Because it's been a while, this chapter is longer then normal. Happy Halloween!


* Three *

Jimmy. Not James

~~~Cynthia~~~

A pink bedroom. With ruffles and bows and glitter. A princess bed and a white vanity in the corner. The air was hazy, floating softly with the breeze from outside. Red eyes and dry lips. Betty took another hit. Her manicured nails looked too nice compared to the dirty glass bowl she was smoking out of. Her black hair, tucked behind her ears. Bangs still falling just above her eyes. She coughed as she inhaled. Scrunching her nose and bringing a hand to her chest.

I smirked. "You good?"

She laughed, handing me the bowl and lighter. "Big hit. Perfect."

I did the same. Breathing in the only thing that seems to keep me calm. My throat burned as I exhaled. "You really gotta get me the number to your contact."

Betty laid down, staring at the ceiling. She coughed again. "I already told you, I don't really have a contact. I got this from Nick only because I won a bet."

I took another hit before passing the bowl back to her. "So I should talk to Nick then?" I said in between coughs.

Betty shook her head, placing the bowl on her side table. "He doesn't sell. At least, I don't think he does."

"He's the biggest stoner in school. Even if he doesn't sell, he obviously has some kind of a contact." I laid down next to her. The ceiling seemed to be moving. I giggled. "Do you think if I seduce him, he'd give me the name of his weed guy?"

Betty snorted. "Seduce Nick? Ha! Good luck. I heard he's gay as fuck."

"Nick's gay?!" I shot her a quick look.

"That's the rumor. Although I wouldn't recommend bringing it up to him. I heard he beat the fuck out of Arty last time it got tossed around."

"So he's still in the closet?"

"That's my guess."

I shook my head. "That's dumb. It's 2020. Being gay isn't really a big deal anymore."

"It is when your dad's a ex-con from the south."

"Damn." I pulled my knees to my chest. "That's tough."

Betty shrugged. "Nick's got a lot of issues. We all just stay out of his way."

A few moments of silence passed. I contemplated before saying, "You going to that Halloween dance thing?"

"I might. Depends on if someone asks me."

"If you could have any guy in the school, who would you choose?"

Betty hesitated. She laughed nervously. "I don't really have anyone specific. All the guys on the south side are just….ugh. No."

"Not even James?" I had to say it.

She tensed as the words left my mouth. "What?! No. God no. I'm all set with that…." She trailed off

I rose a brow. "That….?"

"Well, I was gonna call him an asshole, but honestly, that word is too good for him."

"Why do you hate him?" I asked, suddenly.

A pause. "I don't hate him. I just dislike him. Very much."

"But why?" I pushed.

"Not this again." She rolled her eyes, turning away from me.

"Look." I sat up. "You obviously know him way better than I do. I mean, I've only been here a little over a month and I've interacted with him a total of maybe six times. But….it's just….you're always so quick to….shade him. Or talk about how bad he is, or how dangerous he is. You paint him out as if he's this big, movie-star villain but...I just….I don't buy it-"

"You're right." She shot me a hard look. "You don't know him, Cindy. You don't know the things he's done. The damage he's caused. You don't know anything about him or the Mustang Kids. You don't understand….." She paused before she groaned, loudly. "Ugh. It's complicated. He's complicated. That's why I said to just stay away from him. From all of them. They're bad news."

I nodded. "Right….Right."

Betty gave me a side glance through her bangs. "Why are you so interested? Have you been talking to him in Bio?"

I chuckled a bit. "Not really. Half the time he doesn't even show up."

"No surprise there." Betty finally stood up from her bed, taking the bowl and lighter and placing it back into her vanity draw.

I took a breath. "He's just….I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm high."

It was then, that a knock came at her bedroom door. Harsh. Loud. We both winced as her mother's voice pierced through the wood. "Betty! It's getting late! And it's a school night."

"I'm aware." She responded, monotone.

"Wrap it up." Footsteps signaled that she began to walk away. When her voice came again, it was distant, but still audible. "And open a fuckin' window! It stinks up here!"

Betty chuckled as she obeyed her mother's request by opening the only window in the room, shaking her head. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"I mean it is a little past 8. My mom is probably wondering where I am." I started to collect my things. Tossing my text book and other various study items into my backpack.

"Text me when you get home."

"Yeah, Yeah. Of course."

"Oh, and Cin?"

I turned around, now standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

A pause. Betty licked her lips. "Just. Be careful."

"It's only a five minuet walk. I'll be fine-"

"That's not what I meant. I was referring to him. To James."

James. The room suddenly felt ten degrees colder. "Right. Yeah. Of course."

And I left.


