Page 12 of False Start
“No, I’m not playing, Nia.” He shakes his head, a severe expression on his face. “This shit isn’t for you. I have painkillers under the microwave,” he says, as if I need reminding.
“Are you kidding me?” I’m insulted and don’t care to hide it.
He’s treating me like a fucking kid, no better than my mom.
“I’m just looking out for you,” he says softly, walking into his bedroom.
Getting mad at Ryan Lee serves me nothing except the guarantee that if I throw enough of a hissy fit, he won’t be selling me anything tonight. So I huff internally, putting away all my feelings of resentment and accepting the pills as my consolation prize.
I walk toward the microwave, lifting the countertop unit just enough to slide out a flat wooden box. “Whichones?” I ask, looking at the different clear baggies and the plethora of pills they hold.
“Blue, with the thirty on them,” he shouts from his bedroom.
They’re hard to miss, the other blue pills clearly ecstasy with their fancy little imprints of robots and flowers on them.
“How much do you want for these?” I ask, turning around to find him right behind me.
“Hmm.” His breath is hot on my shoulder as he prowls over me with his towering height from behind me. “My tub’srealdirty, kiddo.” He gives me a dark smile as I look up at him.
I sigh. “I’d say I need to hold on to what little pride I have, but I could honestly use the free shit.” Reaching under the cabinet of the kitchen sink, I rummage for whatever cleaning products I can find.
That had always been his thing. I never bothered to inquire whether there were girls who fucked him for drugs, or if there were people who owed him to the point where it was dangerous. When it came to me, his expectations were always clear, always innocent. A task, a chore, in exchange for what I needed.
There were many times in college when I thought back to Ryan and how I’d made it through the most turbulent time of my life unscathed. High as fuck, almost always deathly out of it, but neverindanger. Because, for some reason, he was, in his own way, always looking out for me. If I blacked out from drinking, I’d wake up tucked safely in his bed, clothed. If I was up too long rolling, he’d kick out any strangers to make sure I didn’t get taken advantage of during the night.
It’s taken a lot of years to realize the privilege that came with our friendship.
Privilege that extends far beyond free drugs.
“Can I ask you something?” I can’t keep it in anymore. My brain is doing the thing it does, and I have to know for myself, have to process it outwards and not just in my own head.
“What?” He puts on the tired big brother tone he’s so good at using with me.
“Why did you keep me around so long?” I ask, and a confused look spreads on his face. “You know what I mean. You never tried anything, never took advantage of me when you very well could have, never asked for more than I was willing to give.” The word vomit flows out easily, like the rehearsal in my own mind was enough preparation.
“I don’t rape women, Nia. There’s plenty around who give it to me for free.” He takes that same annoyed tone as when I made the prison joke, like he’s not happy about his morals and ethics being called into question. As if he’s not a fucking drug dealer.
A good-looking one at that, with all his teeth, which is fucking rare for this town.
“Okay. My bad.” I raise my hands, one wrapped firmly around a bottle of cleaner and the other a scrubber.
He lets out an exhaustive sigh. “I kept you around cuz you made me look good. Because I trusted you more than I trusted my runners,” he confesses anyway. “Every other bitch coming in here was blown out of their minds, trying to fuck me or fuck me over. Half of them were Xanni-ed out on my couch, head in another universe with drool pouring out of their mouths. Dealers were coming in and out of the house back then, but there you were, pretty littleNia. My golden trophy, sitting on the chair, doingjustthe right amount of the good stuff to be sweet and social. Making a great impression. You’re part of the reason I’m king of this empire now. Remember that year before you left, when I had you in charge of weighing my blow?” He chuckles at the memory. “That was hot as hell. Every minor league pusher was jealous of me, and every major leaguer was impressed.”
I hold back the smile, the compliment doing more than it probably should, but I’m feeling fragile as fuck at the moment, and my vulnerabilities are starting to leak out.
“I’m not upset by any means.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying to laugh it off. “Just something I thought a lot about over the years. How lucky I was to have had you in my life and never get caught in a situation where I got taken advantage of, or have you put me in awkward positions of having to turn down your advances.”
“My advances? First of all, you remind me too much of my little sister.” That confused look appears once again. “Second, why would I hit on a gay chick?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.” I frown. “I’m just now starting to realize it myself.”
“Do you not remember the night Big Ricky brought his girlfriend over and we blasted through an eight ball in an hour? The two of you made out for half the night. I thought he was going to kill you for trying to steal his woman.” He grabs the cleaner from my hand and then the scrubber.
I laugh, unable to pull that memory from deep within the dungeons of my mind. “I donotremember that night. How is she?”
“Dead, I think. Ricky went to prison for assault.” He walks around me, placing the cleaning products back under the sink.
“Fuck,” I whisper, never getting more than a moment to forget just how easily life took from us.
