After she disappears through the door, I finally get my water, chugging down three small paper cups. A new buzz flows through my veins after seeing her. Too much to want to go back up to the apartment. I also don’t want to run into Webber again. Maybe I should be thankful. Would Violet be giving me the time of day if she were still committed to him?
I collect my stuff, shoving it all back into my bag and hooking the straps over my shoulders. If I can’t go back to my place without seeing a girl drool over Webber, then a run will have to do. I leave the gym and take the elevator to the ground floor. The sun is starting to set, but I have enough time to get in a decent sprint that’ll exhaust me for the rest of the night.
Once I finish, I have every intention of falling back into my cloud of a mattress and passing out until my internal alarm clock wakes me up tomorrow.
I start off slow, giving my body the chance to warm to the new movements before I pick up the pace. I’m sprinting toward campus before long. It’s not too far, a few blocks, and when I make it to one of the brick buildings, I turn around and head back in the direction of Spring Meadows. I cut through a side street, not wanting to have to slow down for a red light and end up jogging down an alleyway.
The sun dips lower, making the alley look darker than beyond it. I pass by a dumpster, no doubt one that belongs to a seafood restaurant. The foul odor of fish permeates the air, almost choking me as I near the end of the narrow passageway.
Tires screech at the alley opening, and before I’m able to comprehend what’s happening, Finn’s head of black hair and the same SUV that trailed me from Gulliver’s a few weeks ago comes into view.
His face, always the depiction of calamity, forms into a sneer when he sees me. My feet come to a stop, and I glance over my shoulder. If I were less of a man, I’d run for the opening at the other end, but it’d only be a matter of time before he caught up.
He’ll be a nuisance as long as I owe him money.
“Colson, Colson, Colson.” He stops in front of me. My hands tighten on the straps of my bookbag, causing my muscles to tense as I catch my breath.
“How the hell have you been?” He gets a cigarette out, lights it, and holds it between his lips. I think he does it to remind me of our last altercation. The burn he left on my neck has healed, but a scar is left in its wake.
Not wanting to beat around the bush, I rasp out between breaths, “Listen, I have some of what is owed, but not all of it.I can make a small payment toward it if that’ll make you feel better.”
I’ve managed to scrounge up some from Gulliver’s since that first Gauntlet Sunday. Enough to make a tiny dent.
A boisterous laugh comes from him when he pinches his cigarette from his mouth. He thinks this is comical, but not in the funny, ha-ha sense. He glances back at the SUV—the one I’m sure his drug money bought. I can tell Clyde is in the passenger seat. Just like he was the night at the battery plant, he’s here for a show. Next to him in the driver’s seat is one of their goons. To anyone else, it looks like they pulled off the road for no particular reason. No one will suspect a thing. Not unless they’re there for an unreasonable amount of time.
“When did we set up a payment plan, Moore?” he questions. “Because I don’t think I was present for that conversation.”
My jaw clenches. “We didn’t.”
“I didn’t think so. I thought I made myself clear the last time we ran into each other.”
I look off to the side then back at him. We didn’trun into each other. Hefollowedme. Tracked me down. Like he probably did today. He was waiting for me outside of the apartment building. Most nights I don’t leave after I come in from work. He got lucky that I decided to go for a run.
He grits his teeth, grinding them before sucking half his cigarette down then flicking it to the side. “Your lack of payment has Clyde on my fucking back. Has him wondering if I know what I’m doing.” He lifts a hand, waving to the car behind him. “I don’t like being doubted.”
One of the men who held me against Sebastian’s car while Finn pressed his lit cigarette into my neck exits the back seat. He walks with surety as he approaches. Even lifts his knuckles and cracks them.
“I have three grand,” I tell Finn, moving my gaze back to him. “It’s not on me, but I can get it to you today.”
“You owe me ten.”
“It’s better than nothing.”
He weighs this out, bobbing his head side to side. “I’m not here for better than nothing. I’m here forallmy goddamn money.” He points at me, spitting his words next. “Money that your drug whore of a fucking mother screwed us over on. Neither of you can take care of your shit.”
A rage as hot as lava courses through me.
This isn’tmyshit to fix.
He dragged me into it because he knew an addict wouldn’t have the tenacity to get him what she owed. The first fifty in her pocket would’ve gone back out on the streets.
I scoff. “What are you going to do, Finn? Beat me up?”
I’m fed up with his games, with him pushing me the fuck around.
He flicks his finger at his muscle, who walks toward me slowly. “There’s worse I could do, Moore. Consider yourself lucky that this is all you’ll be getting tonight.”
I consider his crony’s weight, noting that while he’s tall like me, he has a gut that screams out his nighttime routine of spending it in front of the TV with a twelve pack. And while his arms look like he might lift weights, his legs look weak. Though I can’t be one-hundred-percent certain since his jeans hang on him in a way that keeps them partially hidden.