~~~Nicholas~~~

Grey skies. Light rain. Cigarette smoke and nicotine. Cracked lips, dirty hair. I leaned against the porch railing, watching the kids from across the street scare the birds. One had a bat, while the other had a wooden spoon. Loud ass hellions. I hate kids. All they do is bring everyone down. They're not little bundles of joy, they're roaches. Or at least, that's what dad always says.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?!"

Speaking of dad….His voice echoed through the screen door. Raspy. Irritable. His southern accent rolled off his tongue with ease, despite living in Chicago for almost five years now.

"I have to go to school!"

"We're not finished!"

"Fuck off!"

The door behind me slammed open. My sister, Tessa, emerged from the sweltering and confined house we call home. Black hair like me, long. Tied into a messy side braid that hung down to her hips. A black crop top revealing tan skin covered with various tattoos. Skinny jeans tucked into tall combat boots. She wore her signature black lipstick and eyeliner. A gold nose ring in her left nostril and diamond stud for her medusa.

"What's the bitchin' about now?" I flicked my smoke, before turning toward her.

Tessa rolled her eyes. "Same old shit. You know how he is."

I sighed, following her lead as she made her way down the porch steps, heading toward the subway station across the way. "Just ignore him. That's what I do."

"You know, one of these days he's gonna catch you." She said, suddenly.

My pace slowed. I shot her a glare, taking a drag of my smoke. "No. He's not."

"I'm just saying, you should be a bit more careful. I saw you and Nate together the other day."

"That doesn't prove anything." Now I was getting mad. "I'm allowed to hang out with my friends-"

"I saw you together." She leaned in, whispering.

I narrowed my eyes. "Where?" I whispered back.

We made it to the station, now climbing the rusted stairs. "On the corner of fourth street."

Fourth Street. Shit. That's right. We went down to the dam but, sometimes you can still see from the freeway. I looked at her, a little paranoid.

"Don't worry." She rolled her eyes. "No one else saw. And I obviously didn't tell anyone."

"Tess-"

"Look." The doors to the subway car opened. We both pushed inside along with the rest of the crowd. I tossed my smoke to the ground as I got on. "Just be more cautious. If dad finds out, he'll lose his shit."

"You think I don't know that?" I huffed as I sat down.

She sighed, crossing her legs. "Maybe if we're lucky, one of those bounty hunters will finally get their payday."

I scoffed. The train started to move and outside, the sun was starting to show through the clouds. I thought about him, briefly. I shook my head, muttering under my breath. "Yeah. Maybe."

A pause before Tessa rose a brow at me. "I didn't even think you were into Nate."

"I'm not. And can we not talk about this here?" I snarled

"Did you know he came by the house the other day?"

I shot her a glare. "Who?"

She just gave me a look. Her voice dropped. "You know who."

My heartbeat quickened. "Why?" I asked, suddenly. "What did he want?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She chuckled. "He wanted to talk to you."

"When the hell was this?!" My voice rose, a few heads turned.

Tessa waited a few seconds before she answered me. "A few days ago. You were out."

Out. Out? Where was I? I don't really go out. Sometimes just for hook-ups and pick ups, but other than that…..?

Oh. Wait. A few days ago? I remember where I was.

Shit.

"What did you tell him?" I rubbed my temples, a headache already forming. Unconsciously adjusting my eyebrow piercing. It's a habit. I do it a lot when I'm anxious.

Tessa picked at her nails, chipping off some of the black polish. Pretending as if this isn't a big deal. "I told him you were out. That you were busy."

"And?" I asked, impatiently. "What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything. He just left."

I narrowed my eyes. "He didn't say anything?"

"If you're so curious, why don't you just ask him?"

I froze. A long breath. "No." I shook my head, folding my arms across my chest. "No. Forget it."

"Your loss."

Yup.

My loss.

My eyes flickered back to the window. We're almost at our stop. I thought of that single red curl that always fell into his eyes.

Fuck.

