Nebula

chapter three//rolex

LEROUX;

 

I was brushing my hands through the blonde hair belonging to the girl I was currently snogging. She said her name was Hannah. I felt kind of bad that I probably wouldn't ever see her again.

"How much did you pay for that skirt?" someone shouted from behind her. "'Cause with me it's 100% off."

I mentally shuddered the instant Hannah smiled against my lips. Who would dare treat girls like that? Although, to be honest, I probably wasn't much better, snogging her in the back alley of a club.

She turned around and drunkly stumbled to the car. I could feel the strong taste of whiskey in my throat; I tried to brush it off.

What if she got raped? What if she got murdered?

"Be careful!" I shouted. She grinned and gave me a thumb-up. I truly hoped she'd be fine.

I took one of my cigarettes and lit it, blowing the smoke upwards.

"Can I-I-I," someone hiccupped from beside me.

"A cigarette?" I responded, giving him my lighter and one.

"These are fucking good, where'd you get them?" he asked.

I wanted to tell him I got them from the convenience store around the corner.

"I smuggled them on the train from home," I replied instead.

"How much do you want for the whole pack?" he asked.

Well, the whole pack would be five dollars. However, mine was more than half-way done in the four days I had it.

"I don't know, how much are you willing to pay?" I asked. I wouldn't be the one to put the words in his mouth.

"Is sixty enough? That's all I have on me," he said with a frown.

My eyes got big, which he thankfully didn't see because of the light that was reflecting against my glasses. I mentally told myself to get better at controlling my emotions.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I said, extending my hand.

That's when I spotted the Rolex he wore. I knew he looked familiar — I saw him in the paper earlier today. Sullivan Dunne — Ireland's personal golden boy.

I shook his hand, trying to estimate the weight of the Rolex. It didn't seem to be a fake judging by that.

"Sullivan," he said, sucking on his cigarette like a toddler. I mentally laughed — this boy was no smoker. This was his third, maybe fourth.

"Oh, I know," I answered, quietly enough for him not to hear my amused tone. "I saw you in the paper earlier."

"Anyway, thank you," he said, extending his hand. I took it and went in for a hug. "It was nice meeting you, Sullivan," I said as I slipped his watch off. I slipped it in the front pocket of my jacket just before I pulled away and entered the club.

The instant I did, I ran to the main exit. Surely, Dunne was drunk, but I had no idea how much time it would take him to realize he didn't have his watch on him.

I got out the other way around and hauled a taxi. Giving him my address, I relaxed in the backseat. Looking back, I saw no sign of Dunne — he was either still outside, or in the club, but he hadn't realized I took his watch.

I started nodding off, the way the taxi rocked from left to right. After an hour an a half, the taxi pulled up to the Academy. I paid him from the sixty dollars Dunne had given me.