Page 35 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

CHAPTER16

“What kindof drug dealer is this guy?” Foxy gripes from the passenger seat as she flicks casually through her phone while we wait.

“I’m not sure… a drug dealer? I can’t imagine they run by any sort of schedule. They’re criminals, Foxy.” She frowns without looking at me.

“Just because they deal pot doesn’t make them a criminal, or a bad person. It’s pot,” she argues, and takes a sip of the soda we bought from the corner store after my practice.

We would have waited a while to pick this weed up, especially now that I knew this guy could get it to me at any time, but I didn’t want the worry of getting caught hanging over my head. I wanted it done and over with. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it once I had it, however. That was the task to tackle soon. My mother would blow a lid if she saw it, and she likes to snoop from time to time. So, if she gets any reason to snoop, I’m done-for.

Jittery nerves are making my leg bounce in the footwell as we wait. Sweat beads on my lip and for once, it’s not from the summer heat.

“Pot may be okay, but dealing it and possessing it isn’t,” I counter, wiping my hands on my shorts. My practice ran long today and although I showered afterward, I’m still ready to go home and soak in a bubble bath for a while. My muscles are sore and tired, and my brain needs some sleep after staying up most of the night berating myself for being a damn fool.

I drum my fingers on the center console, gripping the steering wheel of the Jeep with my other hand. Foxy’s eyes tick to the side and she glares at my fingers for a moment before she looks up from her phone.

“Girl, calm down.”

“I can’t, I’m afraid we’re going to get caught.”

“Well, next time instead of texting some random guy from a bathroom stall, you text someone reputable,” she reminds me of my wrong-doing once again. “And besides, looking nervous is going to make you stand out even more. Act natural, calm. We’re just hanging out in the park enjoying our snacks.”

“Reputable,” I say flatly. “Since when are drug dealers reputable?”

“Like I said before, it’s just pot, and it is all over school. We go to the richest academy in the US. Trust me, there are reputable drug dealers with great weed.” The surprise that crosses my features must alarm her, because Foxy is laughing at me.

“Foxy, do you have something to tell me?”

She half shrugs and I arch a brow at her. When she doesn’t respond, I tilt my head forward to encourage her explanation. The grin she gives me is sinister, devious, and she picks at the lid on her cup. I raise my brow even higher.

“Okay, I smoke pot.” Gasping dramatically, I gulp in air. I’m not upset that she smokes pot, not in the slightest. I am, however, a little upset that she has never divulged this information. We are besties. Why the hell would she keep that from me?

“When? How often? Where? Why haven’t you told me?”

Her grin only widens and a flush rushes to her cheeks. It dawns on me. Foxy isn’t hard to figure out. She hasn’t told me because she started smoking when she met the guy that lives near her mother. The guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Then how does she know that weed is at the Academy?

“Well,” she casts her eyes to the floor for a second as if she is uncomfortable saying this. “We’re besties, girl, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I trust you, I do. It’s just after last year, I wasn’t sure how you’d be with the idea of me smoking pot.” I absorb the blow with a nod and a dull expression, understanding where she is coming from. That’s not something I can be mad at. “I started smoking the first weekend I went to my mother’s apartment. A couple of guys were outside smoking, and I walked into it. They were sketchy as hell at first, but it’s how I met Ryder. He supplies a lot of the guys at the academy.”

My eyes grow wide. The academy students are buying weed from dealers on the wrong side of the tracks? This shouldn’t be surprising. Drugs run rampant in a world like ours, but what fucking hypocrites. They can’t have people coming to their school from the north side of town, but they can buy weed from them? That’s so fucked up and typical.

“I don’t care that you smoke pot with Ryder, or whoever. I just wish you had told me. We tell each other everything.” She winces and ducks her head. I don’t mean to upset her.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that my life has changed so much I’m still getting used to it.”

“I get it, girl.” My hand covers hers on the console and squeezes it. “I love you and you can tell me anything. I’m not the person I was last year.” She nods and though I know she knows that, I feel like I have to remind her for both our sakes. “So, do you have a drug dealer?”

We both laugh, our laughter echoing through the woods of the park we are sitting in. Now that I think about it, I shouldn’t have agreed to a place like this. I should’ve gone somewhere more public, but I have no clue how a drug deal works, so this was the first place I came up with. A place few that I know would show up at and catch me. Foxy told Jensen where we were going to be and I told Kai, so they are making their way here. They should get here around the same time as my guy.

My dealer? My pot guy?I’m not sure what to call him.

“Not really. Ryder just always has some. I’m not sure where he gets it from, but it’s good stuff,” she explains. I hear the rumble of tires on gravel, but it doesn’t sound like a car. It’s quieter, like a bike.

I glance at the clock. I guess it is time for us to meet. The sound of the exhaust bounces through the trees and my stomach does a weird flip. Is this who I think it is? Did Jensen or Kai tell him where we were meeting? Were they planning to meet up afterward and Riggs is early?

I sigh and sink down in my seat. The last thing I need him to know I’m doing is buying pot in the parking lot of a park where children play. This is just great for my already tarnished reputation.

Beside me, Foxy bites her lips to stifle the giggle welling to the surface. I give her a healthy dose of side eye and a laugh bursts from her lips. I sink down even further, wishing I could disappear.

Riggs pulls his bike up next to the Jeep. I can see his head shaking back and forth with the motion of his helmet. He has on a thick leather jacket in blue and white and gloves that have plastic knuckles built in. I didn’t take him for a responsible rider and more of the hellion, balls-to-the-wall kind of guy. But he surprises me often, so I should’ve known.

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