My loss.


~~~Cynthia~~~

It's a little muggy, for a mid October day. The sun finally peaking through the rain clouds. My blond hair is pulled tightly into a bun. A simple white tee and some jeans. I wore a tan bra, but I'm still paranoid you can see through my shirt. Not that anyone looks at my chest anyway. I wasn't gifted with the biggest of tits…but hey, I can dream, can't I?

I thought more about what Betty said the other day. About James. About the Mustang Kids. I don't really know if I believe her yet. There's still so much unknown. So much to discover….

Do I want to discover?

Maybe.

I don't know. I'm a little scared, if I'm being honest.

But I'm intrigued. He intrigues me so much. And I can't help but wonder: Maybe he's misunderstood?

I could almost hear Betty's scoff in the back of my mind. James Neutron, misunderstood? Yeah right.

I sighed. Slamming my locker closed as I headed to first period. English. I sauntered in and sat down in my usual seat. All the way in the back. Five minutes past eight and the class was as lively as ever. Chattering and laughing as the Teacher sat with her feet up on the desk, scrolling through her phone. Typical. It was then, that I noticed that Betty's seat was empty. She's not in today. Hm. Weird. Normally she'd text me if she wasn't gonna be in. I hope she's ok.

It's Thursday, October 15. Sixteen days til Halloween. Back in Essex, it was my favorite holiday. Dad used to take me out trick or treating when I was little . We'd hit all the biggest (and richest) houses. Come home with a long pillowcase full of candy. As I got older, he stopped. But we still watched horror movies and ate chocolate like our lives depended on it.

And now those days are over. Now he's gone. Now, Halloween is just another reminder that everyone leaves eventually. Nothing or no one is forever. It sucks. It really sucks. I miss him like crazy.

I heard a chair scrap besides me. I turned my head to see Nick, slumping down. His backpack, tossed to the ground with an aggressive sigh. He folded his arms, hood up as he slouched. A pout, yet pensive look on his face.

I don't really talk to Nick. He's one of those kids where everyone knows him, but he keeps to himself. I've only really seen him interact with his younger sister, Tessa. She's a junior, but she hangs out with most of the seniors. I don't know her all that well either, other than the fact that she loves death metal and cigarettes.

I could use this opportunity though, I suddenly thought. I could use this to my advantage. To talk to him. I really don't smoke that much, but ever since that night with Betty, I've been dying for more. I tapped my fingers against the cover of my text book, contemplating the words on the tip of my tongue.

Just, be casual.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me, Vortex?" He didn't look at me, but his voice carried over with ease.

Vortex. I'm surprised he even remembers my last name. "I have a question."

He turned his attention to me. Tired eyes. Sad eyes. I wonder what's wrong? "A question?"

"Well...yeah, kinda." I stuttered. "I...uh, heard you gave Betty some...stuff. Last week."

The eyebrow with the piercing rose. "Stuff?"

"You know…." I dropped my voice lower. "Like...stuff to smoke."

He cracked a smile. "Oh right. Yeah. We made a bet that Cryin' Brian wouldn't make it a day without running to his mommy. I lost. I tried to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. But it's all good. She earned that bud fair and square."

"Well. Do you have any more?"

He went quiet for a minute before leaning back in his chair. A confused look on his face. "No offense, but you don't seem like the type of girl who smokes."

"No offense, huh?" I said, offended.

He put both of his hands up. "I'm just sayin'."

I rolled my eyes. "Who cares what 'type of girl' I look like or don't. Can you get me some or not?"

A pause. "One condition."

I sighed, annoyed. "What?"

"Come with me. To the dance."

What?

"Huh?" I just looked at him.

"You know, that stupid Halloween dance. Come with me. As my date."

My mouth was completely hung open, stunned. "I...what?"

"Yes or No, Vortex. I'm getting bored."

"Uh-" Do I say yes? But Betty said he was gay! Why is he asking me to the dance? Does he want me to be his beard? Is that what's happening right now? Should I ask him? No. No. I can't ask him. He's sensitive about those rumors, said Betty. I don't want to piss him off...And plus, it's just a dance. It's not like I'm gonna run off and have sex with him. Not that I'd want to anyway. He's not my type, even if he is straight. Besides, if I say yes, he'll get me weed.

Weed.

That's the objective. Right.

"Ok." My mouth answered before my brain.

Nick nodded his head, a small sense of relief washed over his face. Like he was worried I was gonna say no. Or worried I was gonna bring up the rumors. "Cool. Thanks."

Thanks? For what?

"Here."

He handed me a piece of paper. Torn at the edges and ripped from a page in his notebook. The blank ink from his pen smudged as he passed it over. I glanced down. His handwriting is terrible.

"What is this?" I asked, confused.

"It's an address. For The Lab."

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a bar. Go there, and ask for the scientist."

Now I'm really confused. "The what?"

"Enough with the talking!" The teacher called over our voices. "We're getting started."

Nick leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Already, he was falling asleep.

I looked at the paper in my hands once more. The Lab.

Hm. The Scientist.

That's interesting.


Finding the place was easier than I expected. Only a few blocks away from home, and about a block and a half away from Betty's. The outside of the building was old bricks. A few cracked and crumbling from the weather. Three large windows, clean, but with streaks down the center. A big neon sign hung above the door: The Lab, it read, with a small symbol of a science beaker with smoke coming out from the top.

