“Your mom leave dinner?”
“Yeah. She’ll be back at midnight. I’ll be fine.”
I nodded. “But I’m a Cheerleader is R because of a sex scene, but it’s a homophobic rating.” Andy tilted her head. “Lesbian sex will destroy the children. You’ll survive. But Girl, Interrupted has some tough spots. It takes place in a mental institution. If it’s too much, turn it off, ’kay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” So much sincerity.
“There’s a chick in there who’s institutionalized ’cause she’s a dyke. Keep an eye.” I grinned.
“Are you going to give me another history lecture?” Andy sighed and set the cat down.
“Always. Now, get out of here. I have to work tonight. Got to finish my dinner.”
“Thanks.” She headed out the door. “I’ll text if I light the place on fire.”
“If you light the place on fire, call the fire department. Then text,” I shouted. The door was already closed, but I could hear her laughing. Nickels climbed back in her bed. “Oh, I see how it is.” She closed her eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
Nate showed up as I was rinsing my bottle. We counted out a full rainbow of pills and stuffed the small baggies into our messenger bags. Nate was good with numbers so I trusted him to keep track without taking notes. Parties were terrible for tracking inventory. His ability to rattle off numbers at the end of the night was one of his best qualities. That and nearly six feet of muscle. Very few people were dumb enough to argue with Nathan Xiao.
I followed Nate to a house off 65th. He knew the neighborhoods around the colleges better than I did. I had my dignity so I made it a point to not know college neighborhoods. We parked a block away from each other. Neither of us had ever articulated an escape plan, but we both had a vague understanding that we didn’t want to be there if the cops broke up a party full of drunk twenty-year-olds. If we parked in opposite directions, it increased our chances of driving away.
A hipster kid opened the door. He would have been a prep-type in my day, but ten years of trends had done nothing good for his style. Too tight button-down, too tight jeans, haircut reminiscent of the Victorian era. I knew the kid. He was the one who had texted me an invite, but I could never remember his name. Something woefully nineties and forgettable. Pacey? Bailey? Television was never good for baby names.
“Cash! Nate! You made it!”
As if we were friends.
I shook his hand. “Hey.” He nodded and dismissed me.
“Hey, Dawson.” Nate shook his hand just hard enough to show who was stronger. “You always have great whiskey. How could we pass it up?”
I managed not to roll my eyes. This was Nate’s other talent. Talking to douchey guys in their own language.
The kid nearly jumped in excitement. “We were just going to do a tasting. You want in?”
“Later, definitely. Got to unload our pockets first, you know?” Nate nodded at his messenger bag.
“Totally. Well, come on in.”
Dawson melted away in the direction of his cheap whiskey tasting and we moved into the living room. I was constantly amazed that kids still had house parties. But they were good for business, and this one was packed. By unspoken agreement, Nate found a wall to post up on while I made my way to the back of the house. In the backyard, I found a keg and more drunk college kids. A girl approached as soon as she saw me.
“Hey, you’re Cash, right?”
“That’s me.”
“I heard you got Adderall.” Her eyes shone. Youthful. Dumb. Yes, for her I definitely had Adderall.
We negotiated to a price twenty percent higher than I charged my regulars. She gave me some cash from her cleavage—I should have gone for thirty percent—and I gave her a bag of blue pills.
Parties were nice because I didn’t have to be nearly as discreet. In fact, blatant tended to earn higher revenue. It made me more approachable. And at a party like this I didn’t need to worry about cops. The kids were all so young that anyone older than twenty-five was as obvious as, well, me.
After I had done the backyard for an hour, Nate and I swapped. I wandered through the kitchen and was thankful I wasn’t drinking. Nothing looked clean.
The wad of cash in my chest pocket had grown to a decent size. I’d gone through about half of what I was carrying and overcharged nearly everyone. I didn’t feel bad about upping the price at parties. Hell, they expected it. Plus, Nate was the party guy. His tolerance was higher. I was much better at peddling subpar organic produce with a side of OxyContin or Xanax. Housewives loved me.
I followed an intoxicated couple toward the front of the house. He tripped and she pushed him upright. He grabbed her ass. For balance, I’m sure. Her heel caught on the perfectly restored hardwood and they stumbled into a wall.
Alcohol was not an attractive drug.
Across the living room, I caught sight of a woman who very much did not belong. She was my age, maybe a couple of years older. Her dark hair caught the glow of the dull lights placed throughout the room. She disappeared behind a group of wrestling boys, then reappeared in the mouth of the hallway leading to the back of the house. With a final glance around the room, she melted away. She was looking for someone. I wanted to be that someone.
I ducked into the hallway. She wasn’t there. Not in the rooms off the hallway either. When I got to the backyard, Nate started to approach me, but I waved him off. She was sitting on the retaining wall holding up the long dead garden. Weren’t hipsters supposed to be into gardening?
She had her feet stretched out on the cracked patio. She was wearing boots and comfortably tight jeans. Her hair was long by my standards, cropped between her ears and chin.
“You look as lost as I feel.” I sat next to her.
