“The police station is on the other side of town. The force just laid off three officers, so they’re bare-bones right now. I don’t see much of a problem,” Marco piped up, filling in what I should have already known.

This is the sort of research I normally would have done. Marco was picking up the slack, and I definitely owed him one.

“I’ll get one of the guys to poke around a bit, see if there’s someone we can talk to about making sure we don’t have any problems on Saturday,” Marco said, glancing at me out of his peripheral vision. Could it be any more obvious I hadn’t done a thing?

And it wasn’t lost on Gash. He regarded me as though I were shit on his shoe.

“And what the fuck have you been doing while Marco has been doing your job? What the hell am I paying you for? A little painting here and there doesn’t cut it. Sit up and stop fucking slouching!” Gash demanded. I felt like a kid in the principal’s office. Would my punishment be detention or an ass beating?

I sat up in my chair slowly. I couldn’t help but be oppositional about it. I was a tit like that.

“I’ve had a lot of shit going on,” I offered by way of an excuse, though I knew it was lame at best. My pathetic justification obviously made Gash really, really angry.

He leaned over his desk, his lips peeled back to bare his yellowed teeth, lines forming between his eyebrows. “I don’t care what is going on, you have a job to do, so do it! Marco shouldn’t be doing the shit I pay you for.” Gash jerked his thumb at Marco, who had all but disappeared into the upholstery of the chair. Not drawing attention to yourself when Gash was pissed was a matter of survival, plain and simple.

I nodded curtly. “I get it; it won’t happen again,” I said.

“Vin said he dropped off the week’s product to you a couple of days ago. I want the money on Sunday. Not Monday. Not Tuesday. But fucking Sunday! I’ve got my eye on you and I’m not happy with what I’m seeing,” Gash warned, running his finger along the scar under his eye.

He had been stabbed in the face by a junked-out crackhead a few years ago. The crackhead was dead. Gash was still here. Point made.

I nodded again. “You’ll get it, not a problem.” Too bad it was actually a very big problem.

“You’re looking a little shaky. You all right?” Gash asked, eyeing me shrewdly. He was no dumb shit. I knew that he knew I was coming down . . . hard.

“It’s those downers. You need something to bring you up. Try this. Just get yourself together. I don’t need a damned junkie selling my shit. That’s a liability I do not want,” he growled, tossing a baggie of dried leaves in my lap.

I opened it and gave it a sniff. What was this? It didn’t smell like weed. Maybe it was some crazy hallucinogenic.

“It’s an herbal tea, dipshit. Ginkgo biloba, a little bit of ginseng. It’s good for the blood flow to the brain. Go home and make yourself a cup.”

I wanted to laugh my ass off at the irony. Gash, the biggest drug pusher this side of New York, was offering me a bag of herbal fucking tea.

I chanced a look at Marco, who was chewing the inside of his cheek as he also tried not to laugh at our boss peddling his hardcore herbal remedies.

“Sure, sounds great,” I said, tucking the bag in my pocket.

Gash pointed at me. “I’m serious, you have this weekend to show me you can still handle all of this. Because next week I’m getting a shipment of stuff up from Mexico that can make everyone a hell of a lot of money. I need to know you’ll do what I need you to do.”

Marco and I got to our feet. “You got it, Gash,” I promised.

“And drink some of that tea,” our boss instructed as we left. I patted my pocket in agreement.

Out in the parking lot, I wiped sweat off my forehead. I needed to get home. I needed to even myself out. Fuck the tea.

“You got off pretty easy in there, Maxx. You need to listen to what Gash was telling you,” Marco lectured.

I rolled my eyes, sick of hearing the same ol’ shit.

It’s only when I’d gotten home and had taken another couple of pills that I remembered Aubrey. Before passing out, I wondered if she had come by. Maybe I should call her. Explain what had happened.

But then the high took over, and I forgot all about Aubrey.

I forgot about everything.

aubrey

i was pissed.

No, I was livid.

I had gone by Maxx’s apartment last night and pounded on the door. He hadn’t answered. So I had waited outside. In the freezing cold. For hours!

And he had never showed.

I had tried phoning him, but the call went straight to voice mail. I had been tempted to call back over and over again, but I had controlled the urge.

So now I was not only angry and hurt but also ready to inflict bodily harm the next time I saw him.

Our relationship was only weeks old, but already we were failing at it miserably. What chance did we have when I was mired in distrust and wariness? I knew that if he wasn’t with me, he was most likely doing something that would break my heart.

I knew he was being unfaithful.

But he wasn’t with another woman. He was spending all of his time with the tiny white pills he was so fond of.

I came out of the psychology building and pulled my hood up over my hair. It had started to snow while I was in class, and I wished I could appreciate the white silence that had descended. But I couldn’t. I was too wound up.

“Aubrey!”

My head snapped up to see Maxx hurrying across the quad, his book bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was wet from the falling snow, his curls plastered to his forehead. He was smiling a megawatt grin as he hurried toward me. I had been hoping to get off campus before seeing him. I should have known better. His knowledge of my schedule was disconcerting.

And to see him now, he looked like any other college student. But I knew what dwelled beneath the surface—an ugly darkness dressed up with his beautiful face.

I thought about ignoring him and walking away, but I knew he would only follow me. And I wasn’t going to try to outrun him across campus.

So I waited until he caught up with me.

He reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled back before he could touch me.

Maxx grimaced. “Right, I forgot where we were. Sorry,” he said, but his smile returned, brighter than ever.

“Are you done with classes for the day?” he asked, falling into step beside me.

I didn’t answer him, my irritation and frustration making communication impossible.

As the silence between us grew, Maxx’s smile slipped, and he frowned. He grabbed hold of my arm to stop me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.

“I waited for you last night,” I told him coldly, narrowing my eyes.

Maxx hung his head. “Right. I knew you were coming by. I’m sorry,” he said. He lifted his eyes to look at me, his face a plea for me to forgive him.

“Where were you?” I asked, letting my annoyance bleed through.

“Marco came by. We had to go out for a bit,” he told me, giving a minimal explanation.

I could ask what they were doing, but I probably didn’t want to know. And I doubt he would have told me anyway. His life at Compulsion was something we never talked about. It was the wall between us.

“Why didn’t you call me then? To at least tell me you wouldn’t be at home?” I asked, trying really hard to hold on to my irritation. It was hard when Maxx looked so contrite.

He began to gnaw on his bottom lip as drops of melting snow slid down his face. “I should have called you. I didn’t. I don’t have an excuse, at least none that would make you feel better. Just know that I’m sorry and that I’d rather be with you than anywhere else in the world,” he said, and for some reason, his lack of justification went a long way toward soothing my anger.