It was drizzling again. My hair was damp, but pulled back away from my face. A little frizzy as I stood in front of the bar, holding the piece of notebook paper in my hand. It was dark inside, I could barely see through the windows. If I looked up, I noticed there was an apartment on the second floor. One of the windows was open, and there was a white calico cat sitting on the sill.

I returned my attention back to the front door, now swinging open to reveal a man exiting the bar. Tall. Chocolate hair that curled in the front with matching eyes. His five o'clock shadow was dark and very untamed. A few grays towards his chin. Pale skin that seemed dirty. Unkempt clothes that made him look homeless. His long brown coat was tattered and full of holes, and those leather boots had definitely seen better days.

He was arguing as he called over his shoulder. His voice was raspy, thick with the Chicago tongue. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Call me crazy if you want. Just don't come cryin' to me when you all lose your houses to the government!"

There were a few other voices that called out to him, but it was hard to hear from where I was standing. The man stopped as he saw me. A brow now cocked as I shifted uncomfortably out of his way.

"You're new." He dug into his pockets, pulling out a pack of smokes and placing one between his teeth.

"Sorry?" I shot back.

"I don't recognize you." He said after a long drag. The smoke drifted in front of my face. "You're new to the area."

"Yeah…." I said, a little weary. "I am."

He paused before his eyes went wide, along with his smile. "Well, that's great! Welcome to Chicago. You know, there's a lot of history here, and me being a long time local, I'd be happy to give you all the best-"

"Leave her alone, Hugh." A voice called from the doorway. I looked around the man to see a girl, about my age, standing there. She wore a cropped leather jacket with a tube top underneath. Black ripped skinny jeans that accentuated her hips. She was covered in necklaces and all kinds of jewelry. Classic makeup that made her dark skin shimmer under the neon sign. She had two french braids that fell down to the middle of her back, adorned with more jewels and ribbons. I recognized her immediately.

She's one of the Mustang Kids.

"Wha-?" Hugh turned around. "I was just introducing myself-"

"Yeah. Sure. Introducing yourself." She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away from the door, and me. "Ignore him. He's just the town drunk."

"You know, Liberty. There's no need to call me names." Hugh almost seemed offended.

Liberty rolled her eyes as she motioned for me to come in. "Goodbye, Hugh."

She practically pulled me into the bar and shut the door behind us. The inside was dim, but decent looking. Clean for the most part, with a bar to the left and tables all along the right. It wasn't all that busy. Just a few customers here and there. Tending the bar, was a woman. Jet black hair pulled up high into a ponytail. Both sides of her head shaved. Her gold septum ring matched the industrial through her right ear. Dark make-up with red lipstick. A white tube top and dark blue jeans tucked into boots.

"Sorry about him." Liberty said behind me. "Hugh can be a handful. Especially when you don't know him all that well."

I turned around, still a little stunned from the whole encounter. "Uh. No worries. It's all good."

She smiled, holding out a hand. I noticed she had a ring on every finger. "I'm Libby, by the way."

"Um. Cindy." I shook her hand slowly. "Nice to meet you."

She cocked a brow at me. Glossed lips parted, just slightly. "You're new here, right? I've noticed you around school."

"Yeah. Yeah, I've only been here a month or so."

"You have an accent." The women from the bar called over. Her own accent made her words hard to understand at first. "East coast?"

I eyed her suspiciously. "Is it that obvious?"

"I spent quite a bit of time in Boston after I left Russia." She smirked as she poured one of the patrons a glass of vodka. Fitting. "Married a few guys, made some money...So you know. I know the accent well."

"Beauty, you never told me you were married?" Libby swung around to the end of the bar, leaning up against it now.

She chuckled a bit as she placed the glass bottle back under the bar. "It didn't last long."

"What happened?" Libby pressed.

"He got put six feet under." She shrugged. "But you know. Not my fault."

Right.

Not your fault.

Hm.

There was a loud slam from one of the doors in the back. Followed by a child's laughter and rapid footsteps. I turned, and it was then that I saw him. A small boy, no older than 7 or 8, dogging under tables and swinging around chairs.

A voice called out after him. "I swear to god Benny, ven aquí!"

There was a man chasing the little boy. My age, again. Spiked dark hair and wild brown eyes. He wore black skinny jeans and a white muscle tank. I noticed his tattoo was a lion's head, all black ink. And it was that detail, that made me remember him. He's also one of the Mustang Kids.

The little boy was holding something, as he ran under one of the far tables in the back. Giggling and laughing as the other boy grabbed him by the back of his shirt. "Ok, ok, ok, ok. I'm sorry!" The little boy cried.

"How many times do I have to tell you? No fuckin' fireworks inside!"

"But Sheen!~" The little boy, Benny I assume, crossed his arms over his chest. Pouting his lips.

Sheen held out his hand. "Dame. Now."

Benny rolled his eyes. Brown. Just like Sheen's. "...Fine…."

"Benny, maybe if you behave we'll go get ice cream later." Libby called over, still leaning against the bar.

His arms remained crossed. Eyes still narrowed. "I don't want ice cream."

