Page 46 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

Jonas

I’m stoned on Lizzie all that night, but we don’t get a chance to explore each other anymore. When we get back to the apartment, still flushed and close, Ezra’s sitting in the living room, eating a pizza, oblivious to the way his sister’s looking at me.

“’Sup,” he says, waving a slice in the air. “Want some?”

Lizzie glances at me before joining her brother. I pour myself a drink and disappear into my room, not interested in family bonding time.

All that night I keep thinking about her in the café wearing nothing but an apron, her gorgeous breasts barely covered, her full round ass waiting for my teeth to sink into her cheeks. Fucking hell, that pussy tasted good, and that ass was so fucking tight. I have to rub one out just thinking about fucking her asshole, and as soon as I come into a wad of tissues, I know how royally and seriously I’m fucked.

This shit with Ezra is far from cleared up. He’s been working hard this past week, but only because the harvest was coming in, and that shit is his pet project. As soon as the harvest is completely finished though, he’s going to be back selling his own goddamn garbage and getting deep in with whatever shady assholes he’s hanging around these days.

And I’m going to still be fucking his sister, which is definitely going to throw a wrench in things if he ever finds out.

I guess I could stop. I mean, we fucked once now, and if I had any semblance of self-control I’d just walk away and be happy with that one taste. But it’s like anything good that’s very, very bad for you: one taste is never enough. I need more now. That pussy is a goddamn addiction and I can already feel it starting to take over my life.

In the morning, I shower early, make some coffee, and try to get out the door before anyone gets up. Lizzie catches me before I can sneak out, though. She doesn’t say anything, just grabs some coffee.

“Want a ride?” I ask.

She shakes her head. She never does, now that I got her a bike. “I’m okay.”

I hesitate a second. I feel like I should say something, maybe go over there and run my fingers through that hair, but I don’t. I just turn and leave the apartment.

Fucking coward. I don’t know what my problem is. I want her, hell, I even like her, but that’s not the kind of man I am. I’m a hurricane, I blow into a woman’s life, give her a good time, and ruin it on my way out. I don’t want to ruin anything for Lizzie, though, she’s gotten enough shit from awful men already. She doesn’t need another asshole like me using her and throwing her away at the end of it all.

I roll down my window and let my hand slide through the air in an undulating pattern as I drive toward Half Pipe. Does it have to be that way? I wonder if I could actually be good to her, actually do something good for her. Maybe she needs this to heal, to get past whatever else she has to get past. Maybe I’m doing her a goddamn favor.

But I know that’s not true. I know I’m just a pathetic, self-centered fucking cunt that can’t keep his dick to himself. I’m going to ruin this girl and it’s going to feel incredible.

As I get closer to Half Pipe, I go to roll up my window but I stop. There are cars in the parking lot, but there are never cars this early in the morning. I’m always the first person in and the last person out, or at least most nights I’m last out. I drive past and pull into the lot of a carpet distributor next door, killing my engine and climbing out.

I walk around to the right, heading behind the Half Pipe. The cars are too nice to be employees, and I’m guessing they’re not local, based on how dirty they are. No self-respecting rich San Diego asshole would let his car get that dirty, like someone was driving through the desert for a few hours.

I make my way toward the Pipe, stopping outside the side door. I consider going in but decide against it. I have a bad feeling about these cars. I head around the back, thinking about going in through the back door for a quick peek, when I hear some voices out front.

I creep back around the side again, staying in the bushes. I spot a group of guys, the same guys that I saw Ezra with before, carrying some bags and tossing them into the trunk of one of the cars. They climb into the others, all of them speaking Spanish, and just as they drive off I spot Ezra crossing the parking lot alone. He hesitates at the road and runs into the shopping center catty-corner to our building. I move up closer and grumble to myself when I spot his car parked in the far corner of their lot.

“What the fuck are you up to?” I ask myself softly. I wait a few more minutes before going inside. It’s completely empty, and all of the safes look good, no money missing. I’m about to chalk it up to some early morning business deal when I suddenly get this terrible feeling in my gut.

I walk around toward the back and head into the grow room. My heart’s hammering in my chest as I walk up to the table where they’re drying the weed, only to find about a quarter of it missing.

“Motherfucker,” I say softly. That bastard just sold our weed to those goddamn drug dealers, and I’m betting they’re about to take that shit across state lines. That’s about as illegal as it fucking gets, and we could go to prison for that shit. “You stupid bastard.”

I go back into my office and spend the morning trying to figure out what to do. The place slowly fills up, and when I check the café, I find Lane and Lizzie working side by side to fill orders. I slink back into my office and sulk there a while, trying to decide how I want to confront Ezra, when my phone rings.

My breath hangs for a second, but it’s just Don. “We’re hitting the school,” he says to me. “You gotta come.”

I frown a little bit. I should confront Ezra, deal with this Lizzie shit, get my life back together, stop fucking it all up. I shouldn’t run off with some skater kids and spend the day fucking around and filming them doing tricks.

“All right,” I say. “When?”

“Now,” he says.

“See you there.”

I hang up, slide my cell into my pocket, and leave the Half Pipe. I’m a fucking dick, as bad as anyone else. I can face my problems some other time. It’s nice outside.

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