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“Deacon Forrester!” I slapped his left butt cheek as hard as I could.
That woke him up. He sprung from the bed, eyes bleary, his dick dangling like a worm on a hook, clutching his injured ass.
“Oh my god,” Zadie uttered.
“Oh, Deacon, time to wake up and have a chat,” I cooed.
He focused on me. Sort of. His body listed like he was on a ship during a storm, back and forth, back and forth.
“What’re you doing in my room?” His words only came out slightly slurred, which was a relief. I needed his brain to be turned on, and I needed it to happen right now.
“You know why I’m here. Where’s the grand you’re supposed to have for me today?”
His eyes found mine, flitted away long enough for my stomach to take a nosedive, then came back. “Don’t have it.”
My stomach hit the floor. “Not an answer you’re allowed to give. I’ll ask again. Where’s my money?”
He grabbed his junk, slowly pumping it as he licked his lips. Zadie whimpered behind me, which, unfortunately, drew his attention.
“Who’s your friend? She’s cute and looks like she eats cock like a pro.” He took a step, just one, and I raised my skateboard. He stopped. Deacon had learned over the last year since he’d approached me at my old job at Savage Wheelz that I did not play.
“No one wants your dick. I can see the herpes from here. You might want to see a doctor soon because it’s festering.” I shuddered. Deacon scowled. “Just give me the grand you owe me and I’ll be gone.”
He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of basketball shorts. “Can’t.” He dragged the shorts up his legs, then turned back to me. “I didn’t sell the product.”
Another wave of worry slapped at my belly. “Okay, then give me the product back. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Can’t.” He grabbed a T-shirt from his drawer and tugged it over his head. “Flushed it.”
I blinked long and hard. “Say that again. I know I didn’t hear you correctly.”
His hand went to his hips, and he got close to me. Not close enough for me to reach out and twist his balls off, but too close. “I flushed your weed, Helen. It’s all gone. Down the tubes. History.”
I blinked at him. My mouth fell open and closed. I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. Zadie placed a hand on my back.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
“Why the hell would you flush my weed?” Oh, I was angry. My blood roared in my ears. Deacon Forrester was lucky we weren’t in a dark alley because he’d be kissing cement right about now. I didn’t care that he was six inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier, my fury would take him down in a heartbeat.
“Cops stopped by the party last night.” He shrugged. “I panicked.”
“You panicked?” I echoed.
He stared at me for a long beat, then tossed his head back, laughing. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, I panicked. The irony is, they didn’t even come inside. They just checked IDs of the kids hanging out on the porch and left. I was in no danger of getting caught, but I guess I blazed a little too much because I was paranoid as hell.”
“They didn’t come inside.”
He was still laughing. “I can’t even tell you how sad it made me to see all that beautiful dope in the toilet. I took a sample of the merch, and it was top notch.”
“But you flushed it.”
Zadie rubbed my back again. “Hells, come on.”
Deacon jerked his chin. “You should listen to your friend. I don’t have anything for you. I’m not going to have anything for you. It’s done, Helen. All gone. Bye-bye, ganja. Bye-bye, Helen.”
I’d snapped out of my stupid, but I didn’t say a word. Deacon started to turn away, and I drew back my skateboard. It whistled as it cut through the air, slamming into his bicep. His howl took half a second to rip from his throat.
“You fucking skanky-ass bitch!” His face flushed bright red, and when he screamed, his mouth frothed and spit flew out. “Get the fuck out. I don’t have your money. I’m never going to have it. Get out!”