Sheen Sighed before finally letting the boy go. "Vamos, no seas asi."

"Come on." Libby held out her hand. "I wanna show you somethin'."

Benny reluctantly made his way over to Libby. Slouching and pouting the whole way. She led him off to the back room and up a set of spiral stairs.

Sheen came to the other side of the bar, reaching into his pocket and tossing the Russian bartender a key. "Check the stock later. We won't be back on time."

"Another fight?" She cocked her head, catching the key with one hand.

Sheen chuckled. "Kinda. You know how he is. Always gotta one up the competition." And like that, he disappeared up the same staircase as Libby. I could hear Benny's laughter echo off of the walls. More Spanish, before the voices got quiet, followed by the closing of a door.

My attention returned to the bartender, Beauty, as she called out to me. "Can I get you something?"

"Uh-um. No." I stuttered, suddenly nervous as I remembered the whole reason I came to this damn bar in the first place. "I'm only 17. And besides, I'm not here for that." I paused as she just waited for me to continue. I got closer to the bar, dropping my voice. "I'm here for...uh...the scientist?"

Her expression changed from slightly confused to a creeping smirk. "Oh. Right. Sure." She turned around and picked up the corded phone from behind her. "One sec."

A few moments pass. I start fidgeting as I stand there, now shoving the piece of paper in my jeans pocket.

"You have a customer." She said over the phone. A pause. She looked back over to me. "Name?"

"Cin-uh, Cynthia." I started to say Cindy, but decided last second I sounded better to give my full name. More professional.

Professional. For a weed pick up. Sure, Cindy. Sure.

"Cynthia." She repeated back into the phone. She cocked a brow, her eyes trailing over me. "I don't know, she's blond? And….white?"

Who is she talking to? And why do they care what I look like?

She rolled her eyes. "Alright. I'll let her know." She hung up the phone. "Carl will come get you in a few minutes."

"Oh. Ok. Cool, thanks." I sat down on one of the barstools.

Beauty went back to drying shot glasses. A few moments of silence passed before I couldn't help but ask the most prominent question in my mind. "How long have you known them?"

She shot me a questionable look. "Them?"

"The Mustang Kids." I reiterated.

"It started with Alejandro. I had just moved here from Boston. Trying to hide from immigration. Blend in with the crowd. He saw potential in me. And you know, he needed a bartender that knew what they were doing." She winked. "So I started working. That was about two years ago. Now, he has dementia and can barely remember his name. He passed the bar down to his son on his eighteenth birthday."

"His son works here?"

"Yeah you just saw him. Sheen."

"Sheen...oh. So Sheen is the owner's son?"

"Mhm. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's a good kid. And a decent boss. Libby does most of the finances. And Jimmy takes care of...well, pretty much everything else."

Jimmy?

Jimmy.

"You mean, James?" I asked.

She laughed. "Oh right. Yeah. James. I forgot he goes by that on the streets."

"Is it true what they say about him?" I licked my lips nervously.

"What do they say about him?"

"That he's dangerous."

An unsettling pause filtered over the two of us. Beauty tapped her fingers against the bar, almost as if she was thinking of what to say. Her voice was low when she spoke. "He can be. But it depends. Think of him like Russian Roulette. You're always staring down the barrel, but you never know when you're gonna get a bullet."

"Right…." I trailed off.

"He didn't always use to be like this. I remember when he was just a kid. A brilliant kid with a gift, but just a kid nonetheless. Then Astrid fucked everything up."

Don't press. Don't press. It's not your business.

"What happened?" I was practically leaning over the bar, now.

"It's a long story, and not mine to tell. He's sensitive about her. Even more so about Claudia."

Claudia?

Who's Claudia?

Who's Astrid?

"Cynthia?"

I turned my head towards the sound of my name being called. Standing towards the back of the bar, was a boy. My age. Dark red hair, curly. So curly. Falling into amber eyes and pale skin covered in a thousand freckles. Carl, I presume. Another member.

I started to make the connection that the Mustang Kids were obviously involved with the selling of weed…

But who's the scientist? It must be….?

"Yeah. Yeah." I hopped off of the stool, a little too quickly. "That's me."

The redhead motioned for me to follow him. "This way."

I took a deep breath as he led me through a back door. It headed downward, into a long staircase. Every time I thought we'd reach the end, we just hit more stairs. It was dim, only lit by a few bare lightbulbs every so often. I started to grow more anxious with every second that passed. Finally, he hit the bottom. There was a small room, set up like a lounge. Two couches opposite of each other and a circle coffee table in the center. A mini fridge set up towards the back, and a large TV mounted to the wall. Currently there was something paused. A show? A movie? I'm not really sure. I was too focused on the familiar leather jacket that seemed to be hung up on the coat rack against the wall.

Carl motioned to the door on the far end of the room before plopping down on one of the couches. "You can head in. He's ready for you."

I was going to ask who he was, but he pressed play on the remote and whatever it was he was watching, started playing once more. I recognized it then. It was an episode of American Horror Story. The second season, Asylum.

I shook my head, mostly to try and shake the nerves and anxieties away as I reached for the door handle. I did this to myself, after all. I'm the one that wanted weed…

I opened the door.


