The Deal & a Secret

by Jessica Sorensen

  Me: Yeah, I know. I caught him locking it up this morning. He seemed really sketchy about it, too, but that’s Dad for you. And FYI, Dad doesn’t have a spare key to my car anymore. I took it away that time he took my car and didn’t return it for three days.

  Londyn: Oh! I’m so glad you did, but I wish you’d told me. Could have saved me some time this morning.

  Me: Yeah, sorry about that. I put the spare key under my mattress. Are you guys still at the house? Because it’s late.

  Londyn: No, we made it to school.

  Me: Oh, did you find your key then?

  Londyn: Not exactly.

  Me: Okay … Did you get a ride with Dad then?

  Londyn: Ha, what a funny joke.

  I chuckle, yet I’m still confused.

  Me: How did you get to school then? Did you walk?

  Londyn: Well, we were going to, even though it was really late, but … Look, promise me you won’t get mad, because we did get to school on time and nothing bad happened.

  I rest back in the seat and prop my feet onto the dash as I type.

  Me: I’m not going to get mad. You’re responsible. I trust your judgment.

  Londyn: But I may have screwed up a bit with this one, but only because I panicked about us all being late to school. I tried to call Hunter for a ride, because he’s like the only person I know in this town, but he didn’t answer, so I decided we were going to walk and just be late. But on our way out, someone else we sort of know saw us and asked if we needed a ride. At first, I declined because this person is a straight-up jerk. Or, well, he seemed that way at first, but then I realized we were going to be super late, and Bailey and Payton were complaining, and I panicked, and … I’m so sorry!

  Me: Sorry for what? For accepting a ride? You’re acting really weird.

  Londyn: Not just for accepting a ride. For accepting a ride from our neighbors.

  Me: Wait. You got a ride with the Portersons?

  Londyn: Yeah, Rhyland and Jaxon anyway. I’m sorry. I love you, and I’m still unsure about them. I just become a terrible decision-maker when I’m desperate. I’m so, so sorry. I feel like I stabbed you in the back. Please don’t hate me.

  Me: Why would I hate you? You needed to find a ride to school, so you found one. And Rhyland and Jaxon don’t seem too terrible, I guess. Well, Rhyland doesn’t. Jaxon’s too quiet to tell for sure.

  Londyn: I know, but still … I said all those bad things about them and told everyone we should stay away from them. I’m a complete hypocrite. And you made that bet so they’d leave us alone, and then we ended up being around them anyway.

  Me: The bet wasn’t a waste. It gives us assurance that shit like the flyer incident won’t happen again. And besides, Alex was the main culprit behind that. And the tires. Not Rhyland or Jaxon.

  Londyn: I know, but I still feel awful.

  Me: Well, don’t. Part of being in charge is putting others’ needs before yours. You needed a ride, so you got a ride, and no one was late. You did good, sis.

  Londyn: If you say so, but I still feel a bit like a traitor. At least tell me you’re doing okay. That Blaise hasn’t been too awful.

  Me: I’m fine. And Blaise is okay, I guess. At least he’s been less cocky this morning.

  Londyn: That’s good. Did you have to do the favor yet?

  I hesitate. While I lie to my sisters a lot, it’s mostly to protect them. If I don’t tell her the truth now, though, it’s to protect Blaise and Alex. But I made a promise to Blaise, and since I understand that protective need toward my siblings, the idea of confessing his secret doesn’t feel right.

  Me: Nah, not yet. But I think he’s probably just going to make me run in and get them coffee after we pick up Alex.

  Londyn: Great, so he’s playing the servant card?

  Me: I think so.

  Londyn: I want to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. He’s such a jerk.

  I should correct her, tell her that maybe he isn’t as horrible as we thought, but that would lead to a bunch of other questions that I’ll have to lie about. And since my tally for the day is going up really quickly, I decide to just let it drop.

  Londyn: Crap, I have to go. Class is about to start. But you’re going to be here soon, right?

