Page 33 of End It All

"Then think. What the hell did he tell you to do?"

Blake shrugged. "Listen and report back to him. That was it."

I nodded. "He's trying to see if you can be useful to him. Well, did you hear anything?"

Blake opened his mouth before clamping it shut.

"Keep it to yourself, I don't care, but make sure that man thinks you're useful," I warned.

"Why?"

"Because a liability only ends up one way." I pointed at his ringing pocket. "Your life's on the line."

"He wouldn't kill me," Blake said, but he didn't sound too sure.

I said nothing. He knew that was bullshit, and if he didn't he was going to find out. He better wise up fast on the world he had entered into. And he needed to do it quickly before he ended up dead.

"How do I convince him to let me leave? I tried the first time but?—"

"Give him something. What does he want that you have?"

Blake shrugged. “I don’t have anything.”

"Then ask Benito for help."

"No, I don't need that either. I just have to lay low for a bit, that's all."

Blake was a mess. I knew I shouldn’t even attempt to help him. If anything, I needed to either get him back to his dad or pass him over to Benito before wiping my hands clean of the situation. I could tell the whole thing was going to get chaotic.

I pulled out a joint. "All right, tonight we smoke this. And tomorrow you handle your shit."

Blake looked at me and then the joint in my hand. "How do I deal?"

"Good question. No fucking clue; that's why I'm getting high. You, on the other hand, are going to have to face your family."

"Fuck it, pass it over." Blake held his hand open. "I'm not dealing with shit right now."

I couldn't tell him if that was stupid or wise. Either way, I passed the joint over. Fuck it. Even I didn’t want to deal with my shit tonight.

My body feltlike it was on cloud nine. Every inch of me was both on fire and wrapped in plastic. I couldn't even describe how good I felt, but it was enough to make me grin. Whatever Quincy had given me was good shit. And he was no better. He leaned back, a smile on his face as he rambled on about something. I couldn't keep track of what we were talking about, but I assumed it was some show or cartoon.

"Me and Harlow used to watch that all the time," he muttered.

I leaned forward to take the beer from his hand. "So, like, you two fuck, right? You and Harlow?"

Quincy blinked at me, before his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I'm just saying. The way you look at him, the way he calls and you come running." He'd told me all about what happenedbefore we met that first night, what he had been doing before. Murder was not my thing, but I could see it was Quincy's. And he'd left to answer his married best friend's call. Shit was sus. "You two fuck. Or used to."

Quincy scoffed. "I ain't fucking Harlow."

"Then you want to," I pointed out.

He stared at me, his eyes wide. "I—I don't want that! He's married. The man's got a kid! He's?—"

"Unavailable, but you still want him."

Quincy glared at me. "Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you're talking about."