Halfway through the class, my phone vibrates against my leg. I pull it out of my jeans, and my stomach churns at the message waiting for me.
Blade: Meet me at the spot in ten.
I could try telling him I'm in class, but it's not like he'd give a shit. The only thing that prick cares about is himself. Instead, I pack up my things and leave the room, despite the teacher watching me like I've lost my mind. To be honest, I may have.
The spot he's referring to is in the basement of an abandoned house. It's the old-school kind, with two doors in the backyard you need to pull open just to reveal the stairs. I take a cigarette out of the pack and slip it between my lips as I make my way there. Lord knows I need the nicotine.
Campus is filled with students—some eager to learn, others not so much. You can always tell who's a freshman by the way their eyes hold so much hope and so little sleep. Over time, the hope dies, but the sleep-deprivation remains the same.
“About damn time,” Blade whines as I walk into the back yard.
I roll my eyes. “Fuck off, asshole. I was in the middle of class.”
“Oh, boo hoo. Is Baby Bronsyn sad he's missing precious learning time?”
To be honest, one of the enduring fantasies of my life is throat-punching him. He's the most irritating fuck I've ever met in my life, and I've been around plenty of scumbags. Yet, for some reason, he's intimidating as hell. Maybe it's because I know he carries a switchblade in his back pocket at all times. After all, that’s where his notorious nickname comes from.
“Can we just get this over with?” I ask. “I've got shit to do.”
He snorts and raises his hands. “Whatever you want, princess.”
He pulls open the doors and the two of us walk down the stairs. It's musty in here, as always, and the only light that filters in is from the small, dirty windows. Blade flicks on the lantern he keeps down here, illuminating the space, which he’s furnished with two shitty plastic lawn chairs I’m pretty sure he pulled from the trash. Then, he opens his backpack and takes out a rather large package.
“I need you to move this shit for me.”
I eye it carefully, taking it into my hands. “What is it?”
His brows furrow. “Does it fucking matter?”
“If you want me to leave this damn room with it, fuck yeah, it matters,” I snap.
He rolls his eyes and pulls out a notebook. “Heroin. Ray was supposed to do it, but the pigs have been all over him lately. I can't risk this shit getting confiscated.”
I'm shaking my head before he even stops talking. “No. No way in hell. I'm not touching that shit.”
Stopping to stare at me for a second, a dry laugh starts to leave his mouth. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot when you had a goddamn say in the matter.” He thumps me in the chest with the paper-wrapped package. “Unless you want me to go see Donovan again?”
It's obvious he has me exactly where he wants me, so with narrowed eyes, I take the package from him and slip it into my bag.
Getting involved with Blade was never something I wanted. He's bad fucking news, and the kind of person everyone should stay far as hell away from. Unfortunately, Easton learned that the hard way. Last year, he got wrapped up with him and ended up with a pretty serious drug addiction. The only way to get him out if it, to keep Blade away from him, was to propose a trade—me for him.
Blade was reluctant at first. After all, when E was feening for another fix, he would do anything the fucker said just to get his hands on something. But ultimately, Blade agreed. It's probably because I'm less of a liability than Easton. The best way to deal drugs is to stay smart and not do them. All that mattered to me, however, is that it got E away from the shit.
“While I'm here, let me get some kush.”
He snorts and shakes his head while reaching back into his bag. “I swear, you're the only shithead I know that still only smokes pot.”
I shrug. “Mellows me out. Besides, we're having a party tonight.”
/> Pouring some out onto a pocket scale, he weighs it and puts it into a separate baggie. “And I wasn't invited? How disappointing.”
“Whatever, asshole.” I hand him the money, and he hands me the goods. “You know the deal. Stay the fuck away from E.”
He takes a step back and grins smugly. “Don't worry. I won't go near your little party, but maybe you can use it to get rid of some of that shit. Boss is getting antsy having so much product on hand with the level of heat there's been lately.”
Yeah, well, maybe Boss shouldn't have gotten involved in an illegal drug ring. The thought goes through my head, but I don't dare to say it out loud. Blade is a piece of shit and would rat me out just to watch the fallout. I zip up my bag and nod at him.
“Anything else?”