Page 1 of Blaze & Ajax

I hated the fuckingwinter. It was too damn long. Technically, it was spring, but my body couldn’t tell as I shivered my ass off. Wearing layers to stay warm was a pain in the ass and made movement hard. I liked to be in loose clothes, not constricted by scarves, hoodies, and jackets.

I leaned against the building in the alley, tucked away from prying eyes, smoking a cig, waiting.

Despite the frigid temperature, the overflowing dumpster next to me reeked, and I had to swallow back the acid forming in my stomach, rising in my throat.

“Hurry the fuck up,” I mumbled, patting my pocket to make sure the bag wasstill there.

When he was ten minutes late, I lit up another smoke, ran a hand through my hair, and paced around the garbage.

“Come on, asshole. I need the money.”

Movement suddenly caught my eye, so I dropped my smoke, stepped on it, and waited for my buyer as he limped over to me. He wore a black surgical mask over his face, so I couldn’t fully see what he looked like. Was he sick or hiding his identity?

“You got ’em?” he asked.

I nodded and pulled out the baggie holding thirty small white pills ofOxyContin. My friend Storm, who worked at a pharmacy, would steal the meds, and I would push them, splitting the profits sixty-forty. He took the biggest risk, so he got the bigger profit.

We didn’t do it all the time, and we alternated which drugs we sold, but it was enough to keep ink on my body, food in my belly, and a roof over my head without having to hold a day job. And it was a hell of a lot better than the panhandling I used to do. Three to four deals a month was enough to cover my expenses. Not all the drugs we peddled made this much cash, but Storm and I pushed the expensive stuff when we could.

“Thank fuck, man. I can’t take this pain, and my doctor won’t prescribe them to me anymore.”

Whatever. I didn’t need his fucking backstory. “You got the cash?” I asked.

“Twenty-four hundred, right?”

“Yep.”

He pulled out a wad of cash in hundreds, fifties, and twenties, and counted it out into the palm of my hand. Once he reached twenty-four hundred, I closed my fingers around the stack and handed him the baggy.

“Fucking expensive, but it’s worth it,” he said.

“I give discounts to returning customers. Text me when you’re ready, and I’ll knock off two hundred.”

He shoved the bag into his pocket. “Thanks, man.”

When he left, I stepped out into the bright sunlight of Baltimore, which did nothing to warm me up, and made my way toward Storm’s place to pay his share.

I hopped onto the bus, enjoying the temporary warmth of the heaters, and rode for five stops before getting off.

The apartment complex, which was a hundred times nicer than mine, was two blocks up. I stepped up to the locked glass doors to the lobby and pushed the buzzer for apartment number 813.

“Yo?” said a voice on the intercom.

“It’s me.”

The buzzer sounded, and I let myself in. I stepped into the elevator and took it up to the eighth floor. When I reached the apartment door, I knocked, and it opened a few seconds later.

Storm was taller than me, but then again, everyone was fucking taller than me. He had a mop of curly golden-brown hair on the top of his head, pierced ears, and a septum ring. He was shirtless, wearing sweats, slung low on his hips. I tried to ignore the muscles in his back under smooth, lightly tanned skin as he walked toward his living room and sat down on his sofa.

His place was so much nicer than mine. I guess it paid to have a job and make cash on the side. In my previous life, I didn’t need to work, coming from a wealthy family. But I detonated my life and ended up with nothing.

I struggled to find work and stick with it. When I say I have nothing, I mean it. I had no driver’s license or any documentation to prove who I was, so any small job I’d held was all under the table and hard to come by.

I’d known Storm since high school. We’d been friends for years. Once upon a time, I’d been attracted to him, but I hadn’t been out at that point. He knew later on, but I was no longer as drawn to him as I used to be.

When I’d been desperate for money after having an abundance of it, I fucking struggled. So, I finally reached out to him for some help. His scheme got me back on my feet and off the streets. Well, he did as well as Cueball, my friend and roommate.

Storm lit a blunt and handed it to me. “Wanna hit?”

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