at
Chance’s toys, conceding that his friend lived a charmed
life.
His life would’ve been like this if his father hadn’t been
forced to abandon his family. Wesley remembered the
piles of toys he’d had when he was little, the expansive
bedroom painted with blue sailboats, the platform that
had held a running train with a real switching station, the
navy-and-gray uniform of the private school he’d
attended. When his father had been indicted, the train
had been sold along with the house. And although Wesley
had been allowed to finish the year at his school, by the
next fall, his parents had been gone for several months.
Carlotta had sat him down and explained that they didn’t
have the money for private school, and soothed him with
the promise that he’d have much more fun in public
school, anyway.
He hadn’t. He’d been a shy, smart little kid with big
glasses, a prime target for bul ies. And he’d missed his
parents terribly. He’d saved his acting out for home. In
hindsight, he’d been a real pain in the ass to his sister…and
it seemed that things hadn’t changed much. Ten years
later, he was stil getting shoved around, and was stil
being a pain in the ass to his sister.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Get that, wil you, man?” Chance shouted.
Wesley looked up to see his friend talking on his cel phone
in the kitchen and scribbling on a piece of paper. He
pushed himself to his feet and got a head rush from the
painkil er. Chance was right—the OxyContin was damn
good stuff. Wes walked careful y to the door and opened
it, then balked.
E.’s boyfriend, Leonard, stood there, tall, dark and beefy.
“Is Hol ander around?”
“Uh, yeah, he’s on the phone. Come on in.”
When Wesley stepped aside to al ow him to pass, he
noticed the man was carrying a black gym bag similar to
the one that Chance had asked him to deliver to some
shady character in a shadier part of town—the errand that
E. had thwarted. It was ironic that her boyfriend appeared
to have picked up where Wesley’d left off.
He closed the door. “I’m Wes.”
Leonard flicked his gaze over him as he paced. “Yeah,
we’ve met before.”
“Right. I didn’t know if you—”
“Hol ander!” Leonard yel ed, obviously impatient.
From the kitchen, Chance held up a finger—his middle
one—but wrapped up his conversation and snapped his
phone closed. “Wes,” he said, striding toward them,
“there’s a big game next Wednesday and you’re in it. Five
grand a seat, twenty seats, and the pot is forty large,
twenty to the winner.”
Wesley nodded, but glanced sideways at Leonard. He
didn’t trust the man with his business, and it didn’t help
that he pretty much hated him for being with E. in the first
place, and deceiving her to boot. He looked at Chance.
“I’m outta here. Call you later.”
He grabbed his backpack and banged the door shut behind
him. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, but
the OxyContin slowed him down a bit. Once he got
outside, though, the fresh air helped to clear his head. He
was unlocking his bike when he heard the sound of heavy
footsteps behind him. He recognized Leonard’s hefty
shadow before he could even look up. When he
straightened, he half expected the guy to kick sand in his
face.
“Does E. know what you do on the side?” Wesley asked,
trying to look taller.
“No,” the guy said through big, gritted teeth. “And if she
finds out, I know where to land with both feet, capiche?”
Wesley bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”
“No. Got a message for you from The Carver.”
Wesley swallowed. Shit, he didn’t see that coming. “You
work for The Carver?”
“Listen up, dickhead, because this is the deal of a lifetime.
A way to clear everything you stil owe.”
Wesley broke out in an instant sweat, exacerbated by the
drug pumping through his bloodstream. Deal of a lifetime?
Something told him this
Chance’s toys, conceding that his friend lived a charmed
life.
His life would’ve been like this if his father hadn’t been
forced to abandon his family. Wesley remembered the
piles of toys he’d had when he was little, the expansive
bedroom painted with blue sailboats, the platform that
had held a running train with a real switching station, the
navy-and-gray uniform of the private school he’d
attended. When his father had been indicted, the train
had been sold along with the house. And although Wesley
had been allowed to finish the year at his school, by the
next fall, his parents had been gone for several months.
Carlotta had sat him down and explained that they didn’t
have the money for private school, and soothed him with
the promise that he’d have much more fun in public
school, anyway.
He hadn’t. He’d been a shy, smart little kid with big
glasses, a prime target for bul ies. And he’d missed his
parents terribly. He’d saved his acting out for home. In
hindsight, he’d been a real pain in the ass to his sister…and
it seemed that things hadn’t changed much. Ten years
later, he was stil getting shoved around, and was stil
being a pain in the ass to his sister.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Get that, wil you, man?” Chance shouted.
Wesley looked up to see his friend talking on his cel phone
in the kitchen and scribbling on a piece of paper. He
pushed himself to his feet and got a head rush from the
painkil er. Chance was right—the OxyContin was damn
good stuff. Wes walked careful y to the door and opened
it, then balked.
E.’s boyfriend, Leonard, stood there, tall, dark and beefy.
“Is Hol ander around?”
“Uh, yeah, he’s on the phone. Come on in.”
When Wesley stepped aside to al ow him to pass, he
noticed the man was carrying a black gym bag similar to
the one that Chance had asked him to deliver to some
shady character in a shadier part of town—the errand that
E. had thwarted. It was ironic that her boyfriend appeared
to have picked up where Wesley’d left off.
He closed the door. “I’m Wes.”
Leonard flicked his gaze over him as he paced. “Yeah,
we’ve met before.”
“Right. I didn’t know if you—”
“Hol ander!” Leonard yel ed, obviously impatient.
From the kitchen, Chance held up a finger—his middle
one—but wrapped up his conversation and snapped his
phone closed. “Wes,” he said, striding toward them,
“there’s a big game next Wednesday and you’re in it. Five
grand a seat, twenty seats, and the pot is forty large,
twenty to the winner.”
Wesley nodded, but glanced sideways at Leonard. He
didn’t trust the man with his business, and it didn’t help
that he pretty much hated him for being with E. in the first
place, and deceiving her to boot. He looked at Chance.
“I’m outta here. Call you later.”
He grabbed his backpack and banged the door shut behind
him. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, but
the OxyContin slowed him down a bit. Once he got
outside, though, the fresh air helped to clear his head. He
was unlocking his bike when he heard the sound of heavy
footsteps behind him. He recognized Leonard’s hefty
shadow before he could even look up. When he
straightened, he half expected the guy to kick sand in his
face.
“Does E. know what you do on the side?” Wesley asked,
trying to look taller.
“No,” the guy said through big, gritted teeth. “And if she
finds out, I know where to land with both feet, capiche?”
Wesley bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”
“No. Got a message for you from The Carver.”
Wesley swallowed. Shit, he didn’t see that coming. “You
work for The Carver?”
“Listen up, dickhead, because this is the deal of a lifetime.
A way to clear everything you stil owe.”
Wesley broke out in an instant sweat, exacerbated by the
drug pumping through his bloodstream. Deal of a lifetime?
Something told him this
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