Page 32 of Turning the Tide

Rage fills my entire body, and I am in his face in one quick step.

"Sit down, son. Let's finish talking."

I take one small step backward to avoid causing a scene and push my words out through gritted teeth, "Don't threaten me."

"Oh, Jameson. I would never threaten you. I just don't want someone to cross the center lane on your girlfriend. That's all."

His words send my mind into a spiral.

Blakely. He hurt Blakely.

I want to hit him square in the nose, but instead, I decide maybe this is the only time violence can't help me, "What do you want?"

"Work for me."

"Are you crazy? No fucking way." I laugh sarcastically, pushing my shaggy hair out of my face with one hand.

"It's simple, Jameson, do what I say, and I will make sure your girlfriend doesn't get hurt. Your brother doesn't end up dead like I planned."

Would he really hurt his own son, kill him? I'd like to think he's bluffing, but he already had a hit out on Blakely, and we all know how that ended up. I shake my head and hate the way it feels, surrendering to him, "what do I have to do?"

"It's easy. You just drive."

"Drive?" I question, knowing this isn't going to be something as simple as driving.

"Don't question me, Jameson. I promise you don't want to know the answers."

"You have to leave everyone alone. Promise me."

"It's a deal. Just hold up your end."

"Okay," I agree, rising dramatically from the table.

We walk out of the restaurant without a single head turn. It's almost like he cleared the property and knows everyone in the vicinity, paid them even.

"Here's the first run," He says, tossing a duffle bag into the backseat of my truck. "Here's the address. Text me when it's done."

I nod in agreement, pulling the door closed. I should've knocked his perfect teeth down his throat. Instead, he continues to have power over me.

I drive about fifty miles before pulling up outside a hotel in the middle of fucking nowhere. It's a sketchy area, and honestly, I'm waiting for someone to jump out with a gun and ask me what the fuck I'm doing here. I open the backdoor of my truck and stare at the duffle bag, wondering what could be so important that my dad needs me to do his work. Curiosity gets the best of me as I unzip the bag a little to see what's inside.

My stomach starts to turn once I realize what I'm staring at.

Cocaine.

My dad is trafficking drugs?

I zip it quickly and hurry toward the door knocking four times like instructed. A man holding what looks like a machine gun yanks me in, pushing me up against the wall while his partner searches the bag.

"It's here. Let him go."

Without another word, the man shoves me out the door, slamming it behind me. I adjust my shirt, smoothing it back out, realizing what I was just manipulated into doing.

I drive back to campus to find one thing, trouble. It's what I do best, make a bad situation worse. I make it to Logan's house about a mile from campus and find the football team, fuck, half the damn school, really. I walk straight in, taking the shot straight from Logan's hand, downing it.

"You okay?" He laughs, pouring himself another drink.

"Nope," I snap, picking that one up and downing it too.

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