Page 24 of Her Bully

He pulls up to a sketchy trailer with cardboard duct taped over some of the windows. I notice the red blinking light of a camera aimed at the spot we are parked in. Cool. They can afford a security system but not windows.

Kyson twists toward me, taking on a serious expression. “Lock the doors and don’t open them for anyone but me.”

“Noted.”

“Don’t act weird or be on your phone. Just sit and wait.”

“You’re freaking me out. What kind of place is this?” I ask, even though deep down, observing the scene, I don’t need to. It’s a drug den.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like this, Kyson.” I stare past him where an angry dog tied to a chain that’s looped around a tree barks its head off, practically foaming at the mouth to take a hunk out of something like Kyson’s rear.

Chapter Nine

I leave Dahlia in the car. I don’t have a valid reason for why I brought her. That’s a lie. I love to make her squirm. Watch her blush. There’s just something about getting under her skin that gets me off.

The wooden steps creak as I go up to knock on the door of Remy’s uncle’s trailer. He gives me the family discount or at least he claims to, but I think he overcharges because he knows no one else will take the risk of selling to us.

The front door slowly opens. “State your purpose.” The end of a shotgun pokes me in the chest.

“Jesus, man. Is this really necessary?” I push the weapon away and he sits it just inside the door for quick access. Dude is paranoid.

“You alone?” He grumbles, then belches in my face. He’s a greasy overweight bastard.

“Yup.”

“Then who is the hottie in the car?” Jonesy demands, holding a palm out outstretched for payment.

“Not important. She’s cool.”

“Yeah. Sure, she is. Until Mommy and Daddy presses her for where she got the weed. Introduce me.”

“She won’t say anything.”

“You know the rules. You want the weed. I gotta meet her.”

“Whatever,” I mutter as he crosses his arms over his hairy chest. I shuffle quickly back to the car and tap on the passenger window. “Get out.”

Dahlia looks at me with wide eyes, clearly spooked, but she doesn’t argue for once. “What’s going on?” She asks as I grab her by the hand, interlocking my fingers tightly with hers.

“A complication. It’s fine. Just be cool.”

“I don’t like this,” she whispers as we near the trailer.

Jonesy’s pit bull continues to bark, testing the limits of the chain he’s hooked on. “He’s more bark than bite.” I don’t only mean the dog.

“Well…well…well,” Jonesy says, taking Dahlia’s appearance in. “I see you dumped that emo bitch and upgraded.”

I don’t correct him. “Dahlia, this is Jonesy. He’s Remy’s Uncle.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says in a strained whisper.

“Darlin’, I’m not sure about that, but I’ll surely fucking take the compliment coming from your pretty little mouth.” My gut twists as his gaze glides up and down her legs. “Where’ve you been hiding her?”

“My bedroom,” I snap.

“Heard that.” He chuckles. “Step into my humble abode.” He waves a tattooed arm to the side, giving us entrance to his moldy ass place that reeks of body odor, cat piss, and weed.

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