“You scare the shit out of him,” he says, laughing under his breath.
“That’s the point.”
We head toward the car, parked three blocks away in a spot that doesn’t have cameras. The night settles around us like a second skin, familiar and cold. Oxy’s still talking—something about campus rich kids buying confidence in bags, about the freshman parties starting up, about how easy it is to move product when everyone’s too drunk to think straight.
I’m only half-listening.
My pocket vibrates again.
Once. Twice. Three times.
I ignore it the first two. But the third time, I pull out Axel’s phone and glance at the screen.
Lexi:I can’t believe you’re doing this. You promised!
Lexi:I just got here and you can’t even bother to show up?
Oxy leans over my shoulder, smirks when he sees the name. “Girlfriend?”
“Needy slut.”
The word comes out flat, disinterested. I lock the screen, slip the phone back into my pocket.
We reach the car—a black Charger, nothing flashy but enough muscle under the hood to get us out of any situation we need to. I unlock it, slide into the driver’s seat. Oxy climbs in on the passenger side, already lighting another cigarette.
I pull out my own pack, light one, and crack the window. Smoke curls out into the night. I take a long drag, feel the nicotine settle into my bloodstream. My shoulders relax. My mind clears.
I already know where I’m going next. Already know who owes, who’s late, who needs a reminder.
I check my phone. Three texts from runners. One missed call from a number I don’t recognize. I ignore them all.
Money never sleeps.
And neither do I.
I start the engine, let it rumble to life. The bass vibrates through the seat. I pull out of the parking spot, headlights cutting through the dark, and drive toward the next collection.
The night is young.
And I’ve got work to do.
4
Lexi
The cafeteria’s packed—families clustering around tables with paper plates piled high, parents snapping photos, freshmen laughing too loud to cover their nerves. I wish I could have a functional family, but that dream left me years ago. Thea doesn’t have the same story as me, but she doesn’t have her family, so we stick together. We are each other’s family now. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting everything in that harsh white glow that makes everyone look slightly sick.
Thea and I claim a corner table near the windows, away from the chaos. She’s already demolished half a burger, ketchup smeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Is your roommate weird?” she asks, wiping her face with a napkin.
I stab at my salad. “Scarlett? She’s... fine. Just really quiet. Like, unnaturally quiet. She organized her entire side of the room by color.”
Thea snorts. “Color? Like a fucking rainbow?”
“No, like... beige to white. It’s depressing.”
“Jesus.” She shakes her head, takes another bite. “Mine won’t shut up. Constant TikToks. Constant boy drama. She’s already crying over some guy from her high school who ‘doesn’t text back fast enough.’“ She does air quotes with her fingers. “I’m gonna lose my mind.”
