Page 7 of Forever Mine

CHAPTER 3

JAY

I lockedup the sandwich shop feeling bone tired. I didn’t really need to work here any more since Beck got me a job at the factory with him. But old habits die hard, and I hadn’t been able to quit it. This was the first job I got that was legal, and the bossman was always good to me. Plus, he always let me bring home the old bread and whatever else they were gonna have to toss anyway. I couldn’t even tell you how many weeks the three of us ate nothing but that.

I didn’t need to rely on the stale bread and aging deli meat anymore. Nowadays, I usually brought it to one of the shelters or the homeless communities around the city. Somewhere in my head, though, I liked having the security of knowing this job and the food was there if it all went to shit.

I was so up in my head that I didn’t notice the fucker creeping up on me until he was right fuckin’ next to me. My hand found the hilt of the blade I kept on me at all times but relaxed when I saw who it was.

“What the fuck, man? You scared the shit outta me.”

Billy Davison took a step back, looking a little lost. His pupils were dilated, and he was scratching his arm hard. Fuck, what was he on?

“Sorry, bro. I thought you heard me.”

I squeezed my lips together and waited for his point. I shoulda heard him. It was dangerous to be that lost in thought out here.

Realizing I wasn’t gonna say anything else, Billy started to talk. “You got any more of those painkillers? My ankle’s still bothering me.”

I sighed heavily. This fucker. “Told you already I don’t do that no more. And if I did, I still sure as shit wouldn’t sell to you. What the fuck are you on right now?”

Billy’s eyes flashed back and forth. “I just needed something to take off the edge since I couldn’t find you.”

I needed to get out of here. My little side hustle was just another thing I was having a hard time letting go of. But I wasn’t lying when I told Billy I wouldn’t give him any more even if I had it on me, which I didn’t.

Selling drugs was fucking wrong. Trust me, seeing my mom and Beck’s dad wither away taught me that. It was why I was so fuckin’ careful and had my own code, however morally gray people thought it was. I never sold any hard shit. Just prescription drugs, mostly Adderall and Xanax, with some pain killers on the side. I even had antibiotics, but I didn’t charge for that.

I never sold to kids, and never to anyone who looked like they were getting addicted. It was still wrong, but selling that shit kept me alive for years, so it was a hard habit to give up.

Besides the money, lots of people in this community counted on me for their shit. Most folks around here didn’t have insurance and couldn’t afford the doctor or their meds. They came to me when they needed help. It kept me afloat, and I felt pretty decent about it too.

But I’d stopped now, or at least mostly stopped. Dakota was a fuckin’ ICU nurse. If I ever got caught, they would sure as shitinvestigate him, and he could lose his job, even if he never was or never had been my source. Dakota loved his job and was good at it, so I wasn’t risking that. So I’d stopped dealing, and only kept a small amount of antibiotics and Xanax on hand, just in case.

I started walking to my truck, ignoring Billy. But he wouldn’t give up. The fucker grabbed my arm and tried to spin me around.

“C’mon bro, I just need one—” He didn’t get the full sentence out before I had him pushed against the dirty wall of the deli and had my knife against his throat.”

“Fuck, Jay. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I pushed the knife in a little harder, not enough to cut him, but enough to put a little fear of God in Billy.

“I told you, I ain’t sellin’ that shit anymore. And I sure as fuck ain’t selling it to you. You’re addicted, man. You need help.”

Billy snorted. “I’m not! My ankle!”

“You twisted it. It’s been almost a fuckin’ month. I probably shoulda never sold you the first one. Fuckin’ asshole.”

Billy finally started to try and get away, grabbing my arm, but he was so out of it, he couldn’t budge my arm at all.

Breathing through my nose, I stepped back. If I didn’t get away I’d do something I’d regret. I grinned at him, trying to get back to my usual jokey self. Fuck, I needed to get a grip.

I closed the knife and shoved it into my pocket. “Leave me alone, Billy. And get some help. I know some pretty good rehabs around here if you need to find one.”

Billy spit at me, but luckily for both of us, it landed on the ground.

“Fuck you!” I chuckled and turned away, giving him the finger as I stepped away from him and to my truck.

I slammed the door shut and locked it, even though Billy wasn’t following me. Thankfully the piece of shit rumbled to life.

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