“That obvious, huh?” She smiled and I was ready to send out one of those damn invitations myself. “My baby sis and I were supposed to hang out tonight. She brought me here and ditched me.” She tugged at the collar of her checked shirt, loosened her tie more. “Which she has done one thousand million times. So, really, I should have seen it coming.”
“She sounds like a peach,” I said.
“She’s much more charming when she’s not present. Trust me.”
“I’m Cash Braddock.” I held out my hand and she took it.
“Laurel Collins.”
About four seconds after the appropriate time to let go, I released her hand.
“So, Cash, how did you end up at this sad affair?”
“Wingman meets third wheel. I’ve been ditched and now I think I need better friends.”
“May I suggest friends who don’t date twenty-year-olds?”
I laughed. “Noted. Any chance I could interest you in a drink? Somewhere legal where we don’t get a lecture on home brewing.” Also, somewhere no one would come up and ask me for drugs. That was more second date material.
“You’re reading my mind here.” Laurel stood. “Do you need to tell your friend that you’re leaving?”
“As tempted as I am to abandon him, yeah, I should probably give him a heads-up. You?”
“You know, I think this will be an excellent lesson for my sister. She can walk home.”
I laughed. She was kind of a dick. I liked it.
“Are you driving?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m a couple blocks away.”
“Me too. Do you know The Depot?”
“Little place next to Badlands?” she asked.
“That’s the one. Meet you there in twenty?”
“I look forward to it.” Her mouth twitched like she was fighting a grin.
I watched her walk away. She had a fantastic walk. Like she knew where she was going. I wished I had that knowledge.
Nate was finishing a sale when I found him again. I hovered far enough away so his customers wouldn’t feel crowded. When he was done, he turned to me.
“Please tell me you’re taking that chick out.”
“You don’t mind?”
�
�Hell no. You need a life. And that woman is totally your type.”
“You know my type?”
“Gorgeous dykes. You’re simple like that. Even I could get a read on her. She’s got that whole chick who could kick your ass look.”
“You’re crazy.”
Nate grinned. “Let me guess, up close she’s kinda buff, but tone not muscle. Strong jawline. Pretty eyes. Full lips—”
“No, just the bottom one,” I interrupted.
He laughed. “And she was annoyed by everyone at the party except you.”
“I don’t like this game.”
“Get out of here, man.” He pushed me toward the door.
“Yeah, yeah I’m going.”
“I’ll follow you out. How much product you got left?”
“About half. You really don’t mind?”
“You ask again, I’ll punch you,” he said.
We stopped by my car. I dug the remaining pills out of my bag and gave them to Nate. We bundled the cash we had made so far, and I stashed it in the locked compartment in the back of my SUV. No point carrying it around. He told me he’d be by my place in the morning to count out and get paid.
Fifteen minutes later, I snagged parking on 20th Street. I realized I was nervous. Carrying a trunkful of drugs and illicit cash, smuggling pills across the border, selling product for a dirty cop, none of that scared me. But this was unfamiliar territory. What if she wasn’t there? What if she was boring? What if she thought I was boring?
I pushed open the door to The Depot and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. This was the only quiet gay bar I’d ever found. It was probably the only quiet gay bar in America. Maybe the world. That was its appeal. I felt movement to my right and turned in time to see Laurel push off the wall.
“Hey.” I managed not to grin. Had to be cool.
“Hey. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside this place. Only walked past.”
“Yeah? It’s never crowded.”
“Big plus.”
We moved to the bar. Laurel leaned over and made eye contact with the bartender. He took his time making his way over. They didn’t mind women here, but we weren’t their intended clientele.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Anchor Steam for me.” I looked at Laurel.
“Any chance it’s on tap?” she asked both of us.
“Yep,” the bartender said.
“Two then.”
“IDs?” He pulled glasses from under the bar while he waited.
I thumbed out my ID and some cash. Laurel took the ID and handed hers over with mine.
Getting ID’d was obnoxious, but I knew I’d be even more irritated the day they stopped asking. The bartender handed back our licenses and started to fill our glasses. Laurel handed my ID back.
“Your name’s actually Cash?”
“Long story.”
She nodded. I put some money on the bar and we grabbed our glasses.
“Best seats are out back,” I said. She nodded and followed me. Out back was actually caged in, but the air was fresher than in the bar and it was far enough from the pool tables to escape the noise. We settled on bar stools.
“So you gonna share?” Laurel asked.
“What?”
“The long story.”
“Oh. That.” She nodded. “My mom was broke so this way she always had cash.”
Laurel looked skeptical. “Can’t say she never did.”
“Oh, that’s good. I think I’ll add that to the cheap explanation.”
Almost got a smile. “And the real story?”
“My mother is an addict. She managed to stay sober until I was born, but as soon as she had me…” I shrugged. “Decision-making—like baby names—wasn’t her strong suit.”
“That’s rough.”
“Not really. My uncle Clive, her brother, raised me. Last time I saw her, I was six years old. She wasn’t really a parent. Kind of like a crazy aunt. My uncle is cool though.”
“He live in Sac?”
“Up the hill. He has a little organic farm. Well, I guess we both do. I’m a partner.”
