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I bite my bottom lip so I don’t tell her how it is and miss out on getting my fix.
I need it so bad right now, so I count out an extra sixty, and she hands it to me.
The second the plastic baggie hits my hand, a sense of relief washes over me once more.
Precious slides the cash into her bra and looks at me. “See you in a few days.”
I arch a brow. “You’re not working tonight.”
Precious shakes her head. “No. Got this flying off the shelves like hotcakes, so I’m working downtown. I won’t be back until I’m almost out, but if you need some before then, hit me up. I know you’re good for it, so I’ll save you an eighth.”
I nod, appreciating the fact she’ll hold some for me. She might be a bitch most of the time, but at least she’s dependable.
Precious walks off, and I back up next to the dumpster, out of plain sight.
I pull a cut straw out of my pocket and yank a dollar bill out, too.
Folding the dollar bill in half, longways, I pour a little bit of coke into the crease.
The moment I line the straw up and inhale, an instantaneous rush swarms through me.
Euphoria takes over everything, shoving away my depression and all the negative thoughts coursing through my mind.
If it wasn’t for the drugs, I think the darkness would have easily consumed me by now.
I lean back against the brick building and look up.
I jolt backward, my heart pounding insanely as Razor’s eyes are fixated on me.
There’s a flicker of annoyance in them, with a smidge of resentment.
One thing I don’t need is his judgment.
All I need is to be left the fuck alone.
“What the hell are you doing, Oak?” he snaps, his voice low and dangerous.
I glare at him, not even caring how much of a cunt I sound like. “I don’t need your advice, Razor.”
His voice grows stern. “Really, ‘cause it looks like you do.”
I rise and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “It’s not like this is any of your business, so I don’t know why you even care.”
“It’s my business now,” Razor grumbles, his voice growing more stern by the moment. “You don’t need to do that shit, Cola. People who do that shit gamble with their life too much. Trust me. I OD’d back in the day and almost didn’t make it through.”
I roll my eyes. “Unlike you, I can control myself. I know how much my body can handle, okay?” I don’t hold back the defiance in my tone.
Razor shakes his head in frustration, cackling in a sarcastic manner. “Can you? Because fentanyl doesn’t pick and choose who it kills. People are cutting now more than ever, and one line is the difference between life and death. Obviously, no one else gives a damn, so they’re not scarin’ you straight, so maybe you need someone to put the fear of God into you.”
The more he speaks, the angrier I get. “My business is my business. Do you understand that?”
Razor steps closer, breaking the distance between us. “You might be foolin’ everyone else, actin’ like some hardass . . . but I see right through it. You’re hurtin’, Oakleigh.”
Emotion begins to take over me, and I know he’s right.
I don’t want Razor to know that, though.
I grit my teeth and act tough as hell. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
