Diligence [H.S.]

THIRTEEN

Chapter Song: making the bed by Olivia Rodrigo

...

ANDREA WILSON

I shove the two small baggies past the waistband of my pants and slip them into the hem of my underwear once I'm standing in front of the familiar apartment door.

Jo and Oliver's cars were parked on the street, which is unusual given the time of day, and ultimately ruined my plans. One of them is typically at work while the other is at home. When they are home at the same time, they're either fucking or giving me an intervention of some kind. Based on the silence on the other side of the door in front of me, I'm guessing it's the latter.

For once, I'm disappointed that I'm not intruding on them fucking.

This may be why the universe was on my side today when I found that hundred-dollar bill on the ground. It was the glimpse of sunshine before I inevitably received my karma for spending it.

I didn't have to go see Travis. At least I have that.

I pull the small pack of pre-rolled joints I also bought inside out of my back pocket and slip it into the waistband of my jeans. God this is uncomfortable, but I won't have time to hide it properly. I wouldn't put it past Jo to peek into my bag either.

She has accidentally found my stash that way once, and I refuse to let it happen tonight. It may not have even been enough to call it a stash. After all that I did to get that small amount of coke from Travis, just to have her flush it down the toilet. I will never risk that chance again.

I pucker my lips and smack my teeth before letting out a sigh.

"Fuck it, here goes nothing," I mumble to myself before opening the door.

When I enter the apartment, Oliver and Jo are sitting patiently at the small kitchen table conversing. They aren't whispering, just quiet enough to raise my suspicions. I refrain from rolling my eyes when I see her quickly stand and take her glass of wine to the sink to pour what's left out. For fucks sake, you would think I was an alcoholic with how she hides any wine or hard liquor in this place.

It's rare she ever has it in the house now, but when she does, you would think it was illegal to have alcohol with how quickly she hides it. Not that she's very good at it.

I have to admit it isn't my first choice, if it's my only choice, I will find it.

"Hey, Andy," she calls out in a welcoming tone.

Oh fuck. I know that voice.

Either she wants something from me, needs me to do something, or has bad news.

I reluctantly set my bag down, and I have a strange intuition settling in my gut that is telling me I shouldn't make myself too comfortable. My brows start to furrow, but I force them to stay put.

"Hey," Oliver says with the same friendly delivery.

Double fuck.

"Hi," I state blandly.

I may be questioning their behavior now, but I don't want them to know that. Not yet. I glance at the table, not dismissing the possibility of a rehab center brochure to be lying on the table between them, but there isn't. Just their phones face down.

It's not a tremendous sign to make assumptions off of, but it does tell me that they don't want any distractions. Not even a text notification popping up on their screen that may drift their attention elsewhere.