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OMG thank you for being so patient....this weekend/Monday have been from HELL.

here it is...new chapter. happy reading!
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Close Calls

He races back across town, running every yellow light, never staying under the speed limit, not even caring about the drugs in his car or the fact that his gun is under his seat, either of which could land him in jail. He doesn't think about the laws, even though he knows he's breaking them. He's not even mad about Trent…whipping his ass hasn't even crossed his mind.

No, he's furious…

at me.

Me, the one who almost fuckin cried on him just last night at the mere suspicion of him being with another girl…where the fuck do I get off turning right around and doing some shit like this? To him, this isn't just going after another guy…this is getting my business elsewhere.

This is me trying to show him that I don't need him.

But as he gets closer and closer, anger isn't the emotion eating away at his insides. No, it's fear. He doesn't trust anyone but himself…not when it comes to drugs, and especially not when it comes to me.

He can see it in his mind…me taking some bad shit from another dealer, trippin out in an alley somewhere with no one around who gives a fuck. Lying there til morning before I wake up…or don't wake up. Shit.

He presses the gas pedal harder.

-- -- -- -- --

I step behind the small corner store and into the narrow alley slowly, cautiously. It's fucking filthy back here, large dumpsters full of black plastic bags stand pushed up against the outside of each building, creating a maze of sorts as I weave in and out of them in the darkness, only a single streetlight illuminating my path. He's standing there under it, head down, beanie pulled tight over his hair, his entire form a shadow underneath the angle of the streetlight. I quicken my steps to approach him. As much as I have a point to prove, I still want to get this over with quickly.

But as I stop in front of him he keeps his head down, not moving a muscle, not meeting my gaze, his features shadowed by the light beaming directly down over him. I fidget a little in discomfort. God I'm uncomfortable in my own fucking skin right now, because this just isn't like me. But it's sort of thrilling in a sick way, the whole thing. Coming here behind Justin's back, but telling one of his boys. Waving that shit right there under his nose.

That dull surge of guilt creeps up again, fuck, I've been forcing it down all night because I've convinced myself that he deserves this. He deserves this shit. I wait for Trent to notice me standing before him, I clear my throat and tap my foot anxiously, and after a tense minute he snaps his head up to fix his gaze on me. I nearly jump out of my skin, gasping loudly when his blue eyes meet mine. Holy…

"Weren't expecting to see my ass here, huh?" The voice is all too familiar.

Justin.

"What are you doing here?" I gasp, my gaze darting all around confusedly. What the fuck is going on?

"I should ask you the same fuckin thing!" he growls, fire igniting behind his blue eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Justin!? Where's Trent?" I'm still looking around frantically. How did he manage to pull one over on me like this?

"I fuckin killed him. Drug his body off down the alley. Someone will probably find him the next time they take trash to the dumpster." He sneers, and I slowly turn my face back to his, my eyes searching him.

"You're fucking lying…" I say it matter-of-factly as I eye him, but a hint of inquiry paints my tone. At least I hope he's lying.

"Of course I'm fucking lying! I paid his ass off and sent him home," he snaps, "but what the fuck, L!? You don't get your shit from anyone but me…how can you be so fucking stupid…" he trails, but I bite at his statement, answering immediately.

"You don't fuckin own me, ok! I don't need you! I can fucking survive without you!"

He scoffs. "So that's it then? You're done with me? Five fuckin years, I turn around and you're done after some shit like last night?! You don't make any fuckin sense…" he shakes his head, turning to walk away from me.

"I've never made a fuckin promise to you!" I spat once his back it to me, and he freezes.

He whirls around, rage painting his face as he presses my shoulders until my back thuds against the brick of the wall, his face inches from mine. "But I'm yours and you're fuckin mine, and goddammit that's the way it's always been! You want a fuckin ring now or some shit? Fuck!"

I wait a beat before answering slowly, deliberately. "I don't want a goddamn thing from you…"

He releases my shoulders, hands falling to his sides as he steps back, eyeing me curiously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

I groan softly. "It means I don't fucking know how much more of this bullshit I can take, J! We're fast approaching the pinnacle of…" I sigh, struggling to even find a word in the fucking English language to describe this goddamn mess we're in, "…fucked-up-ness, if there is such a thing…"

"Yeah, pull that scholar shit on me, L…" he mutters sarcastically, turning away again.

