Flight Ch. 01

Author Note: This is the edited version of my first chapter brought to you by the f-ing Queen lilmeow_6. Ya'll better worship her because she stayed faithful to my flaky ass. And gave me a smack down in grammar <3 CR

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"Mina, stop looking at me like that. You'll get premature wrinkles."

I hugged my jacket closer to my body, my muscles twitching under the stress of being outside of my apartment. There was too much noise, too many people, too many eyes, too many chances.

Too many chances for him to come and pluck me out of my existence. Again.

I rolled my eyes and I tried not to get sucked into the wild energy around Alma. She was like fire in heels, and if the world wasn't careful, she'd set it on fire as an afterthought. Her confidence was one of the reasons I had chanced the outside—but too often I forget that I was always a sucker for false security.

The best course of action with Alma was to ignore her. Her mind worked too fast to process any type of slight. That's why she had yanked me from my apartment, out into the humid summer to go to a new drug dealer that could give her what she needed. She needed the world to slow down for her.

I kept my fingers interlaced in hers, her chunky silver rings cutting into my palm. But if I didn't keep a hold of her, she'd fly off.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked her, as we walked deeper into downtown. The houses were squeezing tighter together, most in different states of repair because the disease of gentrification was seeping into the neighborhood.

When Alma yanked me around to the corner of State and Chestnut, I heard the shuttering noise of her sliding her phone awake.

"Yeah, I talked to Parker, he told me this guy was who I needed to talk to," Alma said thumbing through her messages.

"Alma, Parker is half fried from E. You sure you want to do this?"

She flipped her silky, honey-blonde tipped hair over her shoulder, "Is that not proof he knows how to push his own product?"

I rolled my eyes at her, "Let's just get what you came for, so I can go back to binge watching Netflix."

Alma yanked open the latched door and started up the steps that had clearly seen a lot of junkie traffic, "You're so boring, Mina. You should talk to Moonie, too. Maybe he can prescribe you something to give you a personality."

"Okay, Alma. And is Moonie his real name or is this an opportune moment from God?"

Alma, gave me a kilowatt smile, "He's usually extremely high. Parker told me that sometimes he's got freebies. Here it is. 29A."

"Freebies," I laughed, "I don't think that's how drug dealers are supposed to work."

Alma gave a quick rap on the door, "I don't specialize in drug dealing. But listen, this is a new guy, so hopefully he won't play us. Try to keep that great sarcastic mouth I rely on under wraps."

I kissed her cheek, "When do I not?"

There was a sound of multiple locks being undone and then a slim guy answered the door. He had on dirty jeans and a paint smeared tie-dyed shirt. His hair was standing in different directions and tragically I couldn't decide if it was on purpose or not.

Alma flipped a switch. These were the best parts she put forth to hide the broken pieces of her.

She hadn't been able to hide it from me. Then again, broken people attract broken people. Some of us were just better at hiding it.

"Hi," Alma said her voice an octave higher than normal, "I've been talking to Moonie. Parker sent me?"

Tie-Dye looked Alma over and I felt myself tense. Alma was a small little Asian girl with a habit. This was the only reason I came with her—she was so vulnerable. Luckily, her charisma was like a spell and few people knew she kept a small little knife tucked under the strap of her low-heeled boot. It had gotten her out of a few hard spots.

"Come on in, ladies," he said like every other douchebag I had encountered over the years, "but the jackets come off. Standard procedure, you understand."

It must have shown on my face because he just raised a brow at me but held his hand out to collect them. I didn't like the air of the apartment on my skin and I wished I'd worn a normal T-shirt instead of a halter top.

He swept his hand outwards to usher us forward and I made a point to stick close to Alma even though being that close to anyone made my stomach clench.

The inside of the small apartment was as gross as I predicted: dark stains all over the carpet, a quilt thrown over a sunken in couch that would have made a piñata cry, and Moonie, red-eyed and giving Alma a toothy grin.

"You must be Parker's fuck buddy?" he asked and I saw Alma's shoulders straighten slightly and she gave me a glance that said we would talk about it later.

I looked away because there was nothing I could do to stall her crash landing into Earth.

Alma plopped down next to Moonie, a cloud of weed taking to the air. She patted the cushion beside her but I didn't sit down.

"Yeah and this is Mina." She said in her bubblegum voice.