“You’re a farmer?” She smiled and pushed her hair up out of her eyes. It stayed for half a second before falling back across her cheek. Swoon. I had to replay the conversation and remove my head from my ass before I answered.
“Not really. He farms, I deliver his produce. It’s very glamorous. What about you?”
“Am I a farmer?”
I grinned. “No. Although, yes, are you a farmer? And if not, then why? You got something against farmers?”
“I can’t say I’ve always been a fan of farmers, but I recently met this super hot farmer chick, and she is making me reevaluate my prejudice.”
Christ, the girl was smooth. I used to be smooth.
“That’s good. You’re so open-minded. I’ve always appreciated that about you.”
“I do my best.”
“If not farming, then how do you disappoint your parents?” I asked.
She scoffed. “Please. I’m so good at disappointing my parents.” She took a long drink of Anchor Steam. Nodded in appreciation. Set the glass down. “I was a double major. Criminal justice and English. And I’ve now managed to avoid law school for about a decade.”
“Impressive.”
“It’s a talent.”
One of many. I was sure.
“Sibs? Baby sis any good at being a disappointment?”
She laughed. “She makes me look like an amateur. I’m the oldest of four. I’ve been told they will mature. I’m still waiting.”
“How old?”
“Four or five years between all of us. Youngest is eighteen. She’s at Sac State, obviously, but I’m thinking studying hasn’t been a priority.”
I laughed. If sis was going to the parties I was invited to, then no, studying was not a priority. Except maybe the week before finals when I would sell out of Adderall.
Laurel told me a bit more about the family, one of her brothers hadn’t escaped law school. She asked some questions about my uncle’s farm. She was easy to talk to. Easier to look at. Nathan was right. She was exactly my type. Dangerous.
CHAPTER THREE
When I got home just after two, I noticed that the light out back was still on. I glanced out and found Andy sprawled on the bench on her side of the porch, the glow of her phone illuminated her face. She was asleep. The phone finished vibrating its message, then went dark. I let myself outside.
“Andy, hey, Anderson.” I shook her foot. “Wake up, tiger.”
“Huh?”
“What are you doing out here? Your mom home yet?”
Andy sat up and rubbed her face. “She got stuck at the hospital. It’s nice out. Fell asleep.” She swiped her phone and grinned.
I sat next to her. “Hot text date?”
“This is why I think you’re old. What the hell is a text date?” She tapped her phone, then locked it.
“Sorry. Snapchat date.”
She sighed. “Yeah. Snapchat date. That’s a thing.”
“You’re an ass.”
“One of us has to talk to chicks. You’re not stepping up.” Andy leaned her head back against the side of the house and closed her eyes. “I can’t help that women want me.”
I did my best not to laugh at her. “I will have you know that I just shut down a bar with a chick.”
“Uh-huh. Me too. I way just shut down a bar with a chick.”
“Do you have any idea what that means?” I asked.
“Of course.” She opened her eyes. “It’s like you…shut down a bar…with a chick?”
“It means we were there so long, the bar shut down.”
“Wait. For real. You went on an actual date? With an actual chick?” I nodded. “That’s dope.” She shoved my shoulder.
High praise.
“It’s late. I’m going to bed. So should you.” I stood.
“Yeah, sure.” She made no move.
“At least go inside. I haven’t fixed the lock on the gate yet.” The neighborhood was safe enough, but I didn’t like her being out alone this late. Neither would her mother.
“I thought you were going to last week?”
“Bought the lock. Haven’t installed it.”
She perked up. “Can we tomorrow? I can help.”
Kid just wanted to wear my tool belt. “Sure. If you go inside now.”
“Fine.” Andy stood.
“Good night.”
“‚Night.”
I opened my door and waited until she was inside before heading in. I heard her locks click, then footsteps to the front door. She slid the deadbolt and hit the lights. She’d be asleep on the couch in two minutes.
*
I woke up to my phone vibrating. It was a text from Robin thanking me for making Andy go to bed the night before and inviting me to dinner. Another text from Henry telling me to call him. Who used phones to make calls any more? Boy was so twentieth century. And paranoid. He was a deputy sheriff. I doubted the sheriff’s department was interested in investigating its own members. I hit call.
“Cash. Hey.”
“What’s up?” I rolled out of bed and pulled on yesterday’s jeans.
“Big bust last night. I collected evidence.”
“Yeah?”
“And I’ve been doing a lot of paperwork. Needing to check evidence in and out. You know how it goes.”
“Meet me tonight? My place.” I had no desire to see Henry, but he always delivered good shit.
“I get off at eleven.”
“Cool. See you after?”
“Yep.” He hung up. No phone etiquette. You gotta at least say good-bye. Let the other person know. Henry was a lost cause. I made a note to give Andy a talk about phone etiquette.
By the time Nate showed up at ten, I had managed to brush my teeth and put on a T-shirt. I opened the door to a cup of coffee. Which made Nate perfect in every way. We sat at the kitchen table and sorted out how much we had sold and for what price. I took some shorthand notes, then counted out his cut. He double-checked it.
“You’re giving me too much.” He started to count again.
“No. You worked longer and covered me. It’s fair.”
Cash Braddock Page 2