I raise my voice to him. "Well I'm not using it anywhere else! Not after I fucking drained my college fund for some grass and blow!"

He spins around abruptly, firing his words at me with intent. "Don't pin that shit on me! I didn't shove that shit up your fucking nose! I don't remember holding a fucking gun to your head!"

"No…you hold it to my fucking heart." I say it almost flatly, without hesitation and his face melds from one of anger to one of interest. I sigh, gathering my thoughts and lowering my voice before I continue. "I can't say no to you, J. And I'm never gonna get clean if I can't say no. Maybe if I have to get my shit somewhere else…I won't want it anymore. I'm sick and fucking tired of this shit."

He slides his jaw sideways, tongue playing inside of his mouth in contemplation, clicking against his teeth before he blinks once and shakes his head, letting my words roll right off of him. "That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. What's your fuckin obsession with getting clean now? You watch some shit on Oprah or something?" he tosses the words around easily and frustration swims inside of me.

"Fuck you! I've wanted to get clean for a long fucking time, I keep telling you that shit, you just never fuckin listen to a single word I say unless we're fighting or I'm screaming your name in bed. I can't do this anymore Justin! I don't wanna be dead on the streets or rotting in fuckin prison."

"Ok, fuck!" he shouts, trying to shut me up, brow furrowing as he throws his hands up. "…so you're done with the drugs…but what about me?" his hands hit his thighs as he drops his lanky arms in frustration.

"What about you?" I scoff, twisting my face in disbelief. Of course he's always playing the victim.

"I'm your fuckin dealer! You don't need me for shit now, right?…" he steps close to me, my back still against the wall, but despite his close proximity, he doesn't lower his voice. "I mean you're sneakin off getting drugs behind my back…who knows what else you're getting on the side."

"Surely you didn't just fucking say that…" I answer, pushing on his chest.

He closes the space between us again, eyes locked with mine. "Yeah…I fuckin did."

My hands are still pressed to his chest, but I'm not pushing against him anymore. "And you think that's all you are to me!? My fucking dealer?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"I don't see why I shouldn't think that now. I mean, you're mad at me, right? This is about revenge and shit? And you just threw that shit in my face about not making any fuckin promises to me! How do I know you don't just go off and get some dick behind my back…isn't that how the game is played?" He growls, hands braced against the wall and he pushes his body against mine roughly, forcing out my breath from deep in my chest. I groan a bit as my elbows hit against the rough brick behind me when his weight presses against my hands.

I swallow hard. "I don't play fuckin games," my eyes meet his again, "…not with you."

"Well you better fuckin not…" he pushes against me roughly another time, hips holding mine against the wall, pinning me there. "Cause I don't care where you get drugs…but you're not gettin dick anywhere else. This pussy is mine." He barks authoritatively, his voice still loud and harsh in my face, his eyes hard and cold staring into mine.

But he pauses for a moment, panting slowly as I look back at him with a questioning gaze. This isn't just anger building inside of him. He's insecure. He's staking his claim on me. I can read him like a book, and his eyes soften under my intense stare before he puts his nose to my cheek, his breath warm on my face and I'm suddenly 21 again, back in that old house at Felix's party, pressed against the hallway wall.

"Tell me it's mine, L." He whispers, pleads, his voice almost shaking, and I know this isn't a fight about me calling up Trent for drugs, not anymore.

I feel his lashes brush my cheek as he blinks slowly and I sigh, taking his face in my hands and pulling it back to mine as I slowly hook one leg over his hip, the denim of my skirt bunching around my hips. "It's fuckin yours, J."

His eyes harden again and he crushes my mouth with his, kissing me hard, almost painfully, bruising my lips with his own. I whimper at the urgency of his mouth, the speed of his tongue against mine. Frantic. Desperate. He rips his mouth away suddenly, pressing his forehead to my own. "God I'm just so fuckin mad at you…what were you thinking, getting your shit from someone else?" he grabs my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "You know my shit is the only shit you like."

