Page 24 of Always: A Legacy Novel

“Vaffanculo,” Cross swore.

His friend only laughed.

The girl, however, smiled back at Catherine with kind eyes. “Hi. I’m Amanda.”

“Catherine.”

“Are you even old enough to be hanging around with an idiot like this?” she asked, jerking her thumb in Zeke’s direction.

Zeke scoffed. “Be nice, babe.”

Amanda’s lips quirked up at the edges. “I’m just saying.”

“I came for the other one, actually,” Catherine said.

“That might be just as bad.”

Unlike Zeke’s reaction, Cross agreed.

With a damn smirk.

Amanda turned back around in the front seat, put her sandal-clad feet to the dash, and asked, “Where are we headed?”

“The Pier,” Zeke said, putting the car in drive, “unless you’ve got somewhere else to be, babe.”

“Nope. The Pier is good.”

Since Catherine already had her phone out, she turned on the camera, and pointed the device in Cross’s direction. “Smile.”

He cocked a brow instead.

She took the picture, anyway.

It still looked good.

The constant stream of giggles from up above made Catherine look up. Amanda sat on the railing of the pier, tipped her head back, and let out a steady stream of gray smoke. Zeke stood between Amanda’s legs; his chin rested on her shoulder while he looked out at the water.

Even from down below, Catherine could smell the very distinct aroma of weed.

The giggling made a lot more sense.

For the first thirty minutes after they arrived, Catherine walked the pier with Cross, watching the water down below. Mostly, though, she watched unknown people approach Zeke where he had been sitting with Amanda on a bench. His hand would disappear into his bag, come out with something Catherine couldn’t see, and then money would get shoved inside before it was zipped back up again.

Over and over and over.

Then, the unknown people slowed. Zeke and Amanda moved to another part of the pier. Catherine and Cross moved down to the wet sand where the tide hadn’t come in yet.

“Is that what he was selling?” Catherine dared to ask.

Cross stopped walking, and so did she. “Who, Zeke?”

“Yeah, earlier. Weed, I mean. Is that—”

“Pick your poison or need, and Zeke probably has it,” Cross said, “but if he doesn’t, he can get his hands on it. He doesn’t deal at school. Someone’s already laid claim there. It’s the respect of the matter, or so he says.”

“Huh.”

Cross shrugged off his leather jacket, and tossed it over his arm. “Don’t worry. Zeke doesn’t use at all. He won’t be driving back high.”