Brick: Last Hit
Note: The following fics are based on characters from 'Brick,' created by Rian Johnson.
In a motel room, Tug wrapped a chalk white block in plastic wrap. Powdery residue stained his digits. He licked them. It tasted bitter, but strong. The aftertaste left a stinging sensation on his tongue. He reached for some twine and aluminum foil, adding another layer to the block.
Ring! Ring!
The doorbell startled him. He got up from his chair and crept quietly to the door. He reached into his waistband for his revolver. Peering into the keyhole, he saw a cloaked figure. Blonde strands and a glint of a hazel eye peeked from the hood. He opened the door.
"What you doin' here?" It was Em.
"Will you let me in?"
"You shouldn't be here?"
"Says who?" She entered, much to his dismay. He closed the door.
She leaned over to his face and kissed him on the lips. He accepted her gesture, planting her tongue into her mouth.
"Brendan won't like this."
"He doesn't know 'bout us."
"Nice package you got there." She looked at the table. "A gift for me?"
"That's for a client."
"Can it be for me?"
"No way, doll. It's business, not play."
"Can't we bend the rules once in a while?" she begged.
"Not this time. Boss got steamed before. Can't afford that."
Em sighed. Tug mentioned he had some joints to cure her insatiable fix. She complied.
After toking away, the two enjoyed each other's company in the bedroom. The scene was filled with intoxicated passion and elevated euphoria. Em felt at ease with him. She'd never experienced this with B. He was good to her, though, but she wanted to be with someone unlike him.
Tug had his share of flings, but Em was different. He might have been a lackey, but he knew when he was being played. With Em, he didn't mind. There was something about her he liked. It's no wonder Brendan liked her, he thought.
Em's face lied on Tug's chest. His arm wrapped around her waist.
"When's the delivery?"
"Wha--" He was a bit dazed from the weed. She repeated the question. "Tomorrow."
"What do I have to do to take a hit?"
"Girl, you got it real bad, don't cha?"
She tickled his ribs. He squirmed, chuckling uncontrollably.
"What can I say, it's a crave."
She slipped her hand into his jeans. Before she could do aything, Tug took it away.
"Shouldn't be doin' this." He unwrapped the block and sliced a flat wedge with his blade. He offered it to her.
"Boss'll get steamed at me."
"Don't worry about it, babe. He won't even know." She licked the powder off his fingers.