by Tracey Ward
Circle of life, man. This town sucks all around.
“Kanye,” Raw points out with disgust as we walk up the path. “They’re bumpin’ fuckin’ Kanye.”
“You want me to see if they’ve got any Credence?”
“You’re messing with me but I’d take you up on that.”
“Just ignore it. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
He looks at me sideways, watching me walk. “You feeling okay? You’re limping more than earlier.”
I wave away his concern. “It’s been a long day. Let’s get these deliveries over with so you can get home to your daughter and I can pass out on my couch.”
“You wanna come back to the club and sleep in a real bed again? You’re a friend of the M.C. now. Bear wouldn’t mind.”
I very seriously consider it. His offer sounds like heaven, but it also sounds like hell. I’d get to sleep in a bed again. I’d get to see Harlow in the morning. But she’d be there with Devo and I wouldn’t be able to get her alone. Besides, I surprised her at the club today. I probably shouldn’t do it again for another day or so. Give her time to adjust to the idea that I’m going to be around without bombarding her. If I overwhelm her, she’ll run. Far and fast, the way she’s good at. I have to be careful about how I pursue her. I have to come on her slow, like a storm gathering offshore.
“Nah, I’ll be fine at home,” I tell Raw. “I don’t like leaving the inventory alone overnight.”
“Smart move.”
“Josh!”
Candace has spotted me from the sagging porch. She waves excitedly, her breasts swaying free under her sparkling red tank top.
“Hello,” Raw murmurs, watching her with a small smile. “Who is this?”
“Candace. She’s a regular.”
“You fuck her?”
“Once,” I admit reluctantly. “It was a mistake.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing. I just don’t put my dick where I deal, you know? And not to be a buzz kill, but didn’t Bear warn you to keep it in your pants?”
“I don’t remember that,” he lies easily.
“No?”
“Nope.”
“Weird.”
“Oh yeah,” he agrees heartily, still eying Candace. “It’s gonna get real weird. Did she buy from us tonight?”
“Yeah. We’re meeting her in fifteen in the gazebo out back.” I pull out my phone to check my schedule. “But first we have to meet up with Kyle in the laundry room. Then Becky by the fire pit.”
Raw surprises me when he turns all business, like flipping a switch. His interest in Candace is instantly erased and he’s laser focused on the task at hand.
“What’s Kyle like? Is he gonna give us trouble?”
I lead him inside, nodding to people who call my name. “He never has before.”
“You want me to play it tough or aloof or what?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, honestly unsure. “I think with the guys we play it aloof. Leave ‘em guessing about you. With the girls, put on the charm, man. Crank it up. They’ll love it.”
“That’s the real reason you had me dress like a damn GAP ad, isn’t it? You’re pimping me.”
“You’re hardly dressed like a GAP ad, but yeah.” I shake the pills in my pocket, smiling over at him. “Sex and candy, brother. That’s what it’s all about.”
Raw laughs, unoffended to be objectified.
When we walk through the house, people turn to look. Conversations slow down. Eyes follow us down the hall to the back rooms. People are painfully aware that we’re here and why. Normally, this kind of attention makes me uncomfortable, but with Raw at my back, I feel pretty okay. I don’t have that underlying anxiety I usually get with a delivery because if shit goes down, I’m not alone. And while this isn’t the business model I imagined when I started out, it’s not the worst thing in the world either.
When we find the laundry room, Kyle is already waiting for us. He’s a lanky guy; tall and thin. Nervous.
I just my chin at him. “What’s up, man?”
“Hey.” He offers me his hand.
I shake it, feeling the sweaty bills scrape against my palm. I fan it for a second in the dim light to count it. He’s good.
I pull a small baggy from my pocket, the kind moms use to pack Goldfish in their kid’s lunchbox, and double check the name written across it. When I know it’s the right one, I shake his hand again, passing the bag off to him.
He smiles, his eyes light with excitement. “Thanks, dude.”
