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CHAPTER EIGHT

JASPER

Do I want to leave Falin in the state she’s in? No, not at all. Especially not to freeze my jewels off in Brooklyn. But Blake’s right. We can’t put all our eggs in one basket. If this New Year’s party is a bust, putting all our eggs in that basket will leave us fucked.

I’m waiting outside for Damon to finish saying goodbye to Blake. It’s been five minutes already and I’m sure it’ll be five more. The cold breeze against my face helps to relieve the sting from where Falin burned me. Who knew a goddamn hot glue gun could get that hot? Certainly not me. I think the craftiest I’ve ever gotten was when I made a laughable phallic vase for my mom in high school ceramics class.

As I lean against the brick wall, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Curious, I pull it out, spotting a notification from Telegram.

You still want to meet up? I’ve got pinks.

It’s the same guy I was supposed to meet the other night. I pound my fist against the wall to keep myself from cursing in front of an old lady walking by. Once she passes, I push off from the wall and pace a few steps. It’s been a couple days, and the worst of it has subsided. The shakes, the nausea, the skin crawling edge. But if anything, the craving to be numb has grown. I don’t like feeling this raw. Like every word said, every second of me being powerless to help, burrows into my skin like a splinter that I can’t pull free.

Fuck it.

I type out a quick response, telling him to meet me on the corner near the deli in ten minutes. Then I text Damon.

Me: Hey, running to the deli for a coffee before we leave. You want anything?

While I wait for his reply, I pull out my frayed wallet and count the cash. One hundred and three dollars. It’s not much, but it’ll do. I’ll have to talk to Leon about some side work. I can’t rely on these stolen credit cards forever, and there’s no way in hell I’m asking my parents for money. They’ve already cashed out their retirement and taken out a second mortgage on the house to pay for Ray and the other useless private investigators.

D: Yeah, grab me a Monster. I’ll meet you over there with the car.

Shit. That doesn’t give me much time. This asshole better be quick. The last thing I need is Damon on my ass. By the time he leaves Blake, walks over to the lot where he parks his car, and meets me, I’ve got maybe twenty minutes, tops.

Me: Got it.

A notification pops up from the dealer.

Be there in five.

Something’s going my way today. That’s a first.

I keep my head down and eyes up as I weave my way through a few slow walkers, probably tourists. I’m hyperaware of every passing car, every siren in the distance, every stare that seems to linger on my face. The bells on a dry cleaner door jingle from a person exiting, making me jump out of my damn skin. I quicken my pace.

Goddamn paranoia.

Every step I take has my stomach clenching.

It’ll be worth it when that blissful wave washes over me.

The meetup is quick. No more than two minutes. I barely even register what the guy looks like before he’s taking off on foot down the street a hundred bucks richer. It doesn’t matter, I got what I came for. Only three pills though. I’ll have to make them last.

I grab our drinks from the deli, taking a plastic straw from the box on the counter. Once I’m back outside, I shove the energy drink cans in my hoodie pocket, and head to the bus bench around the corner. My hands tremble as I go through the motions. Unwrapping the straw and bending it at the end. Carefully slipping the pill into the bent end, and chewing it until it feels like a fine enough powder between the plastic. With a quick glance around to make sure no one is watching me, I snort, feeling the burn that hurts so good.

My eyes instantly water and my nose drips, but none of that matters. Fuck. The head rush feels incredible. My limbs are light, my head is clear. Everything slows down as I move toward the corner again. Like I’m wading through ankle deep water. The world gets softer somehow—the lights, the sounds, even my own thoughts, all wrapped in a warm blanket. I finally remember what it feels like to be okay. To be normal. To not worry about all the bullshit.

But deep in the back of my mind, that familiar whisper starts up again, like the nagging bitch it is. How long will this last? There’s only two left now.

I push the thoughts away. Right now, I’m floating, untouchable, safe. At least until it wears off.

I shove the straw into my pocket, along with the baggie, and right on cue, Damon pulls up, the rumble of his engine louder than the thoughts in my mind. I rub my nose with the back of my hand and hop in the passenger seat.

“No Lee?” I ask, handing Damon his drink. I keep my eyes trained forward, hoping he won’t notice my dripping nose.

