Page 13 of Snared Rider

“I don’t have any cash.”

She reaches out, her rough hands scraping over my bare arms. Instinctively, I tug out of her grasp and step back, putting distance between us. I don’t want her touching me.

If she’s offended by my rejection she doesn’t show it. Truthfully, I’d be surprised if she knew what day of the week it is, let alone the fact I’ve just recoiled in horror from her.

“I just need a little. Just a little.” She brings up her hand, her thumb and forefinger a few centimetres apart to illustrate just how little, and my stomach bottoms out. Even though I knew she was here for money, there was a part of me that thought maybe, just maybe, she was here for me. I can’t stop the disappointment from rolling through me and I hate that I feel it. “I’m behind on rent and I need food.” She gives me a wretched look. Christ. She’s really going all out tonight, but I’m not buying what she’s selling. “I’m hungry, baby.”

A few years back these words would have hit me in the gut and I would have done everything in my power to help her, but I know better now. If she doesn’t have money for basics, it’s because she’s drank it or shot it into her arms. I’m not feeding her drug habit.

I pull up my defences, harden my heart against her and snap, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m fourteen. I don’t have the kind of money you want.”

She reaches for me again, but I side-step her as her irritation breaks through the front she’s put up. Gina might think she’s the consummate actress, but she’s not even a Z-lister.

“Just give me what you have.”

“I don’t have anything.”

Her face contorts with anger and in that moment, she shows me the real Gina. “You ungrateful bitch! I gave you everything!”

I snort at this lie. She gave me nothing. Dad gave me everything—Dad and the Club.

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even be fucking standing there with that self-righteous look on your face.”

Like birthing me means I’m indebted to her for the rest of my life. I shake my head.

“Call me whatever you want; it’s not going to change the facts. I don’t have money to give you.”

“This shit’s takin’ too long, Gee.” A male voice from behind her has my gaze snapping in that direction.

A man is getting out of a car parked (badly, I might add) at the side of the road. In my haste to get rid of Gina I hadn’t even noticed it and I kick myself mentally for being so unaware of my surroundings. I can handle my mother; she’s about twenty pounds lighter than me and she’s permanently fucked up on substances. But this bloke? He doesn’t look like a typical druggie. He’s not yet got to that gaunt, sallow look that long-term users have, although I can see where he’s losing some of his bulk by the way his clothes hang on him. He’s probably a new user, someone else Gina dragged down the rabbit hole with her.

My entire body goes rigid as he strides towards us both and as he does I can tell he’s using because his eyes are darting about frenetically and his hands are twitching. His dark hair was probably once thick, full and lovely, but it’s now on the wrong side of greasy and looks too long. This doesn’t concern me. What does is the feral glint in his eye that tells me he’s gone well past time for his next fix. This scares the shit out of me. Addicts can be unpredictable when they need to score. I learnt this the hard way with my mother.

Immediately, I regret the choice to come out here alone. I should have told Tap. I should have let him and the lads handle this.

Should have, could have, would have.

None of that helps me now.

Gina’s friend focuses on me, his gaze raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. Instinctively, I fold my arms over my chest to protect myself from his roving eyes.

Pervy McPervy.

Gross.

The man finally drags his gaze from me to glance at Gina. “She got the money?”

Gina wrings her hands together dramatically. “She won’t give it me, Tal.”

Won’t give it to her? Did she tell this bloke I would pay up? The whine in her voice irritates me; she sounds pathetic.

I give her a dark glare. “You crazy bitch.”

She peers around Tal, hissing, “Don’t fucking speak to me like that!”

Believe it or not, this is not the first time she’s brought trouble to me, but after the talking-to Dad gave her last time I hoped it would be the last. Dad’s never hit a woman (that I know of), but he’d been close that day. I’d seen it in his face. I wouldn’t have blamed him either. She cornered me on the way home from school with two other drug users. It was only sheer luck that Dean and Jem were also walking that way and stopped that situation from escalating.

When Dad discovered what she’d done, he lost his mind.

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