He smirks, one hand leaving my shoulder to trail down over my body before sliding up my thigh, my leg still hooked around his waist. His fingers disappear beneath my skirt as he whispers harshly against my ear. "Just like my dick is the only dick you like, isn't it girl?" and before I can answer I feel two of his fingers delve into my center impatiently.

I gasp, whining a bit as he works me roughly right away, unapologetically fucking me with his hand. He grits his teeth, snarling as he locks his eyes with mine. "Tell me you only want my dick." I just groan in response, twisting up my face, fisting the fabric of his shirt, clutching it at his shoulders to steady myself as his fingers continue moving in and out vigorously.

"Say 'J, I only want your dick in my pussy'…say it." He growls against my ear and I bite my lip almost until it bleeds.

"A little insecure?" my voice is strangled in my throat, but I grin at him lazily as he pulls back to look at me with fire in his eyes.

"Say. It." He commands, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched. I release my head with a suppressed moan when I feel his fingers pull out suddenly and I had previously been so caught up in the feeling of his fingers inside of me that I had failed to even notice him working to undo his pants with his other hand. But I gasp suddenly when I feel him guide the head of his cock to rest against my entrance, rubbing against it teasingly. "I feel how wet you are…I know that's not for any-fuckin-body else…that shit is for me."

"Justin-"

"Say it." He cuts me off dryly and I lower my eyes to his slowly, panting. I start to open my mouth, but when I don't respond right away he thrusts into me with a grunt, pounding deep into me so hard I'm surprised my eyes don't explode out of their fucking sockets.

"FUCK!" I release my head again, hitting it so hard against the concrete I'm sure it splits my skull. He chuckles softly.

"You know nobody else can fuck that pussy like I can. You only want it from me, huh?" he slams into me twice more, knocking my breath out with each crash of our hips. "Tell me you want it." He pants against my cheek, holding himself deep inside of me, gripping my hips brutally and god how in the fuck does he expect me to speak right now?

"J…" I try to breathe enough to answer him but he doesn't give me any time, pulling out and drilling me hard and deep again, over and over, fucking the shit out of me, grinding my lower back into the hard cold brick of the wall. Fuck, I know that shit is gonna bruise.

I let my weight slump over him in defeat, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and just holding on for dear life. I feel like he might fuck me to death, right here in this dirty alley. But what a fucking way to go.

"I don't hear you, L. Tell me you fucking want it." He stops again, pulling my other leg up around his waist, pressing even deeper into me and I groan loud and long, the sound muffled in his shoulder. There is silence in the alley except for our panting breaths. A siren wails in the distance, and I finally lift my head out of his shoulder.

"I want it." I sigh weakly, and he instantly resumes his work on me, our bodies slapping together fiercely, relentlessly.

"You only…want this shit…from me?" he grunts between thrusts, pushing deeper and deeper, faster and faster, and the sensations of pleasure swallow me quickly, washing over me in wave after dull wave, building and building.

"Yes…god, yes…Fuck!" I shriek, body writhing against his, clutching him, grabbing at him as he drives into me mercilessly, pulling at my orgasm, drawing it slowly from the depths of my body, my fingers and toes, deep in my core, luring it out bit by bit. I curl and curl around his body, my insides sucking at his throbbing dick as it plows into me over and over, my legs tightening around his waist, arms squeezing around his shoulders until I'm shaking with fatigue, waiting and waiting for my release until it hits me at once, forcing a strained sob from deep in my chest before knocking the breath from my lungs.

I feel him lose it just second behind me, almost instantaneously, plunging into me twice more, maybe three times, and shooting thick and hot inside of me until he has nothing left. His weight falls forward against me, trapping me against the wall, breathing so hard, both of us breathing hard. Jesus you'd think we were having simultaneous heart attacks.

"Don't…ever…" he trails, unable to catch his breath enough to make a complete thought. But I just answer back immediately, already knowing what he wants to say.

"I won't…I won't, J."

-- -- -- -- --

{Looking back on it, this day was a pretty fucked up day. Probably one of the worst days we ever had.}

"Hey!....Hey, get up!" he's shaking me harshly, pulling me from a deep sleep, and I'm not happy about it. My eyes open slowly and he's standing next to the bed, leaning over me, fully dressed. "Get up!"

