Page 13 of The Fake
“I’m thinking Shaw and Datson. Get our starters under one roof.”
“What about Wickers?”
“Nah, he’s got a place off-campus already with his girlfriend.” Joel’s phone vibrates on the counter. “That’s Katrina. I’m heading over to her place before practice. Think about it and if you’re cool with it, we’ll let them know today.”
After Joel leaves for his girlfriend’s place, I grab a Powerade from the fridge and head up to my room. I plug my cell phone in and lay down on my bed. When it has enough juice to turn back on, I read through the texts I missed last night.
Wes: Local paper wants a picture of starters.
Wes: Dude, where are you? We’re waiting on you.
Wes: ?
Shaw: Wes is about to blow a gasket. Where are you?
Well, that sucks. Day one of being co-captain, and I’m already screwing it up. I keep scrolling, respond to a text from Gabby about hanging tomorrow, and then I brace myself to open the final message.
Frank: Come over at five so I can set you up for the week. Got some new stuff to test out, see if there’s any interest in it.
I still haven’t told Frank about getting busted. I don’t know why I’m dragging my feet. I know I’m lucky I didn’t get caught sooner. Almost two years I’ve been selling. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being such a big deal. Not getting caught will do that to you—make you believe what you’re doing isn’t hurting anyone.
It isn’t like I was proud of it, but Heath and the guilt… that’s harder to live with than the logistics of how I was making my money. And I guess that’s really why I haven’t texted Frank yet. Once I’m out, the money will stop, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the guilt.
One problem at a time. Right now, I need to get rid of this hangover so I can make it through practice today.
* * *
The next afternoon, Gabby and I are floating on matching unicorn floaties when I give her the rundown of my colossal fuck up.
She’s quiet for too long. Something distinctively un-Gabby-like. My best friend is never shy about voicing her opinion.
“Say something. Please.”
“I think I’m in shock.” She reaches over and takes my hand. “Why?”
“I needed money. You know what it’s been like with my mom and Heath.”
She gives me a look that calls bullshit. She’s the only person I’ve confided in about things back home, or most of it at least, but her face tells me it’s not a good enough reason. “Selling drugs has to be the worst way to make money. This could have ended so much worse, Nathan.”
“I know. I know. Honest. I do.”
The thing about Gabby is that even when she doesn’t understand my choices, I know she still cares about me. She’s honest to God the best friend I’ve ever had. A few months ago, I thought my feelings for her might be more than friendship, but then she hooked up with my buddy and teammate Zeke. Seeing how happy she is now makes me realize things worked out exactly like they were supposed to.
“I can’t have a regular job—my scholarship comes with all sorts of stipulations.”
“I’m pretty sure no dealing drugs is somewhere in the fine print,” she mocks.
“I was desperate and dumb. I thought it’d just be the one time. I’d make some quick cash to send home and be done, and then… well, it wasn’t.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
Her mouth falls open, and I know that look will haunt me. It’s not judgment; it’s pity.
“But you’re done now?”
“Yeah.”
