Toe Tag, You're It

two

"Sorry," I grinned, my twisted smile still resting upon my face. I probably looked like some sort of serial killer... well, I kinda am, but that's besides the point. I would risk looking like I belong on an episode of Criminal Minds if it meant getting to fuck with Dre.

"Sorry? Sorry? That's all you gotta say?" my brother yelled. Damn, the dude was tense. I replied with a shrug of my shoulders and facial expression to match... both of which didn't really fly with Dre.

"You were gone for three days, Calum! Three fucking days! You expect me not to worry?" his voice had risen even louder, if that were even possible. Damn, bro. Chill the fuck out.

"What did you think?" I scoffed, "that I died or some shit?"

"Honestly?" he laughed, the annoyance evident in his voice. "Yes. You know for damn sure that's a possibility in what we do."

"Well, whatever man," I groaned, a hand making its way through my tousled hair, tugging at the ends; Something I do when I'm stressed or aggravated. "I'm here now, right? So chill and give me my next assignment." I replied, rolling my eyes at how much of a pussy he was being.

"Alright, well Vic dropped off the newest shipment, and I need you to spread it across town to our clients by Saturday." I nearly laughed out loud at the sound of that. For two reasons: One, it was Thursday... I think. It was incredibly unreasonable to have an entire shipment dealt out within three days. And two, if someone had walked in on us, they'd assume we weren't doing anything illegal. People are stupid as hell.

"I refuse," I scoffed yet again, but this time a groan escaped my lips at the sight of Dre's serious and slightly concerned expression.

I rubbed my hands up and down my face aggressively before one of them made itself through my hair, lightly tugging at the ends yet again. It's kinda become a bad habit. I knew Dre wouldn't take no for an answer and that I needed to deal out this shipment. Little did he know, I hadn't even finished selling out the last one.

"The fuck you mean, I refuse? You ain't refusing shit, Calum," he spat. His tone was hard and sharp, venom dripping from each syllable that escaped his lips. And he made damn sure that I knew he was serious by using my full name. He never called me by my full name. I shook my head slightly, more frustrated than anything else, and fell back onto the sofa adjacent to Dre.

Most people would be terrified of being yelled at by a man like Dre, but I sure as hell ain't one of them. I didn't even flinch. I never do.

"I mean I am sitting my ass down here, currently refusing your orders. Get it?" cocking my head to the side, my infamous, sinister smile plastered itself across my face once again. I mocked him in the most sarcastic tone I could muster. Sarcasm is just too natural to me.

"I'm sick of this shit, Calum! Just deal out this batch and we'll call it even, alright?" he sighed. I put him through so much shit, I'm surprised he hasn't had a fucking stroke or something from all the stress. I never feel guilty enough to stop making his life a living hell, though.

Dropping the sack full of what was most likely cocaine onto the table in front of me, Dre left the room immediately, leaving me to groan louder than I had all evening as I laid across the couch. I ran my hands up and down my face a few times before dropping them down to pockets, searching for my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket as soon as I felt it vibrate, reading its glowing screen:

PARTY TONIGHT!

"Fuck it," I mumbled to myself, glancing up the stairs to make sure Dre was out of the room. If he wants me to deal this shit, I may as well do it my way.

I made my way up to my master bedroom to freshen up. After all, I had been wearing the same skinny jeans, t-shirt and jean jacket for the past three days.

After throwing my clothes aimlessly across the floor, I stepped into the shower briefly, washing off the smell of tobacco and liquor and sweat, just so I could re-douse myself in them later on tonight. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I shook my hair out, running a hand through it a few times until I had gotten it the way I wanted it. Good enough.

I pulled on a different pair of black jeans, along with a Metallica shirt and leather jacket. My go-to look. With just an added bit of cologne, I was ready to go, pulling on a pair of black Converse high tops.

I grabbed the necessities on my way out: my phone, my keys, and a few bags of cocaine. Perfect. Now we're set.

I jogged down the stairs, and just as I was about to make my way out the door, I noticed one of my many band shirts. On someone. Someone who sure as hell wasn't me. As far as I was concerned, my shirt was the only thing she had on.

Most people would probably be concerned or scared as to why some random chick was in their house wearing their shirt, but this was a weekly occurrence.

"Amanda," I spat, my tone slightly questioning, acknowledging the blonde girl currently in my Bring Me The Horizon shirt.

"I'm not Amanda? My name is Hailey?" she growled slightly, clearly annoyed that I didn't know who the hell she was.

I rolled my eyes, not able to give less of a fuck about whether I got her name wrong. I was about to step out the door, as I turned and shouted up the stairs.

"Dre, stop giving your one night stands all my fucking shirts."

As soon as I got an angry and slightly hurt expression out of Aman--Hailey, I grinned to myself and made my way outside.

I barely made it into my car before my phone began blowing up, people clearly pissed off that I hadn't helped feed their cocaine addictions quite yet.

Welcome to a day in the life of Calum Hood.