Page 22 of Blaze & Ajax

He looked fucking young, with bouncing, wide hazel eyes, looking around the restaurant, being too fucking obvious.

“What’s up?” he said.

I leaned back and slung my arms over the back of the booth. “How old are you?” I asked, keeping my voice down.

“Tsh…” he huffed and stared at the rainy day from the large windows. “Old enough.”

I raised a brow. “I ain’t selling to kids.”

“Nineteen. Need to card me? Jesus.”

“Good enough. Hungry?” I slid my plate toward him. He looked pale and gaunt. He had the look of someone who did too many drugs.

The thought niggled in the back of my mind that I shouldn’t sell to him. It was people like me who kept them hooked. But I understood well enough that if he didn’t get it from me, he’d get it from someone else. At least the shit Storm had snagged was legit, and not some dangerous concoction. The justification for selling to him rang hollow, but I’d do it, anyway.

My buyer grabbed the fork and rested an arm around the plate as if I’d snatch it away before stuffing his face with my untouched breakfast.

“Want something to drink?”

He looked up and nodded. “Orange juice.”

I waved the server over and ordered some juice for him and some more coffee for me. I said nothing as she went to grab our orders, letting him eat in silence. Judging by how fast he was eating, he must have been starving.

When the server returned, I ordered another breakfast for him, this time with pancakes.

“Why’re you being so nice?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

The word ‘guilt’ crossed my periphery.

I shrugged. “You’ve caught me in a generous mood.”

Honestly, I had no idea why I was feeding this schmuck. He was a fucking buyer, not a friend.

“If you can’t afford food, how can you afford me?”

“You know why.”

Drug addiction was real.

A second breakfast was put in front of him, and he devoured that, too.

“I shouldn’t sell to you,” I whispered.

He looked up, wide-eyed, with some scrambled egg stuck on his lip. “No!”

“Keep it down!”

“Please,” he quietly hissed before he shrugged, looking smug. “Whatever, I’ll just get it from someone else. My money’s just as good to someone else.”

Fuck me. That right there was the truth of it.

“Hand me the cash, slowly, under the table.”

He eased the wad of cash my way. I fisted it and quickly counted out four hundred and fifty bucks.

I cursed myself for having guilt for the first time.

What the fuck had been wrong with me lately?

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