Page 27 of Intrepid

“Relax, man.” I turned to Eli, who sat with a devilish grin on his face, watching the kid’s pissed off tirade. “He won’t call you that again.”

As Eli’s eyes flickered to mine, I silently warned him to cut it out.

“We’re gonna go. My dad’s coming any time.”

“Your dad isn’t coming for a few hours, lyin’ ass. I’m not leaving until I sample the shit.”

Eli had officially worn my patience thin, and I’d had enough of his bullshit. “You’re sampling the shit on your own, then.” Two steps toward the door, and the big kid stepped in my way.

The first zing of panic rippled down my spine.

“You c-c-c-can’t go yet.” His brows came together, his shoulders bunched and body rigid for a fight.

“Get out of my way.” It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to fight a bully, and although my head seemed convinced the sheer size of him could easily pummel me, my gut told me not to back down. “I’m going.”

“Piss off, asshole. If he wants to leave, he can leave.” Eli pushed up from the floor, coming to a stand beside me. His fingers hit my palm, and I knew what would come after.

In the next breath, Eli barreled forward and knocked the kid backward with a thunk against the wall behind him. A flimsy light fixture jiggled above them, then popped out of its fitting before shattering below.

Eli scrambled across the floor with the kid, while I stood dumbfounded for a moment. “Get the bag!” he shouted, wrestling the kid’s flailing arm, and socked a punch to the poor sap’s face.

The kid squealed, grabbing hold of his arm where blood trickled between his fingers. “You fucking c-c-c-cut me!”

I lurched forward, just outside of their rollicking, and swiped up the weed from the floor. “Let’s get out of here!”

Spinning away brought me face to face with a stranger in the doorway, and I froze in place.

“Well, what have we here?” The unfamiliar voice brought everything to a standstill. He must’ve only stood an inch taller than my five-ten, and he wore a black Megadeth tank top, faded enough to show the massive sweat stains at his pits. Probably in his late thirties, maybe early forties, judging by the grays in his short-cropped beard and ponytail. His glasses held a slight tint, making it hard to see his eyes behind them.

“Th-th-th-they was t-t-t-tryna steal from you!”

Eli pushed to his feet beside me. “We weren’t stealin’ nothin’. Your boy offered it to us.”

The stranger’s brow winged up, his mustache shifting with his smirk. “My boy? Well, that wasn’t his to offer, son.”

I tossed the bag, and he caught it mid-air. “We didn’t mean any harm. We’ll leave.”

Frowning, he dipped his gaze toward the stuttering kid and back. “No harm? His arm looks like it got its fuckin’ menstruals.”

“Just defending myself.” Eli stuffed the knife back into his pocket, holding up his hands. “Asshole attacked me first.”

“L-l-l-liar!”

Cheeks puffed, the stranger stared down at the bag, and blew out a breath. “You want to try it?” He cocked his brow at the same time he held up the weed. “I won’t tell your mom and dad. Long as you don’t tell ‘em you saw it here.”

“S’okay.” Eli’s voice held a much quieter tone, more humble and laced with what I determined might’ve been a small bit of fear. “We’ll just go. We won’t tell no one it’s here.”

Finger pointed at Eli, the guy shook his head. “Ah, I don’t believe ya. See, when someone’s part of the crime, they’re less likely to tell. I call it the guilt factor. You go home now, it’s easy to squeal to your momma that some asshole’s got weed stashed under his bed.” The abrupt movement of his hands to emphasize his words, like a cartoon character on crack, kept my nerves on edge. “But you try some? Boy, all you gonna do is pray she don’t smell it on ya.” The shaking of his body accompanied the dramatic clasping of his hands in prayer, and his lips spread to a rotted-toothed smile, with brown stubs where his incisors should’ve been. “So I’m gonna need ya to take a couple hits.”

“I’m not smokin’ shit. Never tried it before.”

That evil smile widened, and a burst of laughter flew from his mouth. “What the fuck kind of boy scout bullshit is this?” The bag dangled with every jostling chuckle where he held it against his hip. “You come to my house, into my bedroom, and was holding my stash, son. Don’t give me this just say no shit.”

My jaw clenched and I lurched toward him, but in the next blink, I stared down the barrel of a gun pointed at my skull.

“Kids ‘round here call me Uncle Fox. I’m a nice guy. Unless you’re a shithead with a cowboy complex. Then things get a little touchy.”

Eli took a step forward, his chin jutted in anger. “Touchy? ‘S’at why you have pictures of naked kids under your bed?”