by M. S. Parker
“How much we gonna have?” The new guy asked the question I was sure we were all thinking.
“Five hundred kilos.”
The guy we all called Force let out a low whistle and everyone else looked impressed.
I tried not to curse out loud.
Five hundred kilos of cocaine? What the hell was Booker thinking?
Except I didn't really have to ask that question. I knew what Booker was thinking. There was money in moving coke, and he wanted a piece of it.
“Where's he gettin' it all?” Force asked. “I don't know no one 'round here who'd sell that much to someone new.”
“Who said we're getting it from here?” Georgie shot back.
This was the part I knew I needed to pay attention to.
“Booker's got a cousin in Jersey. Julius something. He's a dealer with some serious connections.” Georgie reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint. He lit it, took a long drag, then leaned back in his chair. He was really enjoying himself.
“So we're gonna buy it from this Julius guy?” the new guy asked.
Georgie shook his head, and the slow smile that curled up his mouth set my teeth on edge. “Nope.”
That didn't sound promising.
“Booker's got us going around his cousin? That doesn’t sound too smart.”
I was glad Force asked it so I didn't have to. He was in the gang, so while it might not have been a good idea for him to question the boss, it was a hell of a lot better than me doing it. The less I involved myself in any of this, the better.
“Naw,” Georgie said. “Julius told Booker that he's got a seller sitting on five hundred kilos and wants to get rid of it at a discount. We're gonna buy it from him.”
Once again I was struck with the desire to hit him. He knew how this was all supposed to go, and he was dragging it all out on purpose. Part of me even wondered if he was doing it because I was here. He was always trying to one-up me. Had since we were kids.
Georgie had grown up on the same block as me, but he came from a shit family. I might not have known who my dad was, but Georgie had it worse with his dad around. I never got the full story, but I'd seen Georgie with enough black eyes as a kid to know that his old man was a piece of work, and his mom wasn't much better. Between that and the fact that most of our peers respected me but not him, things between us had always felt more like a competition than a friendship.
I knew half the reason he'd gotten me hired here was because that put him over me, and he could show how he had power in his gang while I didn't. Now that Booker had pulled me into things, Georgie would probably pull more of this alpha male shit like he had something to prove.
“So we're going to Jersey to buy this coke, bringing it back here, and then putting it in car and bike parts so we can get it to Booker's dealers?” Little Eddie, the quietest of the bunch, put it all together in one question.
“We gettin' paid to get it?” the new guy asked. “Cuz if we get caught runnin' that much shit, we're fucked.”
I didn't say it, but I was thinking the same thing. Booker hadn't given me much detail, only that if I wanted to keep my job, I was going to do this. There'd also been the implication that living was also one of the things on the line if I backed out.
“Yeah, we're getting paid,” Georgie said, his voice sharp.
He didn't like being questioned, especially when he was in charge of a job. He wanted people to follow him like they did Booker. No questions. Unwavering loyalty. The sort of respect that made people not want to cross him. The problem was, he wasn't a leader. Booker wasn't a good guy, but he was a leader. He had the type of presence that made people pay attention when he walked into a room. Georgie had never been like that. He was a hot-head. Liked to run his mouth but could rarely back anything up if it required more than beating the shit out of someone weaker than him.
“How much?” the new guy asked.
I didn't like the glint in Georgie's eyes. Last time I'd seen him give someone that look, the guy had pissed blood for two weeks, and his hand still didn't work right. Like I said. Hot-headed.
“Enough.” He dropped what was left of his joint on the floor and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “Booker's got it all worked out what we all get. If you want exact numbers, you can ask him.”
The kid's eyes widened. Looked like he had some brains after all.
I still wanted to know exactly how much, but I did know enough about Booker to know that he didn't rely on violence for everything. He had no problem paying his people enough for jobs that they stayed loyal.
A sick feeling settled over me. I liked to think of myself as someone who couldn't be bought. Sure, I did some stupid shit, but it was always my choice. And, yeah, sometimes I had to do things I didn't like, but there was always a good reason. I just hadn't considered money a good reason to do anything this stupid.
As much as my mom and I struggled, I'd promised myself I wouldn't do anything that would take me away from her, no matter how pissed I was or how tight things got. But then she got hurt, and money became even more of a problem. Working at Club Privé had kept our heads above water, but now I didn't have that coming in. I hadn't told my mom yet that I’d gotten fired. Carrie was working hard to get my mom what she deserved from her no-good boss. I didn't want Mom getting after Carrie and finding out about Bryne. Not like that.
Getting paid for moving some coke from one place to another didn't sound like such a bad deal. It wasn't like I’d be out selling it to neighborhood kids or anything like that. If I didn't go, the other guys would do the job anyway, and I'd miss out on the money without changing anything.
I knew I was trying to justify accepting the job, but knowing it didn't stop me. I didn't need an exact number to know that it'd be more than I made here. More than enough to fool my mom into thinking I was still at the club, for a while anyway. I didn't know exactly how much everything cost because my mom wouldn't tell me – she said she didn't want me to worry – but I wasn't blind. I could read “late notice” on almost every bill that came in the mail. We couldn't afford to fall any further behind.