~~~James~~~

The fluorescent lights give me a headache. They give off a heat that makes me feel like I'm suffocating. No shirt on, just jeans. My hair is pulled back, tucked behind my ears. I'm hunched over a long desk. The pen in my hand moving swiftly across the notebook in front of me. I squinted at the writing. I had to throw on my reading glasses. My eyes seem to be getting worse. Libb says I should see a doctor. But I don't have time for that.

There's a few racks behind me. Large flat pans, all stacked up to the ceiling. The most recent batch, still curing. I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I reviewed the amount of orders we had to dispatch later this week. A few taps against the desk from the pen. Fuck. We need more people. I never intended for business to be quite this busy into the fall months. There's been an influx of people, I've noticed.

Hm.

Strych is getting lazy.

I scoffed, tossing the pen to the side as I leaned back into my chair. Fucking Strych. Our most recent conversation still left me boiling. His condescending tone and ridiculously annoying accent rang in my ears for hours afterwards. I shook my head, baffled at his words.

You don't run the South Side. I do. It's time you start answering to me.

Mother fucker. I answer to no one.

I slammed my fist against the desk. A loud bang echoed throughout the room. The coffee mug from earlier shook, a bit spilling onto the notebook. And it was then, that the door opened. Cautiously, a mop of curly red hair peeked in, before fully entering the room.

Carl shot me a look. "Everything alright?"

