Annabeth

Just as I get close to finishing the paper I'm working on, my phone starts vibrating on the desk beside me. One new text from an unknown number.

Shit. I always dread getting texts on my phone considering only two people know it. And fucking telemarketers.

"Annie, there is something for you at my chinese restaurant tonight at 10. Can't wait to see you."

No. This is way too close to the last time. If I keep doing drops this close together, I'm going to get caught.

I lean back in my rolly desk chair that I picked up from some alley a while back. It's incredibly uncomfortable to sit on when I'm wearing shorts due to the numerous rips in the faux leather. I use my feet to spin it around, slowly at first then getting faster and faster. The room blurs. I wonder if I go fast enough if I could puke. I don't remember the last time I got sick. As I spin I get glimpses of my room. I try to own the least amount of possessions possible in case I need to pack up and move quick. The only thing that holds any importance to me is my desk. There is a little window above the desk that during the day offers a little square of light into my room. My apartment consists of one medium sized room and a small grungy bathroom that no matter how hard I try, will not look remotely clean. I have a queen size mattress lying on the floor with a few blankets thrown over it. above me is a crappy little bar that I steal my wifi and food from every once in awhile. The grouchy old man who owns the bar, and I have a deal- I supply him, and he lets me crash here.

I have two hours until I have to get going. I turn back to my pride and joy- my macbook, and continue working on my architecture paper.

At 9pm I get up from my term report paper that I am working on. I reach into my desk drawer and pull out my hand gun. Better safe than sorry. I pull on my regular black attire and as I am exiting my place I glance at myself in the mirror. With my brown wig on, I barely recognize myself. Normally I have long blond hair that is almost always in a ponytail.

From the bar upstairs I hear, the clink of glasses and chairs being dragged across the cheap flooring. My apartment is at the end of a hallway. To the side of me are a supply room and the owner's office. The stairs at the end of the hallway are horribly light and creaky. They lead to the back of the kitchen. I push through the shitty screen door, and past a bunch of dumpsters.

I stay in the alleys, staying out of view of the main streets. There are a few homeless here and there, but I avoid them and they leave me alone.

After a few blocks, I stop behind a dumpster, reaching my hand into the little hole, that is well hidden. Even if someone moved the dumpster, they would be able to notice the little hole.

My fingers brush against a plastic bag; I pull it out. It's a safeway shopping bag. I inhale deeply when I inspect the contents. A variety. Caught with anyone of these larger, clear plastic pouches could get me locked up faster than I could say drugs and put away for a long time. I always thought that it would get easier, that I would get used to having such a large target on my back, but it doesn't.

Tucking the bag under my arm behind the black purse I'm carrying, I take off onto the sidewalk full of night crawlers. I love nights like this: the air is warm and still and there is a bit of cloud cover, but the moon still shines through. I pass many restaurants filled with couples and groups of people having fun. I wish that I could join them. Across the street I see Kimie's chinese cuisine. I run across the street as soon as there is a break in the endless sea of taxis, ducking into the alley behind the restaurant. White fluorescent light shines from the back of the restaurant highlighting the shadows. I never know who teh dealers will send to pick up the packages. Some I like better than others. I see his tall, straight shadow, and I immediately know who it is this time.

"Jace," I whisper once I'm also hidden in the shadows.

"Hey hot thang." I hear him slur as he materialises beside me. He may sound drunk and care free, but I know that that is far from the truth. Jace does very well on the drug scene in New York and he is one of the most cautious. He's never been caught. If he's here, I know it's safe.

"Here's your package." I had it to him. He eagerly snatches it up and shoves it into a black gym bag.

"Want to come meet us at the bar later. I have some friends who I think you might be interested in. After all you are one of the best in the field right now" I just raise my eyebrows at him. I have been in this business since I was 12. Six years later and I still have never taken up anyone on an offer like that. Expect for that one time, I will never make that mistake knows something bad went down, so I don't know why he bothers to ask. And he is right that I am the best right now. I have never been caught and though there has been some close calls, I always managed to escape.

"As always, pleasure doing business with you." he presses two envelopes into my hand. We freeze as a plate crashes in the kitchen. One for me and one for Chiron.

"Leave the one for Chiron in that alcove and tell him I say 'hi'" I just nod, turn on my heel and get back to my place.