“You got it. Have a good one.”
“You too.”
Kyle’s eyes dart to Raw standing silently behind me. His face falls, his excitement fading for a second. He looks confused, glancing between the two of us before finally darting out of the room and back to the party.
When he’s gone, Raw chuckles into his fist.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“It’s just so damn easy. It’s the easiest job I’ve ever had.” He points to the rest of the house pounding with music and laughter. “What am I protecting you from? The seas parted for us when we walked in. No one’s stepping to us.”
“You wanna quit? I’ll happily keep that extra fifteen percent.”
“Fuck no. I’m in. It’s just cake, that’s all.”
I shrug, checking my phone. “Bear wanted it. Not me. I tried to talk him out of it.”
“You don’t talk Bear out of shit. He talks you into it. That’s the way the Due work, baby.”
I lead him out the backdoor to the patio. We take up a spot by the fire pit to wait for Becky. There are a few other people out here; couples kissing and whispering in shadowy corners of the yard.
“How do your deals usually go?” I ask Raw curiously. “You know, when you’re selling your usual product.”
“Pretty much like this, only not so loud. I’m surprised by how out in the open this all is.”
“It’s not usually. But we had a lot of buyers tonight and I wanted people to see you with me. We’re making a point.”
“You’re showing ‘em you’re untouchable.”
“Basically, yeah.”
He nods, scanning the crowd. “It’s a smart move.” He hits my arm with the back of his hand. “Is this our girl?”
Becky is blond and petite. Pretty. Quiet. I’ve only sold to her a few times but I know her poison – Vicodin. And when she buys, she buys in bulk. I’ve got all ten of the pills I got from the hospital in my pocket with her name on them.
She wrings her hands together nervously when she sees me.
She freezes mid-step when she sees Raw.
“It’s okay,” I promise her quietly. “He’s with me.”
Becky doesn’t come any closer. She eyes us both warily, regret on her face.
I’m legit worried we’re about to lose the sale.
Raw steps around me, offering her his hand. “Hey, mama,” he purrs like a jungle cat. “How’s your night going?”
She takes his hand hesitantly, her eyes running up his arms, following his tattoos to his face. “I’m good. It’s good. I, um… I don’t think—”
“You don’t know me. I’m new. Name’s Mark. What’s yours?”
“Becky.”
“Becky,” he repeats, savoring the sound. Her hand is still inside his. “Beautiful Becky with the blue eyes.”
She laughs nervously. Breathlessly.
Raw grins down at her. “We doin’ this tonight, Becky? ‘Cause if you’re worried, you don’t gotta be. I got you. You’re covered, you hear?”
I don’t know what the fuck he means by that. Becky doesn’t know what the fuck he means by that. I’m pretty sure Raw doesn’t know what the fuck he means by that, but it sounds good to us, so Becky nods with a smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, I hear.”
“Good. Let me get you what you want and you give me what I need, girl.”
Raw releases her to reach behind him, waving his open palm at
me. I immediately hand him the bag with ‘Becky’ scrawled across the front. As Becky digs in her pockets, I silently flash Raw a one-zero-zero with my fingers.
He nods in understanding.
Becky pulls a small roll from her pocket. She goes to shake Raw’s hand again but he embraces her instead. He whispers in her ear as he slides his hand inside the back pocket of her jeans, cupping her ass and leaving the bag behind. She blushes furiously, nodding her head and sliding her hand in the front pocket of his hoodie.
He kisses her cheek chastely as he pulls away, grinning. “You have a good night, Becky. I’ll see you around.”
“See you around,” she giggles, still blushing.
I shake my head as I watch her hurry away into the house.
Raw turns to me with a shit-eating grin. “That’s how my deals usually go,” he announces proudly.
“Even with the dudes?”
He winks at me. “Especially with the dudes.”