"Not really." I answered honestly. I pulled my glasses off of my nose and placed them down on the desk. "But it's fine."

An awkward pause. I started rubbing my wrist. I might have fucked it up again. "About Strych, I assume?"

"About-fucking-everything." I sighed, annoyed. Spinning in my chair as I looked at the ceiling. "But mostly Strych."

"You gonna meet up with him tonight?"

"We are gonna meet up with him tonight." I corrected. "I'm gonna need backup, I already know." I stopped spinning and looked at him. "Sheen didn't fill you in?"

He stuttered, almost nervous suddenly. "No. No...he, uh. He didn't. I also haven't really been around that much these past few days. So. It's my fault."

This piqued my interest. "Have you talked to Nick lately?"

Carl answered fast. His words all meshed together. "Why would you think that?"

"Just curious." I shot back. "You did go to his house the other day, didn't you?"

A long pause. "He wasn't home." Carl muttered.

"Hm." I tapped my fingers against the chair. "Seems like he's ignoring you."

"I mean, he's probably just busy." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms defensively. "It's no big deal."

No big deal. Ha.

Bullshit.

But I'm not gonna call him out on it. Nick is a sensitive topic, and although I may be an asshole, I try to be less asshole-ish to my friends.

Instead I just nodded. "He'll come around eventually. His pick up is next month. I'm sure you can talk to him then, if you don't before so."

Carl just looked at the floor. "Yeah. Maybe."

"For now, let's just focus on tonight." I gave him a stern look. "I need you on guard, along with the rest. Be ready for shit to hit the fan."

He chuckled at that. "I always am."

The phone rang on the desk. It's probably Beauty. I picked it up. "Yeah?"

"You have a customer."

I leaned forward, grabbing the notebook and flipping through the pages. "Name?"

A pause. I heard someone speak in the background. A familiar voice. "Cynthia."

Cynthia.

I leaned back into the chair, the notebook still in one hand, while the phone was in the other. All I could think about was her. The blond one from Bio. Pretty green eyes and those taunting lips of hers…..

I wonder if it's her?

"What's she look like?" I asked before I even realized it.

I heard Beauty scoff. "I don't know….she's blond? And….white?"

Hm. Maybe. "I'll have Carl go up in a few."

"Alright. I'll let her know."

I hung up the phone as Carl sauntered over to the desk. "I didn't think we had any pick-up's scheduled for the rest of the day?"

"We don't." I looked over the notebook once more. "She must be a walk in."

"You could have just turned her away." Carl pointed out.

"Yeah. I could have." By why didn't I? "Her name's Cynthia. Blond. White, according to Beauty."

Carl gave me a suspicious look. "Sounds like that new girl you got the hots for."

I laughed. Shaking my head. "You think it's a coincidence?"

"I don't know. You're the scientist. You tell me."

"I doubt it's her." I rolled my eyes, getting up. I went to the stock, already getting ready to pack, depending on how much she's willing to spend.

Carl called over to me. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Last week. In Bio."

"Does she seem….you know, interested?"

I grabbed a few mason jars and began unscrewing the caps. "In me? I don't know. She's pretty quiet."

"That's never stopped you before."

I smirked. "I might ask her to that dance."

"The Halloween one?"

"Yeah. Figured that'd be a good way to get to know her."

"And by get to know her, you mean her mouth around your cock."

I genuinely laughed. "Why do you always assume I'm going to fuck on the first date?"

"Because that's what you do, Jimmy. You have a reputation, after all. And you know, the girls never turn you down."

"I mean, I am pretty fucking irresistible." I looked over my shoulder to see him shaking his head. Also laughing.

"You're definitely something, that's for sure."

"Go get her. I'm just about ready." I had prepared 3 sizes for her choosing. A quarter. A half ounce, and a full ounce. Stock is running low, but it's not terrible. And once the next batch is ready, we should be good to go.

You know, provided Strych doesn't kill me tonight.

Carl just nodded. "I'll be back." And he left the room.

The silence is what got me. A constant reminder that being alone is something I choose. It's something I built myself on. It's a loneliness I always push upon myself, when I know I don't have to be. I exhaled, digging into my pocket for my smokes. I pulled one out and placed the cigarette between my teeth. The nicotine helps, but it doesn't fix the problem. Honestly, I don't think there's really any way to fix the problem.