  Me: Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.

  I hope.

  After I finish texting Londyn, I sit in the SUV for another handful of minutes before I start to get really bored. And hot. Blaise left the windows rolled up and took the keys with him, and with the sun being fully risen, even though I wore a pair of shorts and a black T-shirt, the cab is starting to heat up fast. The more time that ticks by, the more my skin dampens with sweat.

  I’d text Blaise, except I don’t have his number. I don’t have any of the Portersons’ digits.

  About an hour in, I start to lose my cool. Not only is it stifling hot, but I’m miles away from town and it’s getting late.

  “Fuck this shit.” I climb out of the car and stare down the driveway, trying to mentally calculate the distance back to town. It has to be at least a dozen miles.

  I could always hotwire Blaise’s SUV, but I wouldn’t put it past him or Alex to call the cops on my thieving ass. Blaise never said I couldn’t go into the house, but it was sort of implied when he got out and didn’t invite me in. Then again, if he didn’t want me to go in, he shouldn’t have left me in the car for over an hour.

  Squaring my shoulders, I march up to the house. Yeah, the place is beyond creep, and I’m not so sure I’m buying into it not being a crack house, but I’ve been to places like this before. A lot of times actually, needing to pick up my dad or settle a deal with someone my dad tried to screw over.

  Payton also went through a phase about six months ago when she was spending a lot of time with a guy who was really into drugs. She swore to me she didn’t do any drugs with him, but that didn’t mean I just willingly let her hang out with him. No, she’d sneak off, and I’d have to drive to the dude’s house and drag her ass out kicking and screaming. He lived in a really sketchy area.

  While I hate to judge this house by its torn-up side and lack of a roof, Blaise’s hesitation to go inside is enough for me to know that what’s on the inside isn’t going to be a welcome mat and a place smelling of freshly baked cookies.

  But I got this.

  I always got this.

  Chapter Three

  When I arrive at the front door, I muster up a deep breath, collect my shit, and knock.

  “Who the fuck is that?” a voice snaps from the other side. “We weren’t expecting anyone else, were we?”

  I wince, but I keep my feet planted to the ground.

  “I sure as hell wasn’t,” someone yells back.

  They grow quiet.

  I knock again, harder this time.

  “Fuck.” Someone lets out a string of curses, then the door is cracked open. A trail of smoke snakes outside as a guy peers out at me, his gaze sweeping up and down me. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m a …” I almost say a friend of Blaise’s, but that doesn’t seem accurate. “Look, I drove up here with Blaise, and I really need to talk to him.”

  The guy’s bloodshot eyes measure me up. “Why?”

  “Because …” I shift my weight, feeling more uneasy than I’d like. “Can you just tell him to come here please? It’s an emergency.”

  He gives a lengthy, very annoying pause, then steps back and opens the door. “I’ve got a better idea, sweetheart. How about you come inside and get him yourself?”

  Every one of my muscles twitch at his use of sweetheart, but now that I have a very good view of this guy, I decide to bite my tongue, unlike when Blaise called me the same stupid pet name. Unlike Blaise, this guy isn’t a cocky teenager who’s annoyingly pretty. No, he’s a grown-ass pain with scabs on his face, track marks on his arms, and a pipe in his hand.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” someone else asks.

  I turn and find another man lounging
on a leather recliner that’s perched in the center of a small room made of chipped, wooden walls and shaggy, orange carpet. Where the man in front of me is obviously drugged out, this guy looks like a steroid freak, all bulging muscles and acne.

  “I’m not sure yet.” The guy in front of me fixes his gaze on me. “What’s your name?” When I make no move to offer my name, he adds, “If you don’t tell me who you are, sweetheart, then I can’t show you where Blaise is.”

  My fingers curl inward. God, what I’d give to crack my knuckles against this jerk’s scabby face.

  “It’s Belinda,” I lie.

  “Belinda?” He doesn’t seem too impressed. Either that or he doesn’t believe me. “So, why are you here, Belinda?”

