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dramatic, but the
foundation is a mineral powder, allowing the richness of my purple cheek to
glow through. I slip on a pair of worn dark brown Uggs over my dark blue skinny jeans.
    Russ
knocks on the bedroom door. “Ready?”
    With
that we are out the door for our first night working at the drug house.
    A
steady stream of customers flow through the door all evening, people from every
walk of life; different colors, ages and backgrounds stop in for their weekend
party favors. With a little bit of eye flirting, several men hit on me, but I
shoot them all down, telling them I belong to Rad.
    One
high school guy whispers into my ear, offering to take me off of the old guy’s
hands if I ever decide that I want to try someone my own age. The kid is maybe
eighteen, just about my twin brothers’ age. I seriously can’t suppress the
shudder that rolls down my spine and he notices. Smiling proudly he adds that
he would rock my world. Russ, who is watching the entire exchange, growls as he
approaches, draws me into his arms and kisses the hell out of me right in front
of the guy. The kid’s apology follows as he bolts out the front door.
    Lurching
out of his grasp, I turn around and watch the kid sprint toward his car. I
laugh and Russ peaks over my shoulder, seeing the car dash out of the driveway.
    “That
kid will dream naughty thoughts about you tonight.” Russ chuckles.
    “Squad
car,” I say, pointing out the window at the slow moving marked unit passing in
front of the house.
    I
spot an elderly lady ambling out her front door in the house across from us.
She waves at the officer and takes a seat in an old rocking chair. She probably
called the police department to report suspicious activity from all the cars
stopping by here continuously. God bless the neighborhood watch. Unfortunately
for sweet little nosy-pants, she is just wasting her time calling it in. This
patrolman won’t make a move on us.
    For
reasons other than possibly knowing that this house is under task surveillance,
his department just doesn’t have the man power to shut down every nefarious
operation going on in this area. These short-lived, ghetto drive-thru houses
are like playing whack-a-mole, they pop up overnight all over the city and
disappear just as quickly. Sometimes the police department can hit them, but
soon enough they relocate and come back with a vengeance.
    The
average citizen would probably ask what good we’re doing if we are inside
promoting drugs. It doesn’t make sense to do the very thing we are trying to
stop, but infiltrating the upper management division of drug lords means
temporarily forfeiting morality, becoming something we despise. Unfortunately,
where we’re at in this game, for the time being, is the ground-level grunt work
and that means selling. If the guys and Lourdes don’t find me as a threat, Russ
will be brought in on a transporting level soon, another step closer to the
inner circle. I pray this job doesn’t take as long as Russ fears it will.
    Nearing
midnight the guys arrive from their college party. They are high as a kite and
laughing their asses off when they bound through the front door. Decks strolls
over, glancing at the bruise on my cheek he lifts a hand and tenderly slides
the back of his cool knuckles over it. “You okay Angel?” he asks staring into
my eyes like he might possibly give a damn.
    Nodding
weakly, I softly affirm, “Yeah, thanks.” I hold his magnetic stare a moment
longer and he graces me with a sexy smile.
    Murph
strides over, followed by a couple of new faces and they also check out my
partially covered injury. Wincing playfully, Murph mumbles softly, “Ah, it
doesn’t look too bad.”
    Russ
charges over and pulls me away from Decks, who keeps his gaze locked on me. “So
how was the party?” Russ asks, a bit of jealousy flowing with his question.
    Sitting
in a wingback chair, Decks gloats. “We sold out.” Minder, one of the new guys,
takes a seat on the old, flower