“I got the money. Let’s
pick some up tonight.”
I love this. Charlie
Parker – one of the richest kids in this school – is begging me. All the rich
kids kneel at my feet though. They want what only I can give them.
“I don’t know
Charles,” I say. “It’s pretty dangerous, risky business, you know.” I’m
breaking his balls a little. “What if someone recognizes you? I couldn’t do
that to your reputation.”
“Come on Steel. I’m
fresh out. I wanna be there.”
He flicks his
cigarette to the side.
It’s a really
beautiful day. I’m looking up at the sky now, not even listening to Parker. I
don’t like the way he’s harassing me about my pick up. He wants in on my shit
so bad he can almost taste it. I don’t like that.
I’d never let him
run with my crew. He’s an addict and he’d cost me.
“Charlie,” I bring
down my head. “Why are you fiending? You sound like a fucking addict.”
He is immediately
insulted, and withdraws just an inch. I can tell that he can tell that the
people around us who are my friends heard me say that. They’re too cool to
laugh in his face though. Not only do they know, and I know, it’s the truth,
but he knows it too. So do his friends, who’re standing a few feet away. They
may have also heard what I said.
I continue to
insult him, making my voice shake, like I’m sick.
“You don’t want
people to think…you’re some kind of,” I gasp, “junkie, do you?”
He’s deeply
offended. I laugh right in his face.
“Very funny,
Steel.” He hands me a two hundred dollars and says, “I’ll wait till tomorrow.”
Like he had a
choice.