  “I already told you this.” Irritation surfaces in my tone, despite my internal battle not to go all smartass on this guy. “I need to talk to Blaise.”

  “Hmm …” He rubs his jawline, causing a scab to fall off. I nearly gag. “I’m not sure if there’s a Blaise here.” He trades a look with the other guy. “What do you think, D? Is there a Blaise here?”

  The dude on the sofa—D—eyes me over, a smile curling at his lips. “Actually, my name’s Blaise.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I say snidely. “That’s why he just called you D.”

  “D’s my middle name,” D insists as he rises to his feet and crosses the room toward me. “So, what did you want to talk to me about? Or should we go somewhere more private?”

  “Just tell me where Blaise is.” I give him a blank stare, pretending to be the epitome of indifference. Deep down, though, uneasiness stirs. This situation is bad, especially since I can’t see Blaise anywhere. But he has to be here. I saw him go in, and he never left … unless there’s a back door.

  Crap, what if there’s a back door? What if he left me? But, where would he go? And why would he just leave his car here? Those questions should relieve me, but there have been plenty of times when my dad ditched me and left his truck behind. He even took his truck keys with him so I couldn’t drive away, which is the main reason I taught myself how to hotwire a car.

  “I already told you, baby, I’m right here.” Steroid freak gives me a grin that sends a chill down my spine. Then he reaches for me, to do who knows what. I never get to find out, because I grab his wrist and twist his arm.

  “Fuck!” he howls in pain. “Let go of me, you bitch.”

  “Not until you tell me where Blaise is,” I threaten, twisting his arm harder.

  Scab face starts to lunge for me, and I lift my leg, preparing to kick him in the balls. He notices before I make contact and swings around, coming at me from the side while steroid freak reaches for something in his pocket.

  My pulse quickens. Crap, this is getting out of hand fast.

  “Hadley …? What the hell?” Blaise appears in the doorway of the living room.

  I breathe in relief, so thankful to see him, which is a bit strange, but justifiable.

  “Hey,” I say, sounding all casual, though I’m one twist away from breaking steroid freak’s arm.

  Blaise tilts his head curiously as he assesses the scene. “What’re you doing?”

  “Oh, you know, just getting acquainted with your friends.” I release steroid freak’s arm and step back as he whirls toward me. “I don’t think they like me.”

  Steroid freak glares at me, gripping his arm. “You’re going to pay for that,” he growls, stepping toward me.

  “Touch her and I’ll break your fingers,” Blaise warns. “And I’ll make sure my father knows how shitty you treated Mel’s daughter.”

  Steroid freak slams to a screeching halt. “You’re Mel’s daughter?” Nervousness edges into his features.

  “Yeah …?” I glance at Blaise for help. “How does this dude know my dad?”

  “Because he works for—”

  “D, don’t you and El have some shit to do?” Blaise cuts steroid freak off, crossing the room toward us.

  “Wait. Your names are El and D?” My gaze flicks between the two guys standing near me, and I snicker. “Let me guess. You shortened your real names so you could remember them. Or did you just forget them altogether and picked a letter from the alphabet?”

  D glowers at me, but with a quick, stern look from Blaise, he looks away to El. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot of shit to get done, and I’m over dealing with girl drama.”

  “Yeah, like I’m the one who started it,” I mutter as El and D move for the door.

  D throws me a dirty look before walking out, and El follows, slamming the door.

  Blaise immediately gapes at me. “Seriously, how has that mouth of yours never gotten you in trouble before?”

  “Who says it hasn’t?” When he shakes his head unfathomably, I shrug. “You should already know I speak my mind. It’s what made you hate me right from the start.”

  “I didn’t and still don’t hate you,” he insists, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You just … I don’t know, threw me off a bit. You’re very …” He considers something carefully. “Well, I think Alex said it best when he said you’re feisty.”

  “I’m not feisty,” I deny. “I just don’t like to put up with guy drama.”