“How come Booker don't have us dealing it? Seems like it'd be cheaper.” Force scratched his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. “And we wouldn't need to mess with any of the bikes or cars.”
I was wondering the same thing, but for a completely different reason. Force and the other guys were probably thinking they could make more that way. I didn't want to give Booker any ideas. Becoming a dealer was way too risky.
Besides, if I got caught, it'd kill my mom.
Even as I thought it, another face came into my mind. Bryne. She knew I didn't come from a good background, and she'd overlooked our differences so far. I couldn't even imagine what she'd do if I got arrested for dealing cocaine. She'd probably hate me for making her look bad. She had big plans for her future, but none of them included scandals. Especially not from someone like me.
I didn't think I could do this.
The realization shocked me enough that I almost missed Georgie's answer.
“Booker says it's safer this way. No shit kept around here for long. Money goes through the business so it all looks legit.”
“And if we all quit working here, and Booker has to hire a bunch of new people, it's gonna look suspicious,” Little Eddie said. “I got a friend in Chicago who got his whole meth operation busted because he wasn't careful.”
“When are we going?” Force asked.
“Maybe tomorrow, day after at the latest,” Georgie said. “We're making it up to look like we're going to the junk yard to find spare parts.”
Shit. My stomach lurched. Part of me had hoped we'd have a week of planning so I'd have time to figure a way out of it. I had to be smart about it. Come up with a good reason for Georgie to tell me to stay back. But if this was happening in the next day or two, I’d have to flat-out refuse, and I knew Georgie would never take that for an answer. He'd make me go see Booker.
The smar
t thing would be to do it. Keep my head down, take the money, and then tell Booker that I was out. That I couldn't risk something happening to my mom.
It wasn't Mom I was thinking about though. She loved me unconditionally. It'd hurt her if she found out about any of this, but I'd never lose her love. Disappointment was bad, but she wouldn't turn her back on me.
Doing this meant risking Bryne. I had no claim on her, nothing to hold her to me if things went south. I already knew I wasn't good enough for her, and I kept hoping she wouldn't realize it. If I got caught with coke, she'd know it for sure, and nothing I could do would bring her back.
My head started to hurt. I didn't want this, any of it. I didn't want to be torn up over a girl. I didn't want to be forced into doing something illegal and stupid. I didn't want to worry about getting evicted if I couldn't come up with enough money.
But even as I listed all the things I didn't want, I knew there was one thing I needed more than anything else.
I needed to see Bryne. Needed to know if she would be worth risking everything for. If seeing her would give me the courage I needed to refuse Booker and the money he was offering. Most of all though, I just needed her. I couldn't explain it, didn't want to even think about it, but it was the truth. No matter what I kept telling myself, I knew that, for good or bad, we'd been connected from the moment she stepped into this shop.
Chapter Eight
Bryne
I might've been the lead female role in Collide, but I was also the youngest. Actually, I was the youngest in the entire cast. Not that there were a lot of us. Collide had a cast of only five. Todd, me, August Dumont, Ofelia Makula, and Eolan Iwa. It was essentially a love story at its core, but it wasn't some sweet, feel-good sort of thing, which I loved. The five of us played a cast of characters brought together by tragedy. Todd and I were the couple who fell in love despite the circumstances. August played a professional athlete whose career was ruined. Ofelia's character lost her fiancé, and Eolan was the one trying to make it all better.
On the surface, it seemed fairly simplistic, but the writer had a beautiful, subtle style that drew out all sorts of nuances in the characters...if we were good enough to bring them to life.
“You're brilliant as Gretchen,” Todd said for the second time in the last five minutes.
“I'm just worried I won’t be able to do her character justice.” I sat down with a sigh.
We'd done a basic blocking this morning, then broken for lunch. Before we left, the director announced that we'd be doing a full rehearsal when we got back, and it was then that I started freaking out.
“This is the first time you've done original material, isn't it?” Todd asked. “The stuff you did in DC was all like Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams and all that, right?”
I nodded as I rubbed my temples. I was starting to wonder if I could handle the pressure that came with this sort of life. I could take being on stage, the pressure that came with memorizing, and having people watching me. All of that was fine. It was the pressure of such a small cast and such a complex character. Of knowing that the writer would be watching, and I couldn’t let them down.
That wasn't something one had to worry about when doing Much Ado About Nothing.
And that wasn't even taking into account all of the shit going on in my personal life.
A pair of strong hands came to rest on my shoulders, then Todd dug his fingers in as he began to massage my shoulders and neck.
“Damn, Bryne. These are some serious knots.”
“Be honest, Todd,” I said. “Do you really think I can do this?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “And remember, it's not just you. There are five of us, and we'll make Collide so good that it'll make the move to Broadway with all of us.”
I laughed, feeling that take as much of the tension out of me as Todd's massage was doing. “You really don't lack for confidence, do you?”
