Page 113 of Drift

West smiled and denied every look Drift’s way.

“Right, might have bloody known,” said Jackson. “Which means he fucked off out too when he shouldn’t have done.”

Jackson gave him asort you out laterhard look, then already back with West.

“You know better,” he said to her, his tones completely different, softer. “Chocolate dries up the throat and constricts the muscles to those gorgeous rocker vocal cords, honey. Stay smart and look out for yourself when others don’t, okay?”

That hurt more than any burn, and Drift fell quiet. This was why West was rationed on chocolate. Only Drift couldn’t everreason not giving her what she needed out of life. She asked, he got, simple as.

A hit came to his shoulder a moment later off Jackson, jolting him. “Newbie gets settled, then you show him the ropes with West tonight, okay, Drift?”

Drift sobered, more utterly shut himself down, because for a moment he’d forgottenwhyLight was here.

“Problem?” said Jackson. “You got somewhere better to be? Only I thought after that whole guitar lick, I mean guitar riff… you’re a good match. And pandemic or no, we still need cash flow.”

Drift held Light’s look. Yeah, maybe they were. Maybe they were going to be the best fucking buddies out there from here on in. He sent a short nod Jackson’s way. “Stick to him like glue, me.”

“Good man.” Jackson took their guitars off them and headed into the pool room.

“Drift, eh?” Light offered a soft smile. “That your name, huh?” He almost seemed to be listening to something. “You… drift around other crews a lot?”

Drift straightened with the drop of name. “Yeah, something like that.”

“On no it a’,” shouted Brighty as he took his turn on the Xbox. “Got caught half-inching Drifters out of our stash years back, he did. Jackson named him after a chocolate bar.”

Light choked a laugh, and Drift mumbled under his breath as West clipped Brighty up the ear.

“Too personal, Nosewipe. But yeah, that too.” But she was fighting off a laugh herself as she looked Drift over. “Most opt for pain in the ass, traitor, and my personal favourite: Sixty Dinner Sid: hence always been caught with his hand in the cookie jar no matter where his stomach takes him.” She held her hand out to Light. “I’m West, by the way, and that’s Brighty.” She thumbed behind her. “And you are…?” She waited for his name.

Drift did too, making a point of folding his arms, making a point of eyeing Light up and down. Light knew their names now, and he wanted to see how honest he was going to be in return. Drift really didn’t like lies or mind games from a psychopath.

“Light. And you, West…?” He shook her hand. “You have really bloody sick vocal chords. That’s some talent you have there.”

West fluttered her eyelids. “Why thank you, sir. You’ve got sick skills yourself.”

Light smiled her way, and Drift, yeah, he buried the small hit of jealousy, even though he guessed Light was gay, or interested at least in fucking the IT guy in the suit back at the manor. Which could still leave it open to him being bi. Fuck. Drift rubbed at his head. Sometimes he really hated the overthinking process.

Then Light eyed Drift again. “So you play guitar as well, huh?”

“Badly and not on the street,” said Drift, keeping talk to a minimum, or trying to. “Jackson’s got better players, so—”

“West, do me a favour and show Light the kitchen, yeah?” Jackson came back in and unplugged his second guitar. He fell quiet for a moment as he wrapped the chord up. “Drift, with me.”

As West nodded towards the kitchen and headed out, throwing Drift a frown over her shoulder, Drift didn’t move for a moment, not to follow Jackson.

“I’ll be okay with West,” Light said gently. “But you come find me when you’re done, okay?”

“Drift. Now.”

His look went back to the harsh call from the hall, and he rubbed at his nose before throwing Light a last look, then headed out after Jackson.

Jackson stood holding the door open as he lit up a smoke. As Drift went over and rested against the wall opposite, a long draw on the cigarette came, then Jackson pointed at him. “You’re trying to see the woods through the trees with how naturally dark that new kid’s eyes are. If black rules them, it’ll find a way to rear its head. But it’s making you fuck up. Back off. His fingertips aren’t burned. It’s damn clear he’s new to the streets and not one of Ava’s. Everyone gets a clean slate here until they prove otherwise whilst being here.”

Drift frowned his way, staying upwind of the smoke.

“But,” said Jackson. “You said my real street name twice in there, once before I gave the nod that kid could eat here.”

Drift thought back and… fuck. He had. “I—”

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