Episode 06| Chillax

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a/n: I asked atiyamunirx to make a cover for Reckless Hearts a while ago. Thank you so much. Here's the new chapter :) Please don't forget to vote and comment.

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Bryce's P.O.V.

Conner smelled like a fucking dumpster, and no one bothered to ask him what kind of mess he got himself into this time around. He stumbled into my uncle's bar, ten minutes till eight o'clock, and had a thin film of dirt covering his black jacket and around his neck. It was like he bathed inside of a sewer for the heck of it before he came downtown.

I didn't get the full effect of his stench until he plopped down at my booth and reached over for my drink. I swiftly smacked his hand back and scooted my drink closer to my chest. "What the hell happened to you?"

Conner's brows shot up to his hairline. He sat back and threw both of his hands up. "You're asking me what happened? For fuck sakes, Bryce, you're the one who told me to go meet up with Anthony!"

Slowly but surely, I started to recall what I wanted Conner to do for me with one of the south-side boys near the docks. They had a package of narcotics waiting by the waters. It wasn't for us. It was someone else's dope, but I had caught wind of the drop off last week. Jacking someone's product like that could get us in real trouble with rivaling gangs, but after the crack down on one of the labs by the bay, it was my only hope to start selling again.

Conner was the smartest person for the job. He knew the ends and outs of an operation like that and Anthony was familiar with the location. That's the only reason I'd ever let a low-ranking pipsqueak like him join in on something with high-stakes.

I lifted up my drink and took a long swig. "How did it go?"

"How did it go? How did it go?" he repeated, pointing to the dirt on his neck. Now that he was in close proximity, I was beginning to question if that was dirt on his neck or something entirely worse. "How do you think it went, Bryce? You've been breathing into your shirt since I walked in here."

"Okay, okay. I get it." Most guys wouldn't talk to me in that tone. They knew better than to raise their voice when they were speaking to me. I pulled up the collar of my jacket and inhaled into the fabric, hoping that would help. "Did you at least get the package?"

"Yes, I got the package. I dropped it off at the safe house. I need you to go with me so we can start cutting the kilo up into purchasable units together."

Fucking great. I bet the safe house smelled like him now. I'd have to wash it down with bleach before I could be able to work there.

I coughed into my jacket. "Alright. I'll get some people to help us, but we're not starting until you get a bath first. No way am I going to deal with you in this state. Why do you smell that bad to begin with?"

"You didn't really give us a time frame on when we should get the package. Either they had people nearby to warn them or they were already on their way, because the second we got the package, they started coming out of nowhere." Conner informed, leaning forward in his seat. Another wave of stench slammed into me, but I recuperated and tried to pay attention to the story and not the odor radiating off of him. "It was Anthony's idea to go into the sewers so we could lose them. Eventually, we lost them in the sewers and we were able to get back above ground."

"That's good news."

I wanted to ask Conner if he was able to weigh the package before he left it at the safe house, but there was a young couple shuffling past us, watching us as we talked. Even though my uncle Ricky's bar was just a fake upfront business to hide what was really going on behind locked doors, people still found their way into the bar and socialized near the pool tables.

It was never a crowded room, but tonight, it was busier than on most nights. There were still about fifteen of our guys in the building and probably five more in the back room playing poker. No one was stupid enough to walk in here and start a problem with me when I was at Rickey's. Or really, anywhere else in L.A. because typically I had about four other guys with me most of the time when I went places.

People in Southern California knew they couldn't mess with my money, my friends, or my family. I didn't have time to have a girlfriend, so that was thankfully off the list. Having a girlfriend meant I gave my rivals one extra thing to use as bait so they could have control over me. I couldn't handle that much pressure. So for the safety of others, I didn't date.

It might seem like I'm a little paranoid to other people when you hear how much protection I have around me at all times. But with the number of enemies I've gained in the past four years, there's no such thing as being a little paranoid.

"Hey, turn that up. That's Lincoln University," one of the guys shouted from a booth behind me. He stood up and walked to the TV mounted above the bar. "Yo, Rick. Turn up the volume."

I turned my head an inch to watch. A small group of guys huddled under the TV started to laugh when a clip of a girl falling into a lake played. I exhaled a sigh at the crowd of buffoons that found humor in a girl nearly drowning in a lake. I was into some morbid jokes, but I wasn't rude enough to laugh at someone who couldn't swim.

"It's not that funny," I said, softly at first. "Quit laughing."

One of them spun around to see who had spoken. "It is fun– oh. Okay, Bryce." His face paled and the other guys' laughter muffled until it stopped all together.

"You saved her from the lake, didn't you?" One of them dared to speak up and ask. "I remember you going in and helping her."

"Yeah? And what's your point?"

"Well did you get some action afterw—"

I cut him off; I wasn't in the mood. "How about you turn the fuck back around before I snap your neck." I grumbled, picking up my drink and stirring around the red straw. I didn't know if it was my Queens, New York mentality to knock the teeth out of this wise guy or my father's impulsive behavior that was starting to rub off of me after all these years.

Either way, that night was something I didn't want to talk about.

Don't get me wrong, I still remembered that night. Sophia went in, looking for Remy Annenberg, lugging around two of her friends with her. Before I saw Reina Annenberg shove her into the lake, I had already had my eyes on her. She was in my Sociocultural Anthropology class this year and she sat several rows ahead of me. I typically showed up late for the class so I sat near the back. She, on the other hand, sat right in the front row.

After I got her out of the lake, it was really hard to pretend like I didn't know her name or who she was. Apparently, girls don't like it when a random guy with a fuck-load of tattoos knows their first and last name before even saying hello. Who knew?

