scruff of his neck, and shoves him against the doorframe. He yanks a knife from his boot, planting it deep in the guy’s thigh with one quick shove.

“Ahh!” he cries in pain.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Raw warns him low and angry. “And tell your Pres that if you assholes ever show up at our door again, we’ll send you home in pieces.”

Raw twists the knife in the wound roughly before pulling it out. The guy collapses onto his knees, gagging in pain.

“Go,” Raw commands.

The guy crawls out the door and stumbles off the porch. Raw watches intently as he limps quickly over the lawn before disappearing into the dark down the street.

Raw points at me. At my neck. “Unlock the cabinets. Clean ‘em out. Skeeze and I will take it back to the club and hide it. When the cops get here, you’re clean. You came home from a night hanging out with friends on campus. You’re drunk. You can’t remember where. These guys tried to kill you. You have no idea why.”

“If the cops get their hands on them, they’ll plea bargain. They’ll tell them we’re selling scripts and we’ll have the Opal PD up our asses for months watching to see if it’s true.”

“Is that gun legal?”

“Yeah.”

“Give it to me.”

I hand it over without question. Raw checks the clip. He snaps it back in.

He fires two shots – one into each of the Prospect’s heads.

I stare in stunned amazement, my ears ringing. Still echoing the sound of the gunshots that just killed two men in my living room.

Raw wipes the gun down with the bottom of his shirt, handing it back to me.

“What’s the story?” he asks me calmly.

I look at my feet. At the blood pooling black as ink around my shoes.

“Strat!” Raw snaps.

I look up at him obediently.

“What’s the story?”

“They broke in,” I recite. “I came home to find them here. They tried to kill me. I don’t know why.”

“Good. Keep saying it over and over in your head until they get here. Keep it simple and keep it straight. And quit looking at the fucking bodies. I’ll only rattle you.”

“Are they gonna buy it?”

“They have to. It’s the only explanation we’re giving them.” He gestures to my neck again. “Come on, hurry up. Skeeze and I need to get the fuck out of here. We have to go check on the club.”

Just like that, my shock turns to dread.

What if they made the order to draw us out? To leave the club vulnerable. What if right now the place is being ambushed?

What if they have Harlow?