"So, ladies, what can I do you for?" Moonie asked, his voice sounding happily raw.

Alma's hand smoothed over his thigh, "We heard you could hook us up."

Moonie laughed, "That's all anyone ever wants from me. They never ask how I'm doing. What are my needs, you know? It's all give, give, give."

Alma giggled and I saw her hand was getting close to Moonie's zipper that was now straining against his erection.

"Okay, Moonie," she said wiggling closer, her hand slipping under the waistband of his jeans, "Tell me what your needs are."

I looked away not because this whole entire situation was slimy as hell but because there was no reason for Alma to go this route. She was more than capable of getting what she wanted from Moonie without groping him.

I heard the crash of pans behind me and Tie-Dye laughed, "Christ Moonie, get a room, will you?"

Alma removed her hand sheepishly but answered for Moonie, "If you all will excuse us."

I widened my eyes at her begging her not to leave me alone out here. I didn't like being alone with men...or anyone for that matter. Humans had complicated motives.

Alma didn't give me a break, though. She grabbed Moonie's hand and pulled him to the nearest room. Clearly, Tie-Dye and Moonie didn't have preferences on who fucked where. When the cheap door clipped shut my annoyance skyrocketed. This was supposed to be a quick grab and go... not a literal quickie.

"You can sit down, you know?" Tie-Dye said and I turned to see him rolling a joint between his fingers.

I didn't know how long Alma was going to be but I didn't want to sit down. It was easier to start running when you were already on your feet. Instead, I leaned against the wall that allowed me to watch him, the bedroom door, and the front door.

"So, you're friends with Alma, huh?" he said absently as if he was used to being forced to be nice to the druggies that came through his door.

"Yup," I said shortly because I didn't want to talk to him.

Alma's low moan filtered out into the living room marking the awkwardness of the situation.

"You're really quiet; you're not taking downers, are you? I don't need you to go home and kill yourself because of me."

I looked at him sharply, noticing the scale and baggies in front of him. He had a pencil behind his ear and two phones off to the side.

My silence made him look up at me, his blue eyes mischievous. A muscle in the back of my neck tensed up, an old feeling that made my heart beat harder. This guy was super sober...and Moonie wasn't. What kind of drug dealer met his customers, new ones at least, fucked up? Unless Moonie wasn't the dealer.

My anxiety level shot up and I was very much considering interrupting Alma and dragging her out of here whether she liked it or not. But Alma's moans were getting louder and shorter together and I could hear the sound of a headboard against the wall.

"I don't do drugs." I said, and even to me it came out extremely bitchy.

He pinched the top of the baggy, sealing it closed and walked around the bar.

"Good, they're bad for you. Here, this is Alma's," he smirked, holding it out to me.

I pushed myself off the wall, "But she hasn't paid for it yet."

He smirked at me again, the look borderline condescending, "Parker already fronted for her. She didn't tell you?"

Of course, she didn't fucking tell me because she's selfish. I pushed my hair behind my ear, shelving my anger until I had Alma alone.

"It's whatever." I said tersely, reaching out to grab the bag but Tie-Dye's hand shot out grabbing my upper arm.

"Whoa, that tattoo is a banger," he said in awe pulling me around further to look at the tattoo that took up most of my shoulder blade.

I knew what he would see: the black outline of a crown. It was intricate and simple at the same time without being overly flashy. The ink, heavy, made it stand out against my skin. Laying underneath, as if it had fallen and floated to the ground, was a black tipped Native feather that was curled sharply at the end and had a beaded leather string wrapped in and out of the spokes of the crown.

Tie-Dye's finger traced it and I felt as if my body turned to ice. "This is a really random sigma for you, isn't it? What does it mean?" his voice questioning.

My skin rippled in anger. "Firstly, it's symbol not sigma. I don't let high school dropouts touch me."

"Bruh, what the fuck is your problem?"

Your life...an icy voice said from the blackness I'd been working to contain.

"Don't worry about it." Or my tattoo, that voice cried, echoing in my skull. With a sinking, terrifying feeling I realized it was because I wanted to protect Derrick.

Touching me was always a bad idea.

I wanted to get the fuck out of there but Tie-Dye's hand tightened, trapping me.