  •••

Monday's were systematically created to ruin my week. I only had one class today and I made it an effort to not be ten minutes late like I usually was. My sociocultural anthropology Professor was a tired old woman that always said "Uh" in between her sentences and looked like she hasn't had sex since the Nixon administration left office.

Her class was partially manageable because I shared it with Kelsey Jacobson. She made stupid jokes about Professor Evans while periodically writing notes for Conner to read when we left class. They had a weird relationship. I'd rather not dive into the details, especially after I heard him moaning like a goat the other week at our apartment.

I had met Kelsey freshman year before I'd met Conner Blackwell. We both had a class in the communications building. Lincoln University's Communication building was the worst possible place to have a class. The old wrinkly architect who build this place put all of the numbers out of order on purpose. He did this so we would be forced to talk to each other in order to find the right room.

I ended up talking to her on the first week of class, and eventually, I met Conner through her. They were only friends at the time, but I could tell they'd start dating sooner or later because of the way they acted around each other.

Kelsey always kept a tough persona over her face like a mask. The only person who could see through that was Conner, and he did it without trying. Kelsey and Conner were equally cruel to anyone who dared to talk to them, but they were undoubtedly kind to one another when it was just the two of them.

It was a damn hassle having to deal with it every day. Seeing them kissing and hugging, groping and touching every minute was annoying enough to want to gouge my eyes out.

"You could get a girlfriend," Kelsey suggested for the tenth time this term. We were a good fifteen minutes ahead of schedule for class and if we kept walking at this pace, we should get there in three minutes. "What happened with you and Emma?"

I shrugged and decided to piss her off for the heck of it by saying: "Emma was great. I just wish she would've lasted a little longer in bed. She redeemed herself in the shower though. Twice."

Kelsey slapped the back of my head. "Idiot. You weren't supposed to sleep with her after one date. I set you up with her so you could go steady, not so you could hook-up."

"It's not the 1950s, Kels. No one goes steady anymore." I rubbed the back of my head. She was lucky I loved her like a sister. If Conner would've done that, I would've slammed him into the tree without thinking twice about it. "Besides, I don't think you past the memo on to her, because she was far too eager to get back to my place...and then back to her dorm, and then -"

She groaned. "Can't you be a gentlemen and tell her to wait?"

"And what? Deprive a girl of a good night?" I puffed. "I don't think so. I can't break her heart like that."

"You're so considerate." Kelsey said while rolling her eyes. She abruptly stopped halfway across the quad and bent down to tie up her boots. One of the laces had come undone. "Let's get serious, though, Bryce. What about Grace Weng? She's cute, right?"

"Yeah, she is cute, but she's also a coke-head." I noted. "I'm not dating one of my customers."

I had learned my lesson from that mistake and I wasn't going back down that route.

"Stop trying to hitch me with someone," I exclaimed. "I'm not going to be interest in anyone you set me up with." 

Kelsey got up from the ground and threw her hands up in distress. "How are you supposed to ever be in a committed relationship if you only end up going on one-night stands? Don't you want a wife in the future?"

"Kelsey. I'm twenty-three. I don't even know what I want for dinner tonight. How the hell am I supposed to know if I want to settle down and get married to someone?"

"Well do you even want to get married?"

I decided to answer her question with a question, hoping she'd understand where I was coming from. "Why should I marry someone when I'll probably end up divorcing them? Either it'll be because of infidelity, lack of communication, lack of love, or a ton of other reasons." I listed. "Marriage didn't work out for my mom and dad, or my mom and her second husband. I just don't see a point in any of it."

The smile on her face faltered to reveal a disheartened frown. "I'd still want to get married with Conner."

I took a step forward. "Look, what you Conner have is your business. I'm happy for you two – even though it's annoying at times. I'm happy, though. But just because it works for you guys, doesn't mean it'll work for me."

I didn't want to tell Kelsey the risk factor in dating while in my line of work. Did I want someone in life? Well, yeah, I'm sure everyone did. But I didn't want to have the burden of someone else's life hanging over my head if it ended because of me.

I'd learned from that lesson, too.

Kelsey was well aware of the risks. But like a lot of the girls who dated my boys, she didn't like to remind herself that she could easily be a target at the drop of a hat.

In the far distance, the clock tower located near the center of campus chimed. We had about ten more minutes before Professor Evans would waddle into the room and start her hour long lecture and tell us what chapter of the textbook we needed to read tonight.

"We have to get going." I said and hurried on down the rest of the quad and up the steep hill that led to the lecture hall.

"You've gotta chill, Bryce. We're ahead schedule. We don't have to rush."

I put her words to the back of my mind. People usually dodged my path when I walked at normal speed, but now that I was in a hurry, more people tripped and scurried out of my way. Whoever said there aren't any benefits in being mean to people probably never met me.

I made it to class without having to be forced to sit in the back. There were still a few open seats in the front that hadn't been taken up yet. I scanned the room, shuffling down the steps with my eyes focusing in on one particular person. I had reached the last step when someone else swooped in and took the last remaining seat beside Sophia. There were two open seats behind her, and I swiftly occupied one of them instead.

Kelsey panted loudly as she fell into the seat beside me. In a low whisper, she leaned into my arm and said, motioning to Sophia: "Is she the reason we rushed to class?"

I gritted my teeth, keeping my mouth shut while I brought out my journal and blue pen in silence. Without even knowing it, I had just planted a seed in Kelsey's love-sick head. Her eyes remained on Sophia, possibly thinking of a million ways to get to her before I could stop her.

I wasn't wrong with what I had said earlier. Mondays were definitely systematically created to ruin my week. Kelsey Jacobson, on the other hand, was created to ruin my life.

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