Over the course of an hour, we finish up the rest of our deliveries along with five beers and one dance with two very handsy tennis players. I’m sure Raw is going to ditch me to take one or both of them home, but we bail together at around eleven. We listen to Credence Clearwater Revival the whole way home.
The night was a breeze. Raw didn’t have to bust any skulls and my regulars easily accepted him as part of the trade. Especially the women. A few people I’ve never sold to before asked what our deal was, looking for a hook up. I gave them a simple white card with Harrison’s number on it and told them to make a call. I wrote Raw’s phone number on the back and told them to call him if they’re looking for something more herbal.
And that, my friends, is what you call synergy.
Chapter Fifteen
Harlow
“Hello?” I yell into the apartment. I shuffle in clumsily, my arms heavy with shopping bags and two gallon jugs of milk that hang from my frostbitten fingers. “Is anybody home?”
As I step inside, I trigger a candy dish with a skeletal hand in the center. It reaches for me with a subtle whir of the tiny motor and a loud cackle from somewhere inside its mechanics. It’s about the thousandth Halloween decoration that’s yelled at me today, and I’m so over it I nearly knock the damn thing off the table to shut it up. Halloween is only a week away but it can’t come and go soon enough for me.
Footsteps come hurrying down the hall with long, determined strides. I smile when Duke appears; lanky and young, barely fourteen, with dark Devopblovic hair and his dad’s gorgeous blue eyes. I’ve never met the guy but I’ve seen pictures, and damn. The man is smokin’ hot. Duke is going to be a heartbreaker someday.
Nika had him when she was sleeping with the very charming son of the college dean. Nika was seventeen. Prince Charming was twenty-three. To avoid being prosecuted for statutory rape, he paid Nika off. She was young, dumb, and scared, so she took one lump sum and signed away the right to demand child support or anything else for Duke. I’ve heard different stories from different people on how big that lump was, but from the state of the apartment and how often Devo and I have to bail Nika out, I’d say it was never very much.
“Hey, Aunt Harley,” Duke greets me, immediately unhooking the milk jugs from my fingers.
I sigh with relief as I wiggle them back to life. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“Sleeping.”
I pinch my lips together as I follow him into the kitchen. “Have you seen her today?”
“I checked on her before I went to school and when I got home. She’s okay.”
She sleeps all day. All. Day.
She’s not okay.
“Alright, good.” I grunt as I hoist the groceries up onto the counter. I carried them from the truck, up three flights of stairs, and down the long corridor to the apartment. When I release them, my arms feel like Jell-O. Like they’re lighter than they should be, rising up at my sides from muscle memory. “Do you have a lot of homework?”
He shrugs, digging into one of the bags. “Not much. I have to read chapters in a book.”
“What book?”
“The Pigman.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s pretty good, I guess. Except the old guy dies.” Duke frowns as he stacks tuna cans in the cupboard. “That’s a bummer.”
“The classics are like that. Wait until you get to Wuthering Heights. That thing’s a real nut punch.”
“Did you have to read a lot when you were in school?”
“Uh, they definitely wanted me to,” I chuckle.
“But you didn’t want to?”
“I had a hard time with reading.”
“You didn’t like the books?”
“I didn’t like the letters,” I answer reluctantly. I swallow hard, eating my shame. “I have dyslexia. Do you know what that is?”
Duke shakes his head without a word, his eyes tight, and I wish I’d phrased that differently. Two years ago he lost both his grandparents to leukemia and angina. Boom. Boom. One month after the other, dead. Ever since then, he’s been terrified of disease. If you get a cold around the kid he’s waiting for you kick the bucket before the night is through.
“It’s not a big deal,” I tell him casually. “It’s like Ava’s autism. It’s a mental thing. It doesn’t mean we’re sick. It just means we see things different than other people. It was hard for me to learn to read. I’m still pretty slow at it, but I got better with practice. Lots and lots and lots of practice.”
“And you didn’t like practicing in school?”
“I hated it, but then I got a good tutor and it got easier.” I curl my lip up comically at him. “I still think reading blows, though.”
