Tweaker

iv. dealing secrets

iv. dealing secrets

     "YOU TWO NEVER change, do you?"  A familiar voice called out, approaching where we stood on the bridge.  Swallowing hard, I allowed myself to recognize the voice -- one I never thought I'd hear again in my life.  Looking up at Finn, his face changed immediately as he raised his eyes to the dark figure walking towards us.  His expression was no longer soft and concerned, loving and caring; he was angry, cold and menacing.  This was the face everyone else but me saw on a regular basis; Finn, in his natural way. 

     Looking back at him, I allowed my mind to go blank. I hadn't seen him in a long time; I didn't want to make things any worse than they already would be.  For the first six months that Finn and I had been close friends, Preston had been wrapped in our shenanigans, as well.  Our falling out was bad . . . but his and Finn's was even worse.  For a moment, I thought we were dealing to him, but instead, Finn's body grew erect at my side.

     "What are you doing here, Pres?"  He asked, making an attempt to shield my body with his so Preston couldn't have a good look at me.  I watched in awe as Preston put his hands up defensively, laughing a little at our current positions.

     "I came for a friendly chat," Preston replied slyly, causing me to slam my eyes shut for a brief moment before addressing him.

     "You know as well as we do that your chats are never friendly."

     "Ah," he chuckled, again, nodding, "You're right . . .  I do know this."

     We fell silent then, sizing one another up.  I knew Finn and I were ready for a fight whenever one arose, but we didn't know how much had changed with Preston.  We still knew all his old tricks . . . and the bad part about that was Pres still knew ours, too.  For a moment, we waited -- all three of us -- for the other to make a move.

     Then, I stepped out in front of Finn and slowly put one hand behind my back, reaching into my pocket, while my other hand stayed raised in a defensive manner.  I didn't want him to come any closer than he was, and I wanted him to know that I wasn't going to lunge at him unexpectedly . . . but I also didn't want to turn my back and make myself vulnerable.

     Pulling out my switchblade, I dropped it on the ground in front of him.  Finn sucked in a sharp breathe behind me while I dropped my hands at my side, speaking, "Now you know I'm clean.  What about you?"

     Smirking, he reached into his pocket and put his own butterfly blade on the ground, saying, "You know me too well.  Finn?"

     "I haven't carried anything on me in years," he spat out, "You know that."

     "You're right . . . again.  I just didn't know if you'd started to carry while I was away, out of fear or anything," Preston smirked even deeper while he spoke, causing me to look down at my feet for a moment while his eyes diverted back to me.

     "You don't scare me," Finn spat out.

     "I should."

     "Enough!"  I yelled, turning towards Preston, again, "What do you want?"

     "I came here to inform you that you need to stop selling meth to my brother.  I know he called in for a hit . . . and I want you to stop," he growled out, his eyes narrowing in on Finn, who was still standing behind me.

     I don't know if it was shock that took over or fear for Finn, but either way, my emotions were at one another's throats.  Finn and I had made a deal with each other when we started to distribute; we wouldn't sell meth, simply because we'd both lost people to that drug.  We saw what it did to those we loved and we didn't want to see anyone else go through that.  Meth was bound to destroy everyone in her path and we weren't about to lay down the cobblestones for her to walk on . . .  Or, at least, that's what I thought.