If I Let This Go

I should have seen it coming…why didn’t I figure it out? My trembling fingers nearly dropped the phone at least three times as I listened to his so-called plan.

“So here’s what you need to do, Megan. Well…you see, the only real and reliable drug dealer left is that bastard Marcel and his crew. From what Chase told me last time I talked to him, Marcel works around the same club scene in Vegas, only this time the club’s called Devil’s Advocate. It’s mainstream so not only should it be easy to find…but he wouldn’t get away with any sketchy business without being seen by someone,” Ronnie explained.

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, so drug dealing isn’t sketchy?”

“Look, you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure, Ronnie. That guy really screwed you over…and in case you forgot I was there at the scene, I’m sure he’ll remember my face easily.”

“Well, change your appearance. We both know that you pulled one hell of a move on me last year when you took on this new drastic look of yours.”

I sighed loudly into the phone knowing that it probably sounded obnoxious on his end. Did I love Ronnie? Yes, for the most part. Did I want to completely risk my life for a simple reward? No, not really.

“Megan, just picture you and I together again. Escape the Fate will be able to make a quick recovery and things will be ten times better than before,” he insisted.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Ronnie you better listen and listen good. I’ll do this but I swear you will be sorry if something goes wrong after or if you in the slightest way make me unhappy,” I growled.

I bet my threat didn’t even scare him. I only say this because 1. It’s Ronnie and 2. The smile in his voice was ridiculously audible.

“You won’t regret this, baby.”

Yeah, for both our sakes…I better not. I slid my cell phone shut and awaited the detailed text message that would ensue, telling me all I needed to know and what I needed to get. And here I thought visiting him at that damn prison was the end of the world. Ugh.

“Going out?” Craig asked in a surprised tone as he glanced up from the magazine he was reading.

“Yeah,” I said sorting through things in my purse trying to find my spare key to the van.

“Here, take these,” he said chucking a pair of keys at me.

“The keys to your convertible?”

He nodded, “No reason for one person to drive the minivan. Are you going to be out late?”

I shrugged, “Hopefully not. Just going to run a few errands. Want anything from the grocery store?”

“Would you mind getting some more eggs. I’m feeling like brownie-making tonight.”

I grinned, “Then I’ll definitely be home asap. Can’t miss tasting those delicious brownies.”

He laughed and returned to his magazine. As I walked out to the car parked in the driveway, a strange thought entered my mind…why couldn’t Ronnie be more like Craig?

The Devil’s Advocate was located noticeably close to the club where all hell broke loose mere months ago. I cannot believe I’m actually going through with this. My eyes cautiously scanned the crowd that was continuously growing inside the cramped space. Marcel and the remainders of his gang were sitting in a large booth near the exit of the building. I drew in a deep breath as I walked past the people and approached the table.

The boys’ conversation stopped instantly as all eyes turned and landed on me. “Can we help you?” Michael Colquitt asked, shamelessly eyeing me up and down.

I glanced sideways before sitting down boldly next to Marcel Colquitt. “I need a bit of a fix,” I said a bit fidgety, I guess making myself look like I was experience some sort of desperate withdrawal symptom.

“Then I believe you came to the right place,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

Hopefully, he didn’t see me cringe. I relayed what Ronnie told me to order and watched carefully as Michael pulled the requested material out of a black bag resting underneath the table. This almost seemed too easy.

I allowed a smile to form on my face, just small enough to be seen. I assumed that’s how a druggie would react when seeing their next fix handed to them. “Now as far as payment goes,” Marcel said, clearing his throat, “normally it would be roughly $500. But because of who I know you work with, it’s gonna be an arm or a leg.”

I felt a confused look crawl onto my face. “An arm or a leg? Doesn’t the phrase say ‘arm and a leg? How much are we talking here?”

Michael and Marcel exchanged amused looks. “It’s exactly what he said. Either give us an arm or a leg…or pay double the normal price,” Michael explained.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my sockets as my hands rested on my lap. I glanced down looking at my arms and legs. They couldn’t be serious. “T-that’s crazy,” I stammered, pulling the wad of money out of my pocket.

I knew I only had $500. Ronnie told me that was all I would need! I held the five hundred dollar bills out in front of me and looked up at their waiting faces with sad eyes. “I only have enough to cover the original price,” I said quietly.

Marcel grinned, “No worries, we can always accommodate.”

“How?”

“Why don’t we take this out to the back lot?” he asked, leaning close…attempting to be seductive. Clearly, there would be no other way to get the goods, and I refuse to have come here for no reason.

Reluctantly and nervously, I followed them out the back door and onto the dimly lit parking lot. “What else do you want from me?” I asked.

“Well,” Marcel pondered, “you were only able to cover half the price, which means you need to pay for the other half. If only you weren’t in relation with that bastard Radke, then I wouldn’t have to do this to you.”

“Do what?” I demanded.

He grinned, almost maliciously. “You’re gonna have to pay for the other 50% of the price with your blood.”

My eyes widened as I subconsciously backed away from them. “P-please don’t. I promise Ronnie won’t be back here again. He won’t cause you any trouble!” I pleaded.

“Sorry, Megan,” Marcel said as he slipped on a pair of brass knuckles, “it’s nothing personal, honestly.”

He charged at me suddenly with his fingers balled into a tight, spiky fist. My body was frozen in place and my eyes squeezed shut. I knew this was inescapable, so why bother running? Maybe he’ll be nice and do this quickly. His fist made contact with my stomach, sending me hurling down onto my knees, tightly clutching my stomach under some false assumption that would actually ease the pain.

I heard metal clatter to the ground as he disposed of his knuckles. “I don’t want to ruin your pretty face,” he commented before swinging and aiming right for my eye.

I cried out as the impact reached my eye, swelling it almost immediately. Blood began to trickle gently from the four holes embedded in my torso. It wasn’t much, yet it was enough to create a small puddle on the ground and soak through my shirt.

Marcel looked down at me with some strange look of sympathy and confusion. Michael tossed me the bags of powder. Shakily, I stood back up on my feet. “Get out of here before I change my mind,” he said, trying to sound cruel, but I could tell there was something else in his voice…he was being nice…

Why do I think this? Because there is nowhere near what I would consider $500 worth of blood back there on the pavement. Needless to say, I didn’t hesitate getting the hell out of there and speeding down the vacant highway. I hope no one is awake when I get back…this would be a very awkward story to tell.

*Ronnie’s POV*

What am I going to do? Andrea has taken no time at all to enjoy every moment she can with me every since Megan left the other day. As bad as it sounds…sometimes it seems like Andrea is more of my girlfriend than Megan is. I mean, I’ve seen Andrea for almost 48 hours straight now. And within those 48 hours, well, let’s just say I’ve seen a lot of Andrea, if you know what I mean.

The only time I felt guilty doing it was the time when she took my phone from me after I gave Megan the instructions and pinned me down onto my bed. I’m not one to have a conscious, clearly, but that one time really stung.

“You wanna know something?” Andrea asked randomly as she ran her fingers along my stomach and up to my chest. “I think that after that bitch gives us the stuff, you should leave her and run away with me.”

I sat up uncomfortably and gently pushed her off me. “Andrea, she’s my girlfriend. I’m not just going to leave her.”

“But what about me?”

“We’ll still be able to see each other, but it couldn’t possibly be as often as it has been…”

“You’re making a big mistake, Ronnie! You’ll see…someday…that I’m better than her.”

We laid in silence the remainder of the night. She was wrong. Megan’s loved me since high school. I doubt she’d turn her back on me now, not after all we’ve been through…all we will be going through.