"What the fuck is your problem?" I groan and roll over, dragging the covers over me, but he snatches them back, exposing my naked form.

"You need to go…I have business to handle and I'm not fuckin leavin you here alone while I'm gone. Get up!" He trudges into the living room and I hear him rooting around through his things.

"Why can't I just go with you?" I groan and roll around in his bed a bit. I fucking love his bed.

"Because I fuckin said so. Get the fuck up and go home. I have business to handle," he shouts from the living room, and I roll my eyes.

"I don't wanna go home." I sit up, slowly rubbing my eyes, and he stomps back into the bedroom, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his freshly buzzed hair.

"Bitch, are you fucking serious right now? I have to meet Thomas in thirty minutes, and if I'm late, I'm gonna be dead, and on my headstone I'm gonna get them to put 'the bitch wouldn't get out of my bed'. Now get the fuck up!"

"I wanna go with you." I narrow my eyes at him and he scoffs, shaking his head.

"Fuck no, you're not going with me to see Thomas."

"Why?"

"…because I could fuckin die today, and I don't want you to witness that." He says it very matter-of-factly, and then I realize he's being serious.

"Seriously?"

He sighs, pushing his palm to his forehead, scratching at his hairline, his short nails scraping over the bristles of his closely-shaved head. "Bruce called me this morning and said Thomas has been frontin dealers all over the area for powder, you know, tryin to get deeper into the shit. Not like he doesn't have enough bank from that weed down in Mexico. Anyway, he went to collect and he got some bathtub shit from a guy out in Ojai, and the motherfucker told Thomas that the shit came from me." My chest tightens. This is what Thomas was warning me about. Tell that motherfucker to stay out of my coke deals.

He continues despite the fact that I'm becoming lost in my thoughts, "how fucked up is that? How is my shit gonna run all the way to Ojai? And Thomas knows everything I run is pure! So anyway, Thomas has been runnin his mouth all over town about how I set him up cause I knew he was tryin to get his hands on some blow. Well, I called that motherfucker and told him how shit was, and he got fuckin worked up about it-"

"-so why are you going to see him if he's fuckin mad enough to kill you?" I cut him off, and he hesitates, biting at his bottom lip.

"…he said if I didn't find him, he would find me."

And in the drug business, that's a statement that you don't take lightly.

I'm silent for a moment. This can't be happening. "Fuck that. I'm going."

"You're not going." But I immediately spring up out of the bed and start pulling my clothes on. "You're not fucking going!"

I pull my shoes on quickly and head out the front door before he can stop me, but he's right behind me, slamming the door on his way out of the house, and I keep walking to the passenger's side of his truck. I jerk on the handle, "unlock the fucking door."

"You better just keep your ass walking right down that street, and go home. I'll call you as soon as I get back, but I can't have you fuckin around while I'm handling business."

"You're not handling business, you're tryin to get yourself fuckin killed."

"Oh so you wanna die too, now? You're a fuckin piece of work-"

"-open the goddamned door!" I scream at him across the hood of the truck, and he glares at me for a long moment, jaw clenched, fighting the urge to do it, but he finally surrenders with a sigh, clicking the 'unlock' push-button on his keys before we both open our doors, climbing into our respective seats.

"I can't fuckin believe you," he mumbles as he slams his door and slips the key into the ignition, shaking his head.

"Just drive."

We cruise down the 110 and cut over on Slauson into Windsor Hills…and I'm fucking terrified. Justin never runs business down on this side of L.A., but I know that Thomas has loyalties here, which is probably why he set up the meet in this part of town. If shit got out of hand, neither Justin or myself would ever be found, and Thomas' tracks would be completely covered.

I glance over at Justin, and his jaw is locked, hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, but his eyes are soft. His eyes are always soft. I pull my knees to my chest and sink into my seat as we approach the intersection and he pulls into the empty parking lot. "Oh no bitch, don't get scared now, you fucking had to come with me, remember."