“Nope.”
I moaned as his fingers pressed against a particularly tender spot in my neck. “You're really good at that. Does Hiram know how lucky he is?”
“I think so,” Todd said. “But you should probably make a point of telling him anyway.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, letting myself relax. It was odd how easily I trusted Todd. I'd known him for less than a month, and I had no problem being alone with him in the men's dressing room, my eyes closed, his hands kneading my tight muscles. Part of it, I knew, was because I didn't feel any romantic pressure from him, but that wasn't all of it. I doubted I would've trusted a woman this quickly.
I wasn't aware that I was falling asleep until just before I slipped into a dream, and then I was too far gone to stop.
I stretched out on my stomach, eyes closed. The sun was warm on my body, but not as warm as the hands moving across my skin. I knew his touch so well, knew him so well. I could practically see him etched on the backs of my eyelids. I knew every line of his face, the exact shade of cobalt his eyes were. We'd spent years exploring each other's bodies, learning every dip and curve, but even now his touch made every inch of me throb and pulse with desire.
I rolled over onto my back, and his hands skimmed over my bare breasts, rough palms to sensitive nipples. I moaned, arching my back up into his touch. He chuckled, and I opened my eyes. The heat and passion that I met in his gaze sent a flood of arousal through me.
He pushed my breasts together and lowered his head, flicking his tongue back and forth across my nipples until they hardened. I reached up and buried my hands in his hair, letting myself enjoy the soft, silky strands between my fingers. I held his head against me, gasping as his teeth scraped my sensitive skin.
“Dax.” I squirmed under him, his hard body a welcome weight. “Dax, please.”
“Please, what?” His fingers skimmed across my stomach.
“Dax.” I nearly whined the word.
He made a chiding noise, then shifted so that he gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands. He pulled my arms above my head, pinning them there. His other hand danced over my breasts, between them, down to my bellybutton.
“Please what, Bryne?”
How I loved the sound of my name on his tongue. The way he spoke those words, pushing me to say what I wanted from him. He was my first lover, my only lover, and he continued to inspire and excite me. He encouraged me to explore, to talk about the things I wanted. Nothing was off-limits, nothing too intense.
“Fuck me, Dax,” I begged. “I need you inside me.”
“What do you need?”
I glared at him, knowing what he wanted me to say. “Your cock. Is that what you want me to say?”
He grinned, the casual ease of his expression making my stomach flip. It had taken time to get him to let down his guard, and it was still only in the most intimate of moments that he was totally open.
“Say it, Bryne.” He reached down to grasp his thick erection, moving his hand in slow, sure strokes up and down. “Tell me what you need.”
I struggled against his grasp, wanting to get my hands on him. Mark his skin with my nails to make sure everyone knew he was mine. My eyes fell on the silver stud through his nipple, and my mouth watered. I loved the feel of the metal in my mouth, loved teasing it with my tongue. I'd once made it a goal to have my mouth all over Dax's gorgeous body, and now I wanted to do it again.
“Bryne.” His voice held a warning note, and a thrill went through me.
I knew what that meant. If I didn't answer his question, there would be consequences. A spanking with his bare hand, perhaps. A flogging where soft leather strips would come down on some of the most sensitive parts of my body. Maybe he'd fuck my mouth, taking his pleasure there and leaving me wanting until he decided I'd had enough. He might decide to take my ass and force me to come without touching my clit. Pinch and twist my nipples until they were swollen and deliciously sore. Take me to the edge so many times that I sobbed with need.
Every punishment sounded better than the last.
I gave him the coy smile I'd discovered as Dax and I had been exploring our sex life. His eyes narrowed as his fingers flexed around my wrists.
“I need to be punished.”
The words had barely left my mouth, and Dax was flipping me onto my stomach. I let out a startled yelp, and that earned me a sharp slap on my ass before Dax yanked my hips up until I was on my knees. The hand between my shoulder blades kept my head down as he pushed my knees far enough apart to leave me completely exposed.
Despite how awkward this position felt, I was soaked, eager for him to do whatever it was he wanted with me. A finger ran up my slit, moving from my clit all the way up to my anus. A whimper escaped as Dax pushed his finger into my ass. He hadn't used any lubrication aside from what he'd gathered from me, and it burned. He worked his finger in and out, twisting it until I started to push back.
“Stay!” He emphasized his command with a sharp slap on my ass.
I squeezed my eyes closed and gave myself over to the sensations coursing through me. I shuddered as a second finger joined the first, stretching me before my body was completely ready. I rode the fine line between pain and pleasure, letting Dax control which way I went.
Then, suddenly, his fingers were gone. My body throbbed in anticipation, expecting to feel his cock replacing the emptiness his fingers had left behind. Except it was something else breaching that tight ring of muscle. Hard, ridged, and almost as thick as Dax's cock, I couldn't figure out what he was now working in and out of my ass, only that it wasn't one of our usual toys.
“How about that?” His tone was almost conversational. “Just about anything can be a sex toy.”