Duke laughs, his face lightening. He’s accepted that I will not die of dyslexia.
“Was Uncle Erik your tutor?”
I laugh hard, nearly doubling over. I’m breathless when I finally answer, “No. Jesus, no. Devo was not a tutor.”
“Why not?”
“Because Devo hated school. He barely went.”
“Did he graduate?”
“Just barely.”
“My mom didn’t.”
“No. She quit to have you, but that’s okay.” I grab his face between my hands, squeezing it affectionately. “You’re better than school.”
He laughs as he gently shakes his face free. “I think she should go back.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yeah. Maybe if… you know, if she goes back to school she might be able to get a job when she’s done. I bet it’d be easier.”
She could get a job now if she got her ass out of bed, I think bitterly, but I keep that shit to myself. That’s something for Devo and Nika to discuss. Again. That’s nothing for Duke to be worrying about.
“I think you’re right, Duke. That’s a good idea.”
He glows under the praise, unloading groceries with a renewed energy. I watch him with a little amazement. He’s the polar opposite of me at that age. Confident and driven, excited about life in ways I still can’t muster. I wonder if it’s the difference in our upbringing or is it just that Duke is better than I am? Even if Nika raised him the way my dad raised me, would Duke have turned out the way he is? Happy and helpful. Eager about everything, especially his Uncle Erik.
We both hear the roar of the motorcycle at the same time, but while I keep unloading groceries, Duke ditches me to run to the door. He leaves it open as he hurries to the stairs. The sound of the engine gets louder as the outside pours in. I hear Duke shout something down to the parking lot.
Down the hall, a door opens and shuts with a bang.
“Hey, Nika!” I shout to her.
“Harley,” she answers groggily. I hear her shuffle in behind me, going to the fridge. “Did you get the orange juice?”
“Yeah, it’s here.”
“I don’t see it.”
I yank it up out of the brown paper bag. “I haven’t unpacked it yet. You wanna he
lp me?”
She takes the juice from me, shaking her head of long, dark hair. She’s older than Devo by eight years but when you see them side-by-side, they look almost the same age.
“I’m still waking up,” she complains. “Give me a few minutes.”
“I’ll be done by then. I gotta get back to the bar for my shift.”
“I heard a bike. Is Erik here?”
“Yeah. Duke ran out to get him.”
“Good. I need to talk to him.”
She’s going to ask him for money. Even as I stand here putting food in her kitchen, food I paid for, she’s going to hit her brother up for more.
Un-fucking-believable.
If I didn’t love Duke so much, I’d be done with Nika by now. I’m pretty sure Devo would be too.
Boots clomp their way up the stairs outside. I hear Duke talking excitedly, going on about his day and a soccer game he has coming up.
“They’re good, but we’re better,” he promises. “We can do everything better than Culver, right, Raw?”
“You got it, man,” Raw answers enthusiastically. “Harley! You in here?”
“Kitchen!” I call back.
“You about done?”
“Just about. Why?” I push my hair out of my eyes, turning to him. “What are you doing here?”
“We need the truck. We spotted it as we were driving by and swung in to see if we can snag it from you.”
“Who’s ‘we’ and how the hell am I going to get ho—”
My words die in my throat when I see Josh. He steps in behind Raw and Duke, his hands in his pockets, his arms looking huge under the long, tight sleeves of his black shirt. He smirks at me, cocky and slow. Sexy.
He’s been around constantly. Over the last month, he and Raw have become tight, working together when they have to and hanging out when they don’t. With his power off and his work tied to the club, he spends a lot of time in the bar at a far table pouring over his textbooks. When I’m at working, he’s always in my peripheral. I catch myself glancing at him more than I should, drawn in by the deep crease of concentration in his brow and the way he chews absently on the end of his pen. It’s hot in ways I haven’t quite figured out, but even if my mind doesn’t get it, my body does.
