or Houston if we got pulled over. But that’s not what has me feeling twitchy. Thinking of being next to that wall, the memory of the fear flooding my veins as I ran, the sound of the gun as it went off... My lungs constrict and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Where do you want this?” I ask.
“Bottom of my backpack will do. Your envelope of cash is in there somewhere.”
I root through his pack crammed with folders and books and loose sheets of paper. One book is titled Aerospace Engineering. Dear Lord, not that I’ve ever been on a plane, but now I definitely will never fly the friendly skies. “You’re a freaking hoarder, aren’t you?”
“I prefer the term ‘loosely organized.’”
I hide the gallon-sized bag of pot under his mess of crap and withdraw my envelope. A quick count confirms I’m paid in full.
“Ready for me to drop you off or would you like to hang for a bit? Maybe share why you look like something that barely made it out of hazing week?”
My eyes flicker from the passenger-side mirror to the rearview mirror. The car behind us is different than the one before. “U-turn at the gas station and then come back the way we came.”
Houston does and I hate how he keeps bouncing his gaze over at me like he’s my friend or something. I gave up friends and I don’t need to give up any more.
“Was last week really about supply issues?”
No, it wasn’t. I check the mirrors again. No cars behind us. My stomach twists, untwists, then twists again. Paranoia comes with the territory of this job, but I’m walking a fine line. Houston was my easy sell, the rest can be questionable, and I need to chill the freak out.
A buzz with a text from my next buyer. His name is Karl and he’s a newer client. I took him on to make Ricky happy but the guy gives me the creeps. Every time I’m near him the hair on my arms stands on end and I’m bombarded by made-up images of him torturing puppies with lit cigarettes while watching porn on the internet.
I blow out an unsteady breath as I have to sell to him next. My face flushes hot and I lean my head against the colder glass of the window. I won’t allow Karl to pull away from the curb. Ricky will say something, but I don’t care. This deal will be done within screaming distance. I can do this. I can do my job.
After him will be Oscar. Oscar likes to try to “mistakenly” touch me. My thighs. My breast. He never gets far and his “mistakes” never last longer than seconds. Selling to Oscar results in hot showers that nearly cause third-degree burns, but Oscar buys more than anyone else. Oscar keeps my grandmother safe.
“Abby,” Houston pushes. “Are you okay? I’m serious, you look like shit.”
“Pull over here.”
Because Houston has played this game before, he does without argument. I put my fingers on the handle and when I crack the door open, he says, “If you’ve got problems, I’ve got ears.”
Great. Even my clients think they’re shrinks. “Next time I want smaller bills.” I ease out of the car and walk away. One deal down without dying. Too many more to go.
* * *
For the first time, I’m thankful for the ramp going up Grams’s porch. My feet and legs ache, my stomach sloshes, and my head and shoulder hurt. I weakly clutch a bag of antibiotics and wish I could take the painkillers the doctor also prescribed, but once again, I don’t possess the luxury of time—not even to heal.
It’s eleven at night. Can’t decide if I’m early or late. I haven’t seen Grams in too long. I haven’t seen a shred of myself in what feels like forever. Hearts were broken today, mine included. Deals were done. My boss and my bodyguard were happy. Somehow, I just feel terrified, exhausted, and hollow.
The large oak door whines when I open it and makes a clunking sound when I shut it behind me and lock it. Triple lock it. With the knob, the chain then the dead bolt. Not that the locks would keep out a shooter, but I’ve kept this place a secret like my father did. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep it a secret a little while longer.
I turn and my heart leaps into my throat. A quick recognition and the sucking in of air prevents