  “Guy drama?” His brow cocks. “All I did was call you sweetheart, and you told me to go fuck myself and then some.”

  “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I like to be called vomit-inducing pet names,” I scoff. “Guys need to realize that.”

  “No one’s ever complained about me doing it before,” Blaise points out. “In fact, most girls like it when I call them, as you put it, vomit-inducing pet names.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a special kind of girl then, I guess. But I know I’m not one of a kind. You should consider that the next time you start throwing around gross pet names to complete strangers.”

  He silently stares at me, either irritated or utterly thrown off—I can’t tell. “I’ll make sure to do that.” He pauses. “But I definitely disagree with you not being one of a kind. You’re very odd.”

  “Gee, thanks … I think.”

  “It’s not a bad thing,” he quickly says. “Just different.”

  “I wouldn’t care if it was bad or not,” I tell him confidently. “I’ve been called a hell of a lot worse than odd.”

  “Yeah, I’m not that surprised.”

  When I attempt to glare at him, although my lips become traitorous bastards and threaten to turn upward, he chuckles and shakes his head.

  “Hadley, you almost just broke a drug dealer’s arm, and I’m guessing that probably isn’t the first time you’ve done something like that. That’s not normal.”

  “Hey, I’ve never tried to break a drug dealer’s arm before,” I deny indignantly. As his brows elevate in doubt, I heave a dramatic sigh. “Okay, it may have happened one other time. But in my defense, both times the guys deserved it. The first dude screwed around with my sister and cheated on her. And that D guy”—I aim a finger at the door—“was reaching for me first before I grabbed his arm. It was total self-defense.”

  “I believe you. D can be a real prick, which is part of the reason I didn’t have you come in here with me to begin with.”

  I raise my hands in front of me. “Look, dude, you left me in the car with the windows up for over an hour, and we’re in the middle of nowhere; what else was I supposed to do? It’s not like I could’ve texted you. I don’t even have your number.”

  He bites back a smile. “Is that your way of asking for my number?”

  “What? No.” I pull a repulsed face. “That’s the last thing I want.”

  “Sure it is.” His cockiness returns in full form, smirk and all. It makes me want to smack that smugness right of his pretty boy face.

  Instead, I settle for poking him in the chest. “Didn’t I just tell you not to assume I want certain things?”

  His smirk doubles. “It’s not an assumption if you just said you wanted it.”

  “Good
God, you’re so annoying,” I growl out. Then I raise my chin and turn for the door. “You know what? I’m out of here. I’ve done my favor for the day. I don’t need to deal with this crap.”

  He snags the bottom of my shirt before I make it too far. “I’m not going to just let you walk home. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  I rotate around and try to pry his fingers from the back of my shirt. “Let me? You can’t make me do anything.”

  He refuses to let go. “I know, but … we have a deal. You owe me a favor.”

  “You said my silence was today’s favor,” I grit through my teeth, resorting to tugging on my shirt.

  “Yeah, well, I want two favors this morning.” He holds my shirt tighter.

  “No way. I’m not just going to give you an extra favor.” Deep down, I don’t really want to walk home. But the fact that he thinks he can tell me not to is infuriating.

  “Will you just quit arguing? You’re just being difficult to be difficult.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes you are.” He heaves an exasperated breath when I tug on my shirt again. “Will you please just listen to me for a minute? I’m not trying to be controlling. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Sure you are.” I yank on my shirt again, refusing to listen. Sure, we may have had a small moment of understanding in the car, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him boss me around now.

  When I pull on my shirt again, I throw my weight into it and end up losing my balance. I trip backward, my fingers falling from my shirt as I reach out to grip his arm for support. But he stumbles over his own feet and we both end up falling.

  I wince as my back hits the floor and Blaise lands on top of me, his chest pressing against mine. He does manage to get his hands down at the very last second, softening some of the impact, but his knees bang against my shins.

  He hurriedly pushes back, staring down at me worriedly. “Holy shit, are you okay?”