“Nah, he wanted to stay back and research those politicians some more.” Damon’s knee vibrates in his seat as he speeds forward. He seems just as jumpy as I was ten minutes ago, and I think I know why.

“The girls leave yet?”

“Not yet. They were heading out right after I left.” He glances in his rearview like he expects Blake to be behind us, waiting for him.

“They’ll be fine, brother. Just relax.”

Does my voice sound normal? I hope so.

“I can’t relax. I fucking hate this city. Too many damn people everywhere.” His fist tightens on the steering wheel as he barely misses hitting a jaywalker.

“I feel you, but hey, we got the night to ourselves. Been a while, huh? Let’s turn up the music, open the windows, and make the best of it.” I mess around with his stereo, the only upgraded thing in his classic Chevelle, but he swats my hand away. I raise it in mock surrender. “I forgot, no one touches your precious music.”

“Damn right,” he says, with a hint of a smirk. He pulls his phone from his back pocket and taps a few times. The opening of “A Day To Remember, The Downfall Of Us All” blasts through his speakers. This song always hyped us up, and right now is no different. I let my head nod back and forth as the wind whips my hair in front of my face. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine we’re back in college, when life was simple. I hold onto that feeling the entire way to Brooklyn.

* * *

“My dick is going to get frostbitten,” I groan, rubbing my cold hands together. The wind coming off the bay assaults the sliver of skin exposed in my mask.

Damon shakes his head. “I can’t take you seriously in that thing.”

The thing he’s referring to is my now bedazzled balaclava. He laughed for a full minute straight when I first put it on. “Yeah, well, I volunteered yours for her next creative burst. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, hell no.” He pokes at the studs along my forehead. “I’m hiding my mask when we get home. The whole point of masks is to be incognito. This,” he gestures to my face, “is the opposite.”

“What was I supposed to do? Tackle her to the floor, glue gun and all?” I smirk beneath my mask. “And hey, at least it’s not boring anymore.”

A gust rattles a nearby container and Damon instinctively grabs his gun. “It’s nothing,” I say.

Tonight has been a bust. The place is pretty dead—only a few ships getting unloaded. Looks like shipments of produce. That’s going on far enough away from where we’re camped out that we haven’t gotten close to any employee. The only living things near us are a few relentless pigeons poking around a nearby dumpster. Between the cold, and Damon’s shitty mood, I’ve lost most of my high. The rest of my pills gnaw at the back of my mind like an unscratched itch. My thoughts are swimming again, mixed with the weight of guilt sitting on my chest.

“I’m gonna take a walk around, see if we missed something west of here.” I have to move my body, do something other than stand in the shadows.

“We should stay together. It’s too quiet. I don’t like it.”

“Bro, this place is fucking huge. There’s acres that we haven’t checked. I know you want to focus on the area Lee told us to, but he’s not always right.” I don’t know where this speech came from, but from the look in Damon’s eyes, he might relent.

“Go ahead. I’m gonna check on Blake, but call me if you see anything.” He pulls his phone out and holds the screen in front of his face to wake it up.

“Sounds good.” I shove my freezing hands in my pockets and step toward the darkened space between containers. “Check on Falin too,” I add at the last second. I don’t wait for his teasing remark before I slip between containers.

This place is fucking creepy. I feel like I’m a character in a mafia movie, finding the perfect spot to off someone. Come to think of it, I’m going to stash that idea away for the next time I need to do that.

I make my way to a broken down crane sitting in an empty lot. Far enough away from Damon that he won’t easily find me. Once I’m behind the wheels, I pull my pills out and crush up another, my heart pounding with each passing second.

I know I shouldn’t. With the straw pinched between my fingers, I lean my head back and count down.

“Five.” What the fuck am I doing?

“Four.” Is this who I want to be?

“Three.” Damon might need me.

“Two.” If I’m high, I’m no good to anyone.

“One.” Fuck!

As I bring the straw to my nostril, my phone vibrates in my pocket. In a split second decision, I throw the straw containing the crushed up pill as hard as I can into the darkness. My chest heaves and hands shake as I pull out my phone. It’s Damon. “Hey, man, miss me already?”

“We need to go.”

He sounds like something sharp is lodged in his throat. No hint of humor or casualness, just fear and urgency.

“What’s wrong? Is it the girls?”

“It’s Blake. She’s in the ER.”

What the fuck?