I reach into my jacket, pull out a small bag of white powder, and hold it out to her.
She stares at it. Then shakes her head.
“You wanted in?” I say, my voice flat. “You take it.”
She hesitates, then grabs the bag and shoves it into her pocket.
I laugh. Can’t help it.
She watches me, eyebrows drawing together. “What’s funny?”
“I didn’t mean put it in your fucking pocket.” I’m still grinning. “Pull it out and sniff a line.”
Her face hardens. She pulls the bag out and thrusts it back at me. “No.”
My jaw ticks. I stare at her, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to handle someone this defiant. Most girls would’ve giggled and listened. Would’ve proven they’re serious, that they’ll do whatever it takes to free their drug addict brother.
But not her.
“Get out,” I say.
She blinks. “Are you serious?”
“We’re done here.”
“What the hell—” She shakes her head. “No.”
I get out of the car, walk around to her side, and yank open her door. “Don’t make me force you.”
She glares up at me. “So I don’t rail a couple lines and you’re throwing me out?”
I nod.
She stands, tries to meet my height. Fails. She’s tiny compared to me. “So I don’t take your little drugs and now you can’t take advantage of me, and you’re throwing a fit?”
I lean down, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. “If I wanted to take advantage of you, you would know. If you don’t want to follow my rules, then we’re done here.”
“You can’t be fucking serious. I don’t do drugs.”
“Stop wasting my fucking time.”
She grabs my arm. Her hand is small, fingers barely wrapping around my forearm. I look down at her.
“I want my brother out of your business.”
“It’s none of your fucking business what your brother’s up to.” I pull her out of the way, shut the car door. Start walking back to the driver’s side.
Before I can get in, she opens the passenger door.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“I’ll do it. You go first.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Then tell me how it works.”
“You want your brother out of the business?”
