Marco’s scowl deepened. “You should have told me, man,” he said, his voice gruff.
I laughed. “Why? So we could talk about our feelings and crap? That’s not how we work. I wasn’t going to tell you that kind of thing.”
Marco actually seemed a little hurt.
“I would have understood, you know. My mom went to rehab when I was a kid. I would have gotten it.”
I was shocked. I didn’t know much about Marco’s past. We weren’t the type of friends to braid each other’s hair and talk about deep stuff. I didn’t know anything about his parents or where he came from. It had never mattered.
I had been so shallow.
“I didn’t know. Sorry, dude,” I said sincerely.
Marco waved away my words. “Whatever. It’s no big deal. But I wish you had been up front with me,” he stated.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t something I wanted to broadcast.”
“Why in the hell are you doing this tonight then?” Marco asked, poking one of the bags with his finger.
“I need the money. I’m floundering big-time. I like the idea of food and electricity,” I responded.
“You don’t need to sling this stuff to make money, dickhead,” Marco scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m running out of options, so if you have any ideas, please share them.” I was getting pissed at his attitude. It was a little late to be spouting this BS. Marco tapped his fingers on the countertop, looking uncharacteristically unhappy.
“What about your art stuff ? I mean, people love that stuff. Why not try and sell it to real buyers?”
I sighed in frustration, feeling like I was banging my head against a wall.
“Dude, don’t you think I’ve already tried that? Let’s just say I didn’t make the best impression with the one gallery that I spoke with.”
Marco frowned. “It was one gallery, X, there are more out there. Why don’t you try with another one?”
I chewed on my lip, unnerved by his sudden interest in the legit parts of my life. “What’s this about, Marco? Why are you working so hard to talk me out of doing this tonight? It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I know. I thought you’d be stoked to have me back.”
Marco pushed himself away from the counter and started pacing the room. I had never seen him so worked up. Something major was happening. “What’s going on, Marco? And don’t feed me a line. Be straight with me,” I said sharply.
Marco stopped his manic pacing and looked at me. “I’ve just heard some talk,” he began.
“Yeah, you said something about rumblings at the club. What’ve you heard?”
Marco started playing with the ring in his lip. “Just some people have said that Gash has been marked by the cops. They’ve never bothered him before, but with all these fucking drugs he’s bringing into the area, they can’t ignore his operation anymore.”
Well, damn. I hadn’t expected him to say that. But that had always been part of the appeal of the club. The adrenaline rush that went with doing something you knew was wrong. “It’s probably just talk, Marco—”
“No, I really don’t think it is. I’m not one of those pussies who go on about their gut feelings, but I think there’s more to it than just talk.”
I picked up one of the bags of pills. It was heavy in my hands. I slowly unzipped it and took out one of the smaller bags containing ten tiny blue pills. I wondered if there would ever be a time when I wouldn’t want them. I wondered if I’d ever be able to get through a day without wishing I was high.
I’m tired of craving something that could kill me.
I dropped the drugs onto the counter, even if my fingers itched to touch them again. “I just think you should look at other options besides the club right now,” Marco said gruffly.
“I need the cash though, man. I mean, I really, really need it. It’ll be a one-time thing. That’s it,” I swore.
Marco laughed bitterly. “Look who you’re talking to, Maxx. You may be able to fool your chick with those words, but not me. I see the hunger on your face. Youwantit, dude. It’s all over you.”
At the mention of Aubrey I felt a little sick.
