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A Firefly Story
Fate is a fickle friend. It turns its back on you, mocks you and then throws you into the impossible. I could handle the mocking, it was the rest that pushed me into situations like the one I currently found myself in. Tugging fruitlessly at the disheveled locks of hair on my head, I let out a groan of frustration and pushed off the bed, my hands instinctively reaching for my jacket as I made my way out of the house. It had been years since I'd dreamed about my mother, a feat for which I was more than grateful for. It wasn't that I had any ill memories of my mom - she was the ideal definition of the term - it was just that the onslaught of memories brought back emotions I had long since avoided. Emotions that I had no interest in experiencing.
Rummaging through my pockets, I feel my shoulders sag in relief as I pull out my pack of cigarettes. I had no intention of going back inside for my shit and didn't particularly rejoice at the thought of a three hour car ride to Seattle with only my thoughts for company tonight, but there was no way I'd be sitting here trapped in the whirlwind of my past. Lucky for me, I always kept a few joints stuffed in between the nicotine. I'd have preferred something a bit more mind numbing, but fuck it. Weed would help the anxious feeling I'd been experiencing all morning. I typically stayed away from everything else anyway, even if I did always have it on hand.
Taking up residence on the top of the stairs, I lean my back against the porch railing and grimace in distaste as the moisture from the wood seeps through my clothing. Crossing my legs at the ankles, I tilt my head back and look up at the overcast sky as I flick my lighter and inhale so deeply that it causes my eyes to water and a stinging sensation to build up in my lungs. Exhaling, I turn my head towards the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires. I wasn't expecting company, and I sure as shit wasn't expecting my father to show up anytime soon. Since my mothers death he tended to avoid me at all costs, only showing up when absolutely necessary. The majority of his time was spent in Seattle doing what he liked to call "business." I stopped questioning it years ago. As long as the man didn't cut my funds, I could care less what he spent his time doing. I had been out of school for the past week due to a minor disciplinary infraction. Suspended for five days for smoking on campus, as if being granted permission to stay home for a week was a real punishment, but I was on edge thinking he would show up for the first few days. Suffice to say he hadn't and I'd somehow avoided what would have inevitably been an argument that ended with empty threats from him and completely entitled disinterest from me.
The slamming of a car door broke me from my reverie and I focused my gaze on Mikes piece of shit truck as it sat idling in my driveway.
''Yo! E!" The scowl that appeared on my face was partially because of my dislike for the guy and partially because he had somehow gotten the idea that he could show up unannounced.
''Mike." The tone of my voice would have typically been enough to broadcast my displeasure at the situation, but Mike was oblivious as he bounced his keys in his hand and made his way over to me. "Hey man! You've been MIA for a few days and I was hoping to score a little something before Eric's party tonight."
Quirking a brow, I twirl my lighter between my fingers and pause for a moment as I consider how to reply. "And you thought you'd just stop by? What, you don't own a phone?"
Truth be told, this suspension had really cut into my profits. I rarely had people come by the house to pick shit up and didn't care too much for the concept of jumping up to meet people across town. Forks was a small place and word got around fast, not that I minded too much, but the pathetic excuse for law enforcement tended to keep a careful eye on me in public. It wasn't worth the risk. Dealing hadn't always been my thing, but I was good at it and it helped stash the money I needed. Sure, Daddy-O had plenty of cash that I could dip my fingers into, but if I was being honest with myself—and I very rarely am—there was only one thing I wanted to do in this world more than anything, and that was to say I made it out of here without a dime from that man. So I did what I needed to do. I sold what I needed to sell and only personally stuck my fingers into the bags of weed I picked up in Seattle every few weeks.
Mike was still going on about how he'd tried to call but I hadn't answered and some new kids that had the entire school talking, a story that I was in no way interested in, and finally shut his mouth just as rain drops started to fall from the sky in typical Forks fashion. Rolling my eyes, I jumped up and out of the rain with a simple "Wait here," thrown over my shoulder. The prick could stay outside and get wet. Taking my time, I weigh out his usual. Mike was into powder, a nasty habit he'd picked up after doing a few lines at a party awhile back. He was a regular, and if he didn't shell out so much cash I wouldn't have anything to do with him simply because of his sheer idiocy. The coke was definitely doing a number on his brain cells. I bagged up some extras and made my way back downstairs. If Eric was having a party, Mike wouldn't be the only one looking to score, especially since I hadn't sold to anyone in over a week. The good folks of Forks had to be running dry.
A well aimed threat to Mike about keeping his shitty excuse of a vehicle out of my driveway and a fifteen minute drive later, I pulled into the only gas station in town. Eric's parties were notoriously big around here. He has an uncle that's a cop, and a heads up or two goes a long way, so the delinquents of Forks High consider it safe to really let loose. Except for me, that is. Shoving the gas nozzle into my Volvo, I punch the fuel option and click it into place before leaving it to fill up on its own.
