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“These are all ghosts, so you don’t need to worry about anyone tracing it. This one has minimal recoil and great accuracy. The only real downfall is there are only six rounds, but it’s perfect for someone your size. I don’t usually sell ammo—don’t want to risk anyone turning a loaded weapon on me, ya know? But since I know you’re cool, I’ll hook you up. The State of California has really strict buying laws, so come see me when you need more.”
“I’d appreciate that.” I test the weight of the gun in my hand. “How much?”
Tiny rubs his chin. “Normally, I’d say six hundred, but you qualify for the family discount. Can you do four?”
I dig into my pocket and pull out the cash I brought with me. After this, I’ll only have one-hundred and forty-two dollars left to my name. I really need to get a job.
I peel off four Benjamins, which he stuffs in his pocket and begins the process of closing up shop. Once the bed no longer looks like an armory, Tiny turns around and places a small box of 9mm bullets in my hand.
“Be careful, girl. It was good to see you.”
“Thanks, Tiny. You, too.”
***
Shawn digs a rectangular tin out of his pocket and slides it open. “My shop got this awesome new strain from Colorado. It’s potent as fuck. The pre-rolls came in yesterday, so I grabbed a pack before they sold out. You wanna give it a try?”
Ah, the benefits of working at a dispensary. You get to sample all the best weed first.
“Why the hell not? It’ll probably help me sleep. There’s no way that’s happening naturally at the rate my brain’s running.”
“Hey, flower’s a-hundo-percent au naturel. Anyone who says otherwise is spreading fake news.”
I incline my head. “Touché.”
He lights the J as it hangs from his lips, permeating the air with a skunky smell. After taking a puff, he passes it over so I can do the same, then we repeat the process a few more times. Shawn offered his couch for the night, which I gladly accepted. By the time we left Tiny’s, it was already after midnight. Shawn’s place is less than a mile from my sister’s, so this makes it much easier for me to get to her in the morning. I’ll just have to take her somewhere we can get to by foot or bus and figure out how I’ll get home after.
“You really think this Ainsley chick has no clue?”
“I wouldn’t have called her if I didn’t. She’s a good friend and an even better person. I knew she’d be freaking out, and I didn’t want her to worry about me all night.” My head swims as the weed suddenly hits me. “Whoa, this is good shit.”
Shawn laughs before taking another hit. “It really is. You know my tolerance is through the roof, but this shit hits me a lot quicker than anything else I’ve tried.”
I get teary-eyed when his statement makes me think of Bentley. “Can I use your phone again?”
“Jazz. It’s after two.”
“I know.”
“I’m not giving you my phone so you can call that prick.”
“Not calling him.”
“Then, who?”
“Shawn.” I hold my hand out, palm up. “Please.”
When he hands the phone over—albeit reluctantly—I open the internet browser and log into my email account. I can’t remember who suggested this once, but ever since, whenever I store a new number into my phone, I always email myself a copy of the contact card and keep it in a saved folder. People rarely dial full phone numbers these days, which means they rarely have the chance to memorize them. This ensures I’ll never be without someone’s info if I lost my phone. Or you know, had to purposely leave it behind because someone installed a tracker on it.
I pull up Bentley’s number and dial it after masking the caller ID. Shawn gives me a weird look as I step out onto the back deck, but I don’t have the brainpower to figure him
out tonight.
“Hello?” Bentley’s voice is groggy like maybe I woke him up.
“Were you sleeping?”
I can hear him shifting. “Jazz? Where you at, baby? You okay?”
