Devil

Nebraska wasn't as stupid as she was acting. Dancing with Danny had given her electric chills, and she wanted more, needed more, but wasn't going to get it. For both of their sakes, she wasn't going to get it.

She meandered around the city for three weeks, but somehow managed to make nearly £11,000 just by keeping a low radar. There had been talks that she had been arrested. But that was the way that it goes; whenever someone hadn't been seen for a while, they were either dead or arrested. At least she was alive, this time.

By the third week, she was restless. She'd have sold to anyone, so long as she was selling. Spent, she called the only person she could think of.

"Glad you've called. Be downtown in three."

"I'm already downtown."

He'd hung up.

It took him two minutes to find her in the crowd.

"Well if it isn't Nebraska Jones." She smirked, refusing to give him the benefit of begging for a job.

"So they call me."

He came around from behind her. He'd gotten taller since they'd last seen each other, about a year or so. Nebraska wasn't tall, really, and came up to roughly his chest. She wished she'd worn taller heels.

"Is the little one not treating you right?"

"Thought I could do for a change of scenery."

"Not that much of a change."

"You know what I mean."

He smiled, his perfectly white teeth shining in the rare sun. The two of them were dressed nearly similarly, her in a white and black corset, and him in a black shirt with a white tie. He looked immaculate, as always, and she felt calmed by his presence.

"Well, you're lucky I've got a job for you."

"You're the one to call, Charlie."

"Tank, please."

"Sorry, I wasn't aware we were in a Guy Ritchie film."

He laughed, heartily, bending down. To a normal passerby, it looked like he was just laughing. But he was really slipping an address into her coat pocket. Though the Kid handled all of his merchandise, Charlie did deliveries. They cost more, and the runners got most of the profits. Nebraska didn't like to do it because it involved too much moving. Today, she was making an exception.

"It's always good to see you, Jones."

"You too, Tank."

They separated, looking like two old friends that had just run into each other. She headed for the storage cellar, a small flat over a liquor shop, about two miles away.

She was happy to find it empty. Looking at the little sheet for the first time, she signed out four bottles, marking down "Tank's" estimated price of sale. With a little bit of persuading, people sometimes gave more as a tip. Everyone benefitted from that. She also took a car, parked in an alley behind the flat. Though the address wasn't too far away from the city, walking to Acton would have been ridiculous.

It was there that she first heard it.

"She tastes like Cherry Cola." The track was repetitive and not her taste at all. She hoped it was for someone else.

She'd suspected, of course. According to other girls, he'd been around a lot, buying almost every time. Save for the footballers and the occasional businessman, no one had that kind of money. Or at least, no DJ's. He'd obviously had some sort of suppliment. Or vice versa.

And naturally, he had a girlfriend. Some former Miss England. Pretty typical.

Before she knew it, Nebraska was pushing 60 on the A40. Luckily she wasn't stopped, and slowed down just in time to not miss her exit.

She found her way to the address with little difficulty. Checking in her rearview mirror to make sure her burgundy lipstick was perfect, she got out of the car.

Within two minutes, the door to the large cream house opened, and Nebraska walked inside, to an incredibly nice contemporary home. She barely noticed the person who'd opened the door, she was so consumed with taking it in. Perhaps she should work with Charlie more often.

"Like what you see?" She turned around to notice the buyer standing behind her. She was gorgeous. Her auburn hair hung just past her shoulders, accentuating the neckline on her one-shoulder teal dress.

"I suppose I can't deny it, now."

"Well, it does try." Nebraska smirked. "I haven't got the money."

"That might be problematic."

"I can get it."

Nebraska didn't respond, and was looking around at the house again.

"Do you want a drink?" the woman asked as she stepped towards the kitchen.

"If you poison me, you'll still have to pay."

The woman let out a dry laugh, pouring two glasses of vodka.

"Why would I waste poison on good vodka?" With that, she downed hers in one sip, quickly refilling it as she walked back to where Nebraska was standing.

She took a couple of sips, but was too anxious for more. This deal felt off. Not that she would accuse Charlie, but it felt like a trap of some kind.

"Do you always make the messenger wait?"

"Only the cute ones, and they never mind."

"I'm flattered."

She let out another dry laugh.

"So how does a girl like you know Tank?"

"Already? I don't even know your name."

"I'm Evelyn."

The door opened behind them, and a dapper man in all black walked in.
He handed Evelyn some folded bills, and walked into the house, saying nothing to either of them.

"I told you I could get it." She handed all of the money to Nebraska, who counted out £9500, then put it in her coat pocket.

She handed the four water bottles to Evelyn, and walked to the door, ready to get out of that beautiful house.

Evelyn stood behind her, pulling open the door.

"Come again, Sugar," she said, opening a water bottle and taking a sip. She winked at Nebraska, who walked back to her car, pretending not to notice.

Evelyn had been gorgeous, obviously, but Nebraska couldn't seem to flirt back. She didn't want to admit it, but the banter had felt empty without a goofy grin attached to it. She couldn't feel any sincerity behind it.

Sighing, she pulled away from the curb, and headed back to the flat. This time, she made sure to take her money, despite thinking about Danny for the whole trip.