The fluorescent lights in the store make everything look washed out, and good 'ol Wayland behind the register looks days away from his deathbed. Maybe it's the ever present tall boy in his hand that does it instead of the lighting, but who the fuck am I to judge? Snagging a bag of chips from the shelf, I toss them down in front of him. "Marlboro Reds, Way." Wayland and I struck a deal a few years back. He sells my underaged ass cigarettes and I keep my mouth shut about the time I caught him and Harry Clearwater in a position that the nosy broads of Forks would tear to pieces. Harry's wife wouldn't even make it out unscathed. Swiping my card, I nod my thanks to Wayland and finish up at the gas pump with a mouthful of Cheetos. There was no way I was getting that shit in my car.
The drive to Seattle is a monotonous one and even my iPod can't stop the remnants of my dream from swirling around my memory like a venomous fog. By the time I pull into Janes driveway, I'm aggravated and fidgety. Exhaling out of my nose, I rake my hand through my hair as I make my way around back, seriously reconsidering my "No Smoking" rule for the Volvo. Janes place caters to a fuckload of people I'd rather not run into, but thankfully nobody seems to be around today. A sharp meow makes her cat known, and I chuckle as she jumps down from her perch and rubs up against my leg. Bending down, I scoop the furball up and knock twice. Janes pretty strict about using her back door instead of the front; She's convinced that the amount of traffic her house receives is less noticeable that way. I'm not sure I agree, but again, that's not my shit to worry about and its worked fine for her so far.
The door opens to reveal bloodshot eyes, and I wince as Gianna's head comes into view seconds before her voice screeches out. "Eddie! Oh, I didn't know you were coming by."
The girl could never take no for an answer, and even though Jane uses her for a runner and she's rarely here, I never stay long when she is. It's smart on Janes part to have someone overly loyal that'll hand deliver drugs to people she doesn't trust enough with her address, but Gianna's been after my dick since I started this shit. A swipe of claws brings my attention back to the wad of black fur in my arms and I give Salem an apologetic scratch as I push past Gianna and her fluttering lashes. The cat didn't like her either. Janes sitting cross legged in her usual spot on the couch, and she looks up and laughs when she sees me. She knows exactly how I feel about her minion. Taking up residence next to her, Salem jumps out of my lap and curls up on top of the couch behind my head.
"That cat never leaves your side when you're here. Goddamn pussy magnet. Hey, Gianna. I've got a run for you." Tossing her a bag, Jane glances at me before continuing. "James is at his usual place. It's four hundred, and spreading your legs for him doesn't earn him a discount. Got it?" Smirking, I keep my mouth shut as Gianna bites her lip, glances at me and leaves without a word.
I wait until the door shuts behind her before turning to look at her. "James? Really, Jane? That asshole is nothing but trouble." Laughing, Jane reaches for the bong on the table and takes a hit before offering it to me. A long exhale has her speaking over the bubbles as I take my share. "Trouble whose daddy has a lot of money. He doesn't come here, and Gianna doesn't complain." Coughing a laugh, I shake my head. "That's disgusting. One of these days I'm going to tell her I'm fucking you. That might get her off of my shit." Snorting, Jane sets the bong aside. She knows two hits is my limit when I have to drive. "If she didn't see me fucking Chelsea this morning she might believe you. Speaking of daddies, your pops came by this morning." Gritting my teeth, I turn my head to look at her and work to keep the glare off of my face.
I knew Jane bought her shit off of Carlisle, but I didn't like to hear about it. When I first showed up at her door, she couldn't understand why I didn't just get my supply from him directly, but over time she came to believe me when I said I didn't want anything to do with the man. "He was asking about you." A dry, humorless laugh leaves my throat and I reach for my wallet. Pulling out the required amount of money, I drop it onto the coffee table. "Carlisle knows where to find me if he has questions. I'll take my usual, Jane. Double the Adderall and Ex." We're both silent as she weighs out my purchase, the mere mention of my father sucking the carefree nature out of the room. Standing to leave, I give Salem a parting scratch and I'm almost to the door when Jane calls out to me. "Edward?" Stopping, I turn my head to look over my shoulder. "I didn't tell him anything. You know I wouldn't, but he sounded like he was planning something. Something that has to do with you. Just keep your eyes open, alright?" Sighing, my shoulders slump as I nod. "Yeah, Jane. Thanks for the heads up. I'll catch you next time."
Pushing the door open, I let it shut behind me and pull out a cigarette. The sun went down while Jane and I were talking, and the flick of my lighter is enough to illuminate my face as I walk. Throwing my bag from Jane onto the passenger seat, I lean against my car until my hands stop shaking. I'm not afraid of my father, even if he is directly responsible for my mother's death. I don't think he has it in him to hurt me, but I knew there would come a day that he'd want more from me. Expect more from me. Hell, before mom died I'd grown up preparing for it. By the time I get into my car there's three cigarette butts lying in Janes driveway from yours truly and a glance at the clock tells me I'll be late to Eric's party. Reaching under the seat, I feel around until my hand comes into contact with cool metal. I don't pull it out, but knowing that my gun is where I left it calms my nerves enough that I put my car into reverse and speed back towards Forks.
Come hell or high water, I was ready for whatever my father was planning, but I wasn't going to worry about it until I had to.