Memories that I had been able to shove into the basement of my mind, broke through almost blinding me with fear. Suddenly, I'm not in this shitty apartment and it's not Tie-Dye tracing the feather.

It's him.

I can still feel his lips on my ear, his voice seductive and cold, "No one else can touch you. Don't test me on this, Mina. What do you say to me?"

"You can't touch me," I whispered leaning away from his speculative look.

"What? I just wanna know about your tattoo."

"Let go!" I yelled, panicking, because this was against the rules.

The bedroom door flew open and Alma, skin shiny with sweat, her tits bouncing as she shoved on her shirt, looked startled.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get your fucking hands off her!" Alma said, her face scrunched with guilt.

"Derrick, man what the fuck is going on!" Moonie yelled from inside of the room.

"Nothing, I just asked about her tat and she freaked the fuck out," he said holding his hands up like he was surrendering.

Alma walked over to where our jackets were and snatched them up. "Come on, Mina." This time it was her turn to take the lead.

I heard scrambling from the bedroom. "Alma, wait!" Moonie called but she ignored him as we walked out the door. Before the door shut, I saw Derrick looking at me, his face sharp with questions.

****

"What happened, Mina?" Alma asked me for the hundredth time. I had tried to escape into my apartment but she had bullied her way in. I was almost thankful because that disaster in Moonie's apartment had been...more than unpleasant.

It had jarred me out of the safety net I thought I had built myself. I was so stupid to think that it was impenetrable. I had spent so much time trying to hide myself under layers of lies that I had made myself forget that I was still running and the pieces I had put in front of myself were not real.

"Something happened. You looked as pale as the ghost of Spanish past." She said opening a package of almonds and plopping one in her mouth.

"Funny," I breathed, "I just...I don't know. I don't like people touching me, you know. People don't understand a little thing called personal space."

I heard her chomping obnoxiously, "You can be all nonchalant if you want, Mina. I know you're hiding something."

I slammed down the junk mail I had picked up and put down twenty times, "That's really funny coming from the drug addict."

There was a rich silence behind me and when I turned around I could still see the shadow of hurt in Alma's eyes.

"Alma...I'm sorry," I said and I meant it. I wasn't always this person. I wasn't always this ugly.

She held up her hand. "Forget it, Mina. It's cool, we all have our shit to work through," she grinned at me, her façade back, "now make some popcorn while I go to the bathroom. Then we're going to binge all night."

She didn't wait for me to reply probably because I would do what she asked. It rankled as much as I cared to admit but Alma gave me direction...a habit that I hadn't been able to shake. As a matter of fact, I hadn't been able to shake anything about tonight.

Why had that stupid drug dealer made me so fucking nervous? Anyone who saw my tattoo usually had questions. It was as beautiful as much as it wasn't cohesive.

He had wanted to make it clear that I was his, first and foremost.

It was certainly too masculine.

I gave myself an internal shake because it had been more than two years. I shouldn't still be watching my back.

Damn, what a lie.

"Alright," Alma said bouncing back into the room, "I need Cillian Murphy in my life—let's do this."

*****

Derrick laid back on his bed, twirling his phone in his hands. The text he had been waiting for had come in a few hours ago and for once, his conscience was fucking with him.

It wasn't often that he had opportunities fall into his lap.

He had seen so many people in and out of this apartment, supplying a rainbow of addicts. Most annoyed him, some he hated, rarely did he feel bad. Until Alma and her friend had walked through his door. Alma was whatever. She had fucked Moonie, who was still going on about her, and she was using Parker. She was the average rich bitch who more than likely had daddy issues.

Her friend, though, she had rubbed him the wrong way the moment she walked in. She had looked down on him and she didn't hide it. He had almost fucked Alma over with her drugs because of it.

It wasn't until he saw that tattoo. The whole thing had triggered something in his memory and not in a good way.

It presented a decision that was going to haunt him if he did what he thought he might need to do. But life was about survival and right now he was going to do whatever he needed to ensure that.

Trey, the mouth that told him what to do, liked him because he was probably the most loyal pusher he had. Derrick couldn't afford to be disloyal because he didn't have a death wish but he also had people riding on him.

Trey, for favoring him so much, didn't like his questions, though.

"Why the fuck are you asking me about that?" his deep voice asked in Derrick's ear.

"I'm pushing the shit at my own risk, why can't I?"

