Page 192 of The Fine Line
“Yeah, well, we’ve got an extra-long offseason. Best you take advantage of it.”
“That’s the plan, Cap.”
It isn’t.
My phone buzzes.
“Is Nettie coming?” Jimmy asks.
“She texted me a bit ago,” Shelly replies. “Should be here soon.”
Sid: I’m outside.
Sid: Alley around the corner.
Thank God.
I duck out the front, avoiding every player in sight. I turn the corner and spot the silhouette—beanie and all.
“Hey,” I say, moving toward him. My vision doubles, and I brace myself against the brick wall.
Sid’s eyes narrow. “You look like shit.”
“Still better looking than you,” I slur. “Did you bring it?”
He crosses his arms. “How many Oxys did you have today?”
“A few.”
A lie. I lost count.
“And how much have you had to drink?”
“Some.” My voice is clipped. “Did you bring it?”
“Liquor or?—”
“Sid. Did you bring the fucking coke or not?” I push off the wall, swallowing a wave of nausea.
He frowns. “You know, Sutty, I’m not your mom. And I’m not loving this arrangement lately.”
“I’m sorry.” I soften my tone. “I just... miscalculated. I need a pick-me-up. Please.”
A beat. Then a sigh. “Fine.”
He unzips his bag and pulls out a two-gram baggie. I reach for it, but he yanks it back.
“Four hundred.”
“Four?” I choke. “What happened to two?”
“Delivery fee.”
Whatever. I pull out four crisp hundreds and shove them at him.
He hands over the coke. “See you later?”
I’m already halfway back inside. “Maybe,” I call over my shoulder. knowing damn well I will be stopping at his place on the way home.
