I Like You a Latte {Completed}

29 | Meeting the Evil

Beverly shivered, watching idly as her breaths frosted in the freezing night air. "This may not have been my best idea," she confessed to Deb, who was standing next to her.

"You're just realizing that now?" Deb scoffed a laugh. "If you're so worried about it, why didn't you call your boyfriend?"

Beverly's gaze sharpened, and she whipped her head around to stare at her roommate. "'Boyfriend'?" she parroted squeakily, "How did you know about that?"

"Ah," Deb's grin was catty, and a small part of Beverly was pleased to see that the other girl was acting more like herself. "So there is a boyfriend. Is he cute?"

Embarrassed for getting herself caught, Beverly just grunted, "I don't see how this conversation helps our current predicament at all." Plus, she didn't want to explain that she'd lost the boyfriend almost as quickly as she'd gotten him. She didn't consider herself a proud person, but it was pretty embarrassing to admit that she'd ruined everything by being too nosy.

Deb practically cackled. "God, you're so precious. It's still a shame that he's not here, but oh well."

Ignoring her, Beverly let her gaze drift over the darkness of the campus's main green, a wide field shrouded by trees and lined with sidewalks and lampposts. All would have been normal, if not for the figure approaching, their form illuminated only by the dim lighting.

"Incoming," Beverly warned under her breath, watching out of the corner of her eye as Deb straightened.

"I see him," her roommate returned. "All set?" The words themselves were shaky at best, but Beverly chose not to mention it, instead setting her jaw and letting her grip tighten on the duffel bag in her hands.

"All set."

"Ah!" Dennis cried as he approached, his features barely visible. He rubbed his hands together gleefully when his eyes settled on Beverly. "I was hoping I'd see you again!" Beverly ground her teeth in annoyance as he shifted his gaze to Deb.

"And Deborah," the name was said almost tauntingly, "I'm glad you finally delivered. I was worried I'd have to get my hands messy." Deb's chin wobbled; Beverly had to resist the urge to reach out, slap the girl, and demand her to become bitchy again.

"Hey," Beverly interrupted, glad when Dennis's attention landed on her once more. "I want to know more about this, and Deb said you'd be willing to explain a little bit more about what you sell."

Dennis slapped a hand against his thigh and chuckled heartily. "Nice try, darling, but that's not how this works."

"Oh? How does it work, then?"

He stepped into her personal space, and Beverly had to fight a grimace of disgust. Angling his lips by her ear so his hot breaths slapped against her cheek, he muttered, "I could tell you all about it, in detail, but I'm afraid we don't have enough time. So," he used one hand to trace the shell of her ear even as he pulled away, "if you'll just give me the money, I'll be on my way."

God, I wish Griffin was here, she thought to herself, stumbling backwards several steps. "And I will give you the money," she internally cursed when her voice wavered slightly, "but I want you to answer one question first: how long have you been infecting this campus with drugs?"

Dennis considered her for a long moment, his head ticked to the right as he regarded her carefully. "Longer than either you and I could comprehend—business is business, darling; once you understand that, you'll understand why I work for whom I do. I'll take that money, now."

He pulled the bag from her hands, and Beverly let him, her brain having blanked as soon as she'd comprehended his words. Once she was sure he was gone, she swung around to face Deb, whose expression was just as shocked as hers.

"Did he just. . .?" Deb spluttered, her arms hanging loosely by her sides. "I mean, was that . . .?"

Beverly nodded dumbly, the words heavy as they fell from her lips. "He's not the leader."

***

"We are so goddamn screwed," Deb hissed as she threw open the dorm room door. "If he's not the leader, then how the hell are we supposed to stop this?"

Choosing not to mention that Deb seemed to be totally fine with the 'we' aspect of their newly found sort-of-kind-of friendship against evil drug lords, Beverly fell into her desk chair, placing her head and her hands and groaning loudly. "I honestly don't know. Did you at least get the recording?"

"Yeah," there was a squeak as Deb collapsed into her own chair. "It's all here, but I don't know how useful it will be, now." She had a good point. Although they'd recorded the entire conversation with Dennis, it didn't provide much help; Dennis never mentioned the true leader by name, nor did he enclose any other vital details.

Beverly tossed her head back, staring up at the ceiling morosely. "We need to find the actual leader," she agreed, "but I don't know how we'll do that. Tell me," she sat up so she could eye Deb, "did you ever give money to anyone other than Dennis?"

Deb shook her head. "No. It was Dennis every single time, and he always met me on campus somewhere."

Well, that didn't help.

"Okay . . . how about dropping off the drugs? Did you ever go to one place more than others? I know you mentioned businesses."

Deb tilted her head, her brows furrowed in thought. "There was one place—I had a code with the receptionist, and she would take the delivery; I'm not sure where it went after that, but I went there at least once a week."

Beverly tapped a finger against her chin, her feet bobbing against the floor. "That could be our guy; he might be using his business as a cover."

"Oh," Deb waved her hand in a No, no, no! gesture, "I doubt that. I was there when the CEO came down once, and the receptionist almost had a panic attack—she turned sheet white and wouldn't talk to me until she was sure he was gone; she told me if I ever mentioned anything to him that I'd be dead before morning. No, this guy is probably just one of the workers."

Something about her roommate's words made Beverly's stomach coil with dread. "Deb, what business is it?"

"That one in the big shiny building—Silvertons, I think it's called?"

Damn it. 

***

A/N: Ruh-roh. 

ಠ_ಠ

Till next time, 

A.R.