The silence is a part of me. It'll always be a part of me. I'll always be alone. It's better that way anyway.

I'm too much of a destruction.

A few minutes passed before I heard movement in the other room. I leaned against the desk, taking a long drag before exhaling. The smoke lingered in the stagnant air. The door opened. And there she was.

Cynthia.


~~~Cynthia~~~

The first thing I noticed was the strong smell of nicotine and marijuana. I saw him leaning up against a long glass desk. No shirt on. All of his tattoos, visible for my eyes to see. The lines from his defined hips that disappeared down the front of his jeans, taunted me. My breath hitched as I met his wandering eyes, dragging over my form. I tugged on the hem of my t-shirt, a little self conscious as James Neutron scrutinized me. James. I had a feeling it was him. I had a feeling he was the scientist.

He smirked, and those dimples caused my heart to stop beating. "It is you."

"I...I'm sorry?" I managed to get out.

He laughed. God I love his laugh. "When Beauty said Cynthia. I wasn't sure if it was you….or someone else." A pause before he added. "But I'm pleasantly surprised that it's you."

He's pleasantly surprised?!

What?!~

"Oh. Well-" I mumbled, chuckling awkwardly. I know I'm blushing. "Yeah. Yup. It's me."

I hate myself.

"So." He pushed off of the desk, tossing his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. "You're here for a pick up?"

Anxiety rose in my chest. "Y-yeah. I...um….Yeah."

He shot me a look. "No offense, but you don't strike me as the type of girl who smokes."

Wow. That's the second person to say that to me today.

"You don't know what type of girl I am." The words came so quick, I couldn't stop them.

It caught his attention, though. "Maybe one day I'll learn."

My whole body froze as that devilish smirk crept across his lips. I swallowed hard. "Yeah. Maybe. One day."

He chuckled as he headed over to a small cabinet in the back. He picked up three mason jars full of weed and brought them over to the desk. "I don't know how much you brought. But the small jar is 50, the second is 140, the third is 240."

"I, uh, I have 50 with me. So I guess the first one."

He picked up the jar, tossing it in the air as he nodded. "Solid choice." He held it out to me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the cash. We exchanged both items. Our fingers grazed together, briefly, and I swear to god, I felt his pulse quicken. I watched as he counted the cash. His hands moved expertly against the bills. His eyes focused, lips counting softly under his breath. I was able to take this moment to really look at him. Shirtless and so, so close to me. That last tattoo, that was always hidden by the sleeve of his shirt, was visible to me now.

Still black ink, but the shading alone was more than enough define and contrast. The focal point of the tattoo, was an eye. An open, single, reptilian looking eye with scales that slowly faded to stars and swirls of a galaxy. It covered the entirety of his left shoulder, and even bleed a bit onto his chest. It's really, really sexy. And the artwork was impeccable.

"Are you going to the dance?" His voice caught me off guard. I averted my eyes immediately. My brain now in overdrive.

"Dance?" I played dumb.

"At school. That silly Halloween dance." There were those dimples again.

Why is he asking about the dance?

I chuckled, awkward. Always awkward. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. I am."

"Going alone?"

"No." I answered quickly. "With Nick."

James paused. His eyes lifting from the cash, and slowly landing upon mine. "Nick?" He questioned.

"Yeah. He asked me today."

He nodded his head. He doesn't believe me. I know he doesn't believe me. "Right….ok."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly.

"Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to go with me."

What.

What?!

WHAT?!

"What?" I blinked.

He laughed. "It's a shame Nick got to you first." He shot me a wink and I almost melted then and there. "Maybe I'll steal you from him. Just for a dance."

Fuck. I can't breathe.

He didn't even give me a chance to respond before he changed the subject entirely. "It was a pleasure doing business with you. I hope to do more."

The word more, seemed very suggestive. "Yeah. Uh, I'm sure I'll be in touch."

"I'm sure you will." Fuck those dimples. Fuck those eyes. Fuck him.

God, I want to fuck him.

"Goodbye, James." I turned on my heel and began to make my way out. Flushed to the max. I'll probably scream the second I'm alone.

"Jimmy. Not James"

I paused, my hand hovering over the door knob. "Huh?"

"You can call me Jimmy. James is too formal."

"Jimmy." I repeated. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye Cindy."

And I left.