Trey sighed, "Listen, white boy, them ain't the people you wanna ask about. They supply us, we do what we're told."

"I'm not trying to test anyone...I just heard rumors and was curious."

"You can't be curious in this business, kid. Those motherfuckers out west aren't normal. They also don't like outsiders—doesn't matter if we're working for them or not."

"Their symbol...it's the five-point crown, right?" He still heard Mina's hypnotic voice correcting him. It had been eerie.

"Yeah, it's all pretty and shit," he laughed loudly, "way too nice for them."

Derrick nodded, "What about the feather?"

The other line got quiet, "Why are you asking me about that?"

"I just saw it today. The tat...with the crown...and the feather."

Trey cursed, his voice actually tight with fear, "You sure? I need you to be one-hundred percent, kid."

"Without a doubt." Derrick said nervously. Trey was a big motherfucker and few people crossed him. Those who did, didn't last long.

"Goddamn it. What the fuck is Archer doing out here? You haven't been fucking up, have you? If you've pissed him off I can't save you. Fuck, I couldn't save myself."

"Who is Archer?"

"He's the fucking right-hand for the head of this little business we got going. He helps run this whole shit-show. But I heard he was involved with some HR changes, you feel me? The ranks have changed. He should have his hands full with that."

"Someone took his spot?"

"No, kid, he took theirs. He's third rank. He specializes in bodies. I don't fucking want him in my backyard."

Derrick scrubbed his hand over his face feeling like maybe he was way in over his head.

"There were some waves in the lines about a year or two ago," Trey said mostly to himself, "I wasn't told what it was, but I know Archer and his crew were scouring all over the place. They weren't in our city but I know they were close in Indiana. I figured it was someone who was going to end up in cement."

"What about a traitor?" Derrick asked suddenly.

"I wouldn't ever want to be that motherfucker. They're like a fucking fighting dog, ya know? They ain't gonna let shit go."

Derrick had convinced Trey to give him a way to get a hold of Archer's team. He had tried to be as obscure as possible because he understood why Archer hadn't been explicit about what he was looking for. Too many jerks out there trying to up their position...trying to hold more power.

Thankfully, Archer's reputation was strong enough to turn Trey off. He had texted him the number he needed to call but also sent a prayer in Spanish because he was sure Derrick was signing his own death warrant.

Alma's friend. He had thought the look in her eyes was judgmental. But now? It might have been something else.

Derrick needed a way out but one that was going to ensure he could take care of his two younger siblings. He had worked hard to keep them away from his horrible stepdad and out of the foster system. He needed to secure them. But that didn't make him feel better about having to trade her over. If they were even looking for her anymore.

Derrick switched his phone on and dialed the number, hoping this wouldn't haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Pointeman." A brisk voice said and Derrick cleared his throat.

"This is Derrick Hampton. I want to talk to Archer."

"Too bad, Archer isn't available. Tell me what you want and I might pass it on."

He rushed out with it before he lost his nerve, ".... Has he lost anything lately?"

"You're getting awfully vague for a little nobody dealing out of a college apartment."

Derrick froze, they knew who the fuck he was.

The voice on the other side of the line gave a low menacing laugh, "We know everyone who deals for us."

"Well, do you know I found something of his?"

"I suggest you explain and go quickly, my attention span for idiots is limited."

"She's about 5'7, probably Spanish, pretty, has a feather on her shoulder."

There was a slight intake of breath that he wasn't sure he was supposed to hear. Either way it spurred him on, "I can tell you where she is but Archer is going to have to do something for me."

There was a longer moment of silence, "Well, look at you little nobody. Today is your lucky day."

****

"You go home, Mina! You been here too long and I'm not paying you extra!" Mr. Ricci yelled at me from the front of the shop.

I could imagine one side of his mouth gathering spit because that was his favorite side to talk, cuss, and verbally harass anyone. Most of it was a bluff and it was endearing once you got used to him.

He was built like a stout wall and still wore his shirts unbuttoned enough to show off his chest hair. This didn't decrease traffic because Ricci's had the best pastries in this town and he was just as much as an attraction than anything.

He had also been the only one who was willing to pay me under than table in cash. I had been too terrified to go onto the radar or use my social security number on any type of electronic job applications. But I had been running low on cash and been scrambling to find anything that would keep me afloat—that wouldn't require my soul.