Lethal (The Disciples 1)

Smirking, I don’t hesitate and grab a display phone then turn and walk away along with my giant tampon collection. Got to love tampons. They make even the biggest, scariest guys look away. I bring the phone to my ear—and this is my favorite part—I start talking to my pretend boyfriend. We’re fighting, so of course my voice is loud. The more I talk, the less people have interest in anything but what I’m telling him. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

As if I own the place, I walk straight for the nice little Hispanic man. He smiles kindly at me as I sit down my giant box of tampons and start to get tears in my eyes as I pretend to hang up on my pretend boyfriend. Shaking my long hair I drop the phone in my bag and sniffle up into his concerned eyes.

He clears his voice. “That will be fifteen dollars and forty-five cents, and are you okay?”

“Yes, I guess. Guy problems.”

He nods. “Well, I have a daughter around your age. You need to dump him and concentrate on school.”

I nod and mumble, “You’re probably right.” Brazenly I open my bag and grab my wallet, handing him a twenty. He gives me my change.

“You take care.” His kind smile should make me feel bad. It doesn’t. I smile sweetly at him. It’s almost too easy. That charge I need not even coming anymore. How is that possible? Maybe I’ve gotten so jaded that at sixteen, nothing makes me excited. That would be depressing.

After I stop to retrieve Marina from the creeper, who wants her number, I pull her along and together we approach the exit. At last, I feel a twinge of adrenaline because if the smartphone has a security tag, this will be when the alarm goes off.

A couple of guys walk out right before us and it’s almost like I’m blessed. The alarm goes off and I have to bite my lip not to smile. Because as soon as I get close I go off too, but the guard is bringing the boys in thinking it’s them.

Marina and I keep talking and exit the store. Warm air hits me as we make our way to the truck.

“Did you get my stuff?” Her dilated eyes make me think she and the creeper might have smoked something.

Again, I wonder why my brother keeps her around. I start the truck.

“Yeah, I got your lipstick and some mascara. We need to hurry. I want to reinforce my balloons. Last night I gave away way too much shit.”

She nods but is clearly in another world. I reach over and roll down my window and turn up the radio.

We hit traffic. Of course we do—we’re in LA—and a drive that should have taken fifteen minutes takes forty-five. So, I’m sweaty and pissed that I can’t change my balloons. There’s not enough time since the lights and music are already on when we arrive. The carnival is almost ready to open. I park the truck next to my trailer and slap at Marina to wake up. Whatever she took was definitely not an upper.

“Here.” I toss the mascara and ugly lipstick at her.

“I’m late and I need to change. I’d say thanks for coming with me but…” I raise my eyebrow at her.

“What?” she snips, reaching for the visor and checking herself in the mirror.

“O-kaay, I’m out.” I grab my purse and swing open our trailer door. A cloud of smoke hits me. On our ugly green and brown couch sit my brother and Paul. Or Pauly the prick—that’s what I like to call him.

“Jesus.” I wave my hand in front of my face. Deep wheezing coughs bring my attention to the back of the trailer where my dad sits on the edge of his bed.

“Daddy? You okay?” I maneuver my way through the pile of dirty clothes and stand in front of him. His head hangs down and he is clutching a lit cigarette as he coughs and hisses his way through his latest bout.

“Daddy?” My voice sounds small and frightened because I am. My dad is sick. His lungs are black and he’s slowly suffocating with emphysema. But do you think he would stop smoking for a second? No.

For a moment, he looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and smiles. “Don’t give me crap, Baby Girl. I need one today.” He stands his full height and I almost burst into tears at my tall handsome father, not even fifty yet getting ready to die.

“I understand. Are they… are they still coming?”

I go to sit on the bed as he grabs his leather jacket. It’s hot out but he seems to get the chills. I know it’s because he gets fevers. But today he needs to look strong. He would rather die than show any weakness to the head of the Disciples, the MC that basically runs this area. Since we are only passing through, my dad and Benny usually buy a bunch of weed, meth, and whatever else is popular and sell it to the locals who come to the carnival. He’s been doing it for about five years, and it seems to be working for us and the club. Easy money on both sides.