Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I’ve been hustling for as long as I can remember. Making sure my family is safe is my top priority which is why I joined the Riders in the first place. They gave me aid at my lowest and I trust them. It’s a hard and dangerous life but it works for me. At least it did until I met Andy and now all my thoughts are filled with her. I want her. Forever.
Andy
I’ve been hustling longer than I can remember. My mom is in a downward spiral. The bills keep piling up. Between taking care of her and making sure I graduate high school with honors, I don’t have time for even friends let alone boyfriends. I can only rely on one person and that’s me. This rough rider isn’t going to change my mind even though he’s more attractive than sin and I can’t keep him out of my head. I want him. Forever
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
NIKI
Sometimes violence is the answer.
That’s a recurring thought I have whenever a little fist in the gut nets the results I want. Like in this case.
“Here. Take it.” The guy hands me a stack of Bens. Since I’m holding this guy’s head with one hand, I gesture with my chin for my partner in crime, Bam, to count the money.
He hitches up his leg, placing his boot on the rich boy’s back, and then leans his elbow against the propped-up knee. The boy’s breath whooshes out, and he starts to collapse, but I pull his head up.
“You’ll want to watch him count it. Make sure we’re not ripping you off.”
Bam licks his thumb, gives the boy a wink, and rifles through the bills.
“I-I trust you,” the boy stutters. “Keep the extra. It’s a tip.”
“Nah, we run a tight ship. Nothing more. Nothing less. You’ll need the money for your next order. We good?” I ask Bam.
“We’re good.” He taps the boy on the top of the head. “Pay in a timely fashion so we don’t have to have this conversation again.”
I drop the boy and shove my hands into my pockets, ignoring the pain when my raw knuckles scrape against the worn denim.
“Why anyone would start using, I’ll never know.” Bam shakes his head. He says this after every encounter, but to be fair, I think the same thing. Once a drug addict, always a drug addict. It’s great for business. You will always have repeat customers. The downside is that they don’t want to pay as their addiction grows. Once that happens, Bam and I get sent out. You don’t want a visit from us.
At some point, though, Clark stops selling because, as he says, you can’t get blood from a stone. There’s a limit to how much they can beg, borrow, or steal, and once you come up against that wall, it’s our policy to walk away. Some other dealer may pick that addict up and try to shake him down for more, but Clark thinks it’s more trouble than it’s worth.
He came to that decision based on Bam and my feedback. You can pound someone’s head into the concrete, but if they’ve lost it all, they just let you turn their heads into mush, and then what good are they? They’re dead, and instead of a little assault charge over your head, you’re under the microscope for murder.
Our group, I guess it’s a gang, has a few rules:
1. Don’t talk about group business to outsiders.
2. Don’t fuck over anyone else in the group.
3. Don’t do useless acts.
Useless acts include killing an addict for non-payment. A dead man can’t pay his debts.
“Who’s next?” Bam asks.
I check my paper list. We’re old school because tech is too easy to track, and paper, well, I’ve eaten a few pieces, and I’m still alive. “Andy Nunn.”
“That name sounds new.” Bam looks over my shoulder. “A senior from Central Academy. Owes two big ones.”
“Heavy user.” I pocket the list and raise my arm to make sure the bus driver sees us.
Bam groans. “Not the bus again.”
“It’s a twenty-buck ride to Central or a free one with the pass.” I wave my card in his face.
“The buses stink. And there’s always some deranged old man who wants to shove his dick in your face.”
“You must have a fuckable face, Bam. What can I say?”
“Dude. I’m not riding the bus.”
“Great. Pay for the taxi. I’ll see you there. Don’t start without me.” I hop on and swipe my Metro card.
Bam clambers on board behind me, muttering under his breath about how I’m tighter with money than a virgin’s cunt. Probably true, but it’s not like I want to be an enforcer for the rest of my life. Beating up people and taking their money isn’t real satisfying work. At least it’s not something I see myself doing in ten years. Maybe five. I can still see myself doing this in five. Actually, I could see myself still doing this in ten, and that’s what makes me take the bus because I have to change my future somehow.
Bam spends money like it’s tap water: free and always available. He spends it on crazy stuff, too, like shoes that cost a grand and a leather jacket that ran him five cool ones. It’s a fine jacket, don’t get me wrong, but nothing on this earth is worth five thousand. But knocking the shit out of people is fun for Bam, and he plans to do it for as long as he can. We had a run-in with the Pipefitters, a gang that runs the territory between Sixth Street to the south, Fifteenth to the north, and Templeton to the west. The east is a warzone between them and Smoke Crew. Both groups are always vying for power. One of our addicts ran away from us into that no-man’s-land, and we had to fish him out from under the nose of a couple of Pipefitter enforcers who were beating the daylights out of a stray Smoke Crew member who had the unfortunate luck of being caught by himself.