I exhale loudly as he turns the truck off, my insides are trembling, and I jump when his hand touches my face. I'm fucking petrified. "You need to stay in the truck, ok?" and his voice is soft. Almost too soft, which frightens me even more. I never have to worry about Justin very much when he's wild and aggressive; but when he's calm and quiet, I know he's really trying to get to me on a deeper level. He knows I'm scared, and I think he's really scared, too. "L…hey, look at me."

I don't want to look at him because I'm afraid to see the look in his eyes. If he has fear in his eyes, I'll lose it. I'll completely fucking lose it, because I'm so used to him being a hardass and standing up for me and always getting his way and never being afraid. "Hey…L, look at me. Leala…" I panic inside when he says my real name, it's like when your parents call you by your first and middle name when you're in trouble. But I know it's him that's in trouble, not me.

He turns my face gently with his fingertips, "you need to stay here, ok? You need to stay in the truck and lay down in the backseat," and tears sting my eyes because he's speaking slow and soft, looking at me with intent, and I know he's afraid. I shake my head slowly and he can tell I'm on the brink of crying, "don't do this…don't fucking do this to me, ok? You have to stay here, cause you can get me into a lot of fucking trouble. You have to do this for me. You have to stay here, and I'm gonna walk right across the street over between those two buildings, and I'll be back, but you have to stay here. And if anything happens…you have to go. You have to go, ok? Do not get out of this truck. I don't care what you see and I don't care what you hear…"

I squeeze my eyes shut tight and feel wetness slip down my cheeks, because when he says "I don't care what you hear," I know he's talking about gunshots, and it suddenly hits me. He could die. He could get killed right now while I'm here in this truck waiting for him to come back. This could be the last time I see him.

He sighs and takes my face in his hands, "don't do this to me. Don't sit here and wail like I'm not comin back. I'm comin back, ok? C'mere…" and he presses his mouth to mine gently. I clutch his shoulders and fist his tshirt into my hands, holding him close to me over the center console of the truck. God I don't want him to go. "You're my girl, right?...right?" he smiles a little, and I nod against his cheek, but he pulls back to look into my face, "say it."

I grip his shirt tighter, drawing him back to me, and kiss his mouth again. I say the words as I pull back.

"I'm your girl."

He nods at me, smoothing a hand over my hair, "get in the backseat."

"I wanna watch you til I can't see you anymore," and he sighs, but he knows I'm scared and he's gonna have to let me do things my way.

"Ok."

He pulls the keys from the ignition and stares at them in his open palm before extending them to me without a word. I take them in trembling fingers, gripping them tight, and he opens the door and slides out of his seat. When his sneakers hit the concrete he turns back into the truck, leaning over the seat as he reaches underneath, removing his gun. I swallow hard as he checks the round before tucking it into the waistband of his jeans, pulling his tshirt over it to conceal it. He gives me a long solemn look before closing the door.

I watch him walk around the front of the truck and he doesn't get ten steps away from the vehicle before I panic. He can't go. I fucking panic. I open my passenger's side door and slide out of my seat and as soon as he hears the door click he's running back to the truck. No sooner do I get the door shut then he's right there when I turn around, palm on my throat and fingers clamped around my jaw, slamming me hard against the closed door. "What the fuck are you doing!? I told you to wait in the truck!"

"I'm coming with you."

"Are you fucking insane?"

"Thomas won't kill you if I'm with you."

"What the fuck gives you that idea?"

"You think Thomas is gonna let me witness a murder!?"

"No, but there will be a fucking double murder in Windsor Hills today if you don't get back in this motherfucking truck right now." He pushes me harder against the door when he says it, and I wince a little.

"At least we'll both be dead then." I spit the words in his face. But I fucking mean it. I don't know what I would do if he didn't come back.

"You are one crazy bitch, you know that? You think you know how this dealer shit works, but you fucking don't! You can't protect me! You just have to trust that I'm gonna come back, ok? OK!?" he tightens his grip on my jaw, shaking me a bit. I can tell he's freaking out about all of this. It's like a fucking nightmare.

"Ok." I wriggle in his grasp and he lets me go.

"Get in the fucking truck." He stands there until I crawl into the backseat and lay down.

