Smash!

•F O R T Y•

Jamie's POV

Riley isn't the only one who "knows someone" to sneak into closed business.

Staring down a barrel of a gun from across the table, I intently watch it because I'm too scared to look away. Like Robin and Riley next to me, I'm too rigid to dare move, gripping onto my chair with sweaty palms. Nate sits on the other side of the table which is tragically directly across from me, thrashing his dirty blonde head to the screamo music blasting on the speakers in this hole in the wall restaurant.

Between the waves of anxiety, I send a silent thank you to my grandmother for keeping my brother and I away from drugs. Nate is more drugs than person. Logic, common sense, morality, emotions; they're all replaced with heroin. I try to imagine Nate before all the snorting and injections and fistful of pills, desperately concentrating on an idea of a different version of him, what he went through, what got him to this point, but fail.

"Hey," The guy who let us in after closing, also part time sells for Nate comes to the little square table. "Want anything from the kitchen?"

"These idiots must be starving. Probably haven't eaten since yesterday, am I right?" Yelling over the music, Nate ceases his thrashing to shoot the three of us an amused look. Acting as if we're not hostages at gun point, Nate has been acting as if we're four good friends hanging out. When he dragged us away from Riley's car an hour ago, he wasn't angry but unnaturally friendly. Too fearful to try anything, we obediently climbed into Nate's expensive car, shaking in his leather seats the entire ride. Though the duffel bag from earlier is at our feet, we thankfully passed Jordy on our way to Nate's car, and unnoticeably handed off Killer. No doubt Jordy and his raggedy tent is safer than Nate.

"We're not hungry." Robin braves a word in, but her voice is too quiet to sound like Robin. I've grown so use to her smart ass, confident tone that this hushed tone of hers puts me even more on edge.

"Either you order something or I will." Why do I have the feeling Nate will make us eat something gross, like uncooked meat? Or perhaps he'd make us eat and not stop till we're sick.

"Coffee then." Riley struggles to keep the anger from his voice. I fight the urge to reach out under the table, to take hold of his hand for comfort, but paralyzed by fear as I stare down the gun on the table. "I'll take coffee. Black."

"Irish coffee," Robin orders, looking miserable. "Hold the cream and brown sugar. Light coffee. Extra whiskey." Robin adds, looking miserable and fidgety. I'm starting to comprehend why Robin resorts to anything that won't keep her sober. Being around Nate makes you need to take the edge off with anything strong.

"Ginger?!" I didn't even realize it's my turn to speak, till Nate starts barking at me.

"Tea," I weakly manage, still staring down the gun by Nate's tattooed elbow. "Anything caffeinated." I add, knowing full well I'll need the caffeine boost.

"Coffee for me too. The darkest blend." A small part of me feels a bit reassured at Nate's simple order. Nate is so volatile, we never know when he's going to erupt. When the drinks reach the table Nate is calm enough till he pulls out a miniature zip lock bag full of white powder that is no doubt something illegal.

"Sweet n low," Nate fakes a grin as he stirs the drugs into his coffee. This doesn't bode well for us. My stomach lurches as Nate takes a long sip till he starts twitching.