Page 6 of Never Never

“Hey, man.” No time to get acquainted, I’m afraid. I kick in my boots, flop to my stomach, and shimmy in next to him, wedging myself between his sleeping bag and the nylon wall of the tent. “What’s good?” I stick out a hand for him to shake. “Mind if I…”

He doesn’t shake. Which, you know, fair enough. We’re jammed in here like fuckin’ sardines and he doesn’t know me from Adam. He’s young too, I notice, my age or a little younger. I try again.

“Here.” I dislodge one of the stacks of cash, peel off a hundred, and slap it on the ground in front of him as I yank the zipper back in place. “Call it rent.”

He blinks in the dark. “Fucking…”

“Shhzp!”

I slap a hand over his mouth—rude, I know—and hold it firm. Outside, footsteps pound, voices shout. But just as soon, they fade. Still running, running and running like they think I am.

Even so, I don’t move. Don’t even breathe, almost. Keep my hand glued on this guy’s mouth until I’m positive they’re gone, around the corner, ancient history.

I breathe out, nice and slow. And drop him.

“Phew.” I smile, not that he can really see me. “Well, thanks. It’s been real.” I crawl back up to the flap, zip it open, and pick my way out.

So, too, does my new friend.

“Hey, what the hell?”

In the orange alleyway light, I get my first good look at him: tall, taller than me, with messy dark hair and those crazy blue eyes. Still clutching the hundred.

“Sorry about that. But, you know, much obliged.” I press my hands to my chest and bow, my heart rate still sky-high. I’m pretty clean myself, California sober except for the occasional bump, so this kind of shit is my main high. Getting away with it. “Hope that makes it worth your while.”

He stares down at the bill. “This is…”

“Yours,” I confirm. “Go nuts. Ball out.” I eyeball the tent. “Just zip back up before you nod off.”

He stiffens. “I’m not a junkie.”

I duck my head. “Ah, my mistake. I sincerely⁠—”

“Just a whore.”

I choke on the end of my sentence.

And then laugh.

“No shit?” I say.

“No shit,” he echoes. Taking him in, I guess I can see it—not my type, don’t swing that way, but he’s good-looking enough, if a little skinny—although I can tell he doesn’t care what I think.

Which I gotta say, I kind of admire.

Hmm.

I tilt my head. “What’d you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” Now he sticks out his hand. “Call me Blue.”

I shake it. “Pan. Pleasure to meet you.” I grin. “Whaddya say we find some more comfortable digs, Blue?” I fan out my winnings. “I’m paying.”

He drops my hand, considering. Looks back toward the casino. “Those guys hunting you down or something?”

Smart to ask. And good to be suspicious of anyone who bursts into your life the way I just did, especially with goons on your tail.

“Nah,” I say, swiping the air. “Just a little misunderstanding is all. Fact, I’m ninety-nine percent certain that we will never, never see that gentleman and his friends again.”