I peer over the seat and out the back window as he scurries across the street into an alley between two buildings. I'm glad it's the middle of the day. I wouldn't be caught dead over here at night. Or I guess I should say if I were caught here at night, I would be dead.

God I wish I had a fucking watch. He's gone for five, seven, thirty minutes. It feels like hours ticking by. Fuck this.

I stare at the door handle, waiting, deciding, and I finally pull it toward me, slowly until it clicks. I crawl out of the seat and shut the door. What the fuck am I doing? But I have to go find him. He has to come back to me.

Thomas gets a glimpse of me as I creep up between the buildings, and his eyes narrow at me. Judging by the look on Thomas' face, Justin looks over his shoulder curiously, his eyes widen when he sees me.

But when he turns around he comes face to face with the barrel of Thomas's gun. I gasp, "no!" and I feel Justin's hand reaching behind him to push me against the wall of the building, holding me there.

"What's the bitch doing here, Justin?" Thomas says the words through clenched teeth, and Justin swallows hard as his body goes cold.

"I told her to wait in the truck."

"Well apparently she doesn't know how to take orders. Why did you even bring that rotten cunt with you on a business meeting? First you fuck me over with bad drugs, then you bring a whore with you to a business meeting. I don't think you have your head on straight, Big Man…maybe I should just blow it off."

"Fuck you Thomas, you know that shit from Ojai wasn't Justin's!" I squeak the words out from against the wall, trying to escape Justin's hold.

"Would you shut the FUCK UP!?" Justin screams over his shoulder, his voice strained and maniacal, struggling to push me back, but I step around him.

And Thomas points the gun at me.

"I don't think I was talking to you, you fuckin coke whore."

In an instant Justin is in front of me, gun drawn and pointed straight back at Thomas, jaw clenched, brows knitted, fire in his eyes. He lowers his voice, "no, you weren't. You were talking to me, motherfucker. So now what?"

Thomas scoffs a little, almost a laugh, cocking his head to the side. "Oh, it's like that huh?"

"Yeah, it's just like that, bitch." It's a standoff.

Neither moves. Neither blinks.

Silence.

I don't even think anyone is breathing.

He glares at Justin for a long second, fuming, and pulls his hand to the side, firing a shot down the alley between the buildings and I scream as Justin pushes me harder against the wall behind him, body still covering me. Thomas hesitates, then steps forward, pushing the barrel of the gun to Justin's neck, the metal now hot from the propulsion of the bullet and Justin sucks in his breath through his teeth. A strangled noise escapes his throat as the metal burns his skin, singeing his flesh, marking him permanently. I squeak out a whimper, and Justin's hand grips me strong behind his back.

Thomas is nose to nose with Justin, gun to his neck, Justin's gun pushed against Thomas's chest. Either one could be dead in an instant. "Tell me that white from Ojai wasn't yours….TELL ME JUSTIN!" he spits the words in his face, pulling the hammer back on the pistol with a click, and Justin holds his breath.

His voice is straining in his throat, "you fucking know it wasn't mine. I don't run shit to Ojai, and all my blow is quality. Don't act like you don't know me and my business."

"Fine…but if I get one more shotty deal and it even smells like you had something to do with it…you're dead. You and your cunt bitch."

As soon as Thomas is out of earshot, Justin snaps his head around to me, spitting out his words through gritted teeth, "I should fuckin kill you with my bare hands for that shit," he grips my shoulders hard, shaking me, but I'm crying, silent tears slipping down my face. He exhales, slumping as the tension leaves his body and he places his hands on my ribcage. I can feel them trembling against my sides as he puts his face in my neck and I clutch the back of his head, tears falling faster down my cheeks but I still try not to make a sound.

"If you ever…ever…ever pull some shit like that again…" his words trail off as I run my fingertips slowly over his face, my hands trembling and tears still in my eyes. I'm not even listening to him, I'm just glad he's alive. He rests his forehead against mine and sighs, "lets get the fuck outta here."

EEP! JTPC!! haha.
thanks SO MUCH to everyone for their feedback...I had a quick turnaround this week...the next post is actually in edits right now...it will be up on FRIDAY because the lovely Christine requested it for her birthday!!

but thank you again so much for reading it and loving it and sticking with it!!

til Friday.....