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The gun is at Joey’s head before he can even take his hands out of his pockets.
He freezes, eyes flicking up.
“Really, dude?”
The guy doesn’t smile, doesn’t back up. He gestures down with the gun.
“I want the rest of it.”
The cold, heavy barrel comes to rest on his forehead. Joey bites his tongue at the bruising sting, glaring back at the fucker. He thought this would be just another frat boy loading up for the weekend; he certainly looks the part. Joey never even looked for a gun – not until it was in his face.
“Now, bitch,” the guy hisses.
Joey glares harder, but is forced to move when the man steps forwards, the gun biting into Joey’s skin. He grinds his teeth, feeling pathetic as his back meets the wall.
“Hands out of your pockets.”
The guy’s fingers flex and Joey pulls his hands out, heart hammering. He may have a fair stash on him, but it’s not worth his life.
The guy snatches the bags from his fingers. It’s only what he ordered, some pills and an assortment of powders, so he’s jamming his hands into Joey’s hoodie pocket a moment later.
Joey’s eyes dart around. Working out of dark alleys is kinda part and parcel of the job, but it’s sure come back to bite him in the ass. Something about tonight’s made him extra cagey, could have sworn someone was following him. He’d been ducking between spidery alleys, sticking to the damp shadows when his phone had buzzed with the buyer arriving.
No one’s around. Joey made sure of it. Shit. The nearest streetlight is far away on a distant corner. Even the club he’s been lurking near feels too far now, its pounding bass sealed behind fire doors two streets down.
“Fucking– Jesus, man,” Joey curses as the guy scrabbles in his pocket, fingers raking over his stomach through the fabric which right now feels all too thin.
“Shut up,” he gets in return, the gun jolting against his head.
Joey bites down more curses, breathing thickly through his nose.
There’s only two more packets in that pocket, and the guy shakes them in Joey’s face now.
“The fuck do you call this? I want it all.”
“How much do you think I fucking carry?” Joey retorts, “I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Turn around.”
Joey stares.
“I said, turn around.”
Joey raises his lip to a scowl.
“Sicko. Just let me get it, fuck–”
“Turn the fuck around!”
The guy grabs Joey’s shoulder with a fist in his hoodie, and then he’s slamming him around into the bricks. In a second the gun is back, jamming painfully against the base of his skull, forcing his cheek harder with a harsh crunch against the wall.
“I’ll fucking shoot you!”
The voice is hot in his ear, and there’s a hand at his hip, prodding, intruding fingers worming their way into a pocket, dragging down the inside.
“Stop– fucking– get off–”
Jerking his head around, the bricks tear grazes in Joey’s skin. It only makes the guy press closer, lifting his arm to clamp Joey against the wall, force him still.
Head forced to the side the way it is, Joey swears he sees a movement, a shadow somewhere between him and the streetlight. But this place is made of shadows. No one comes.
“Stay still, I’m warning you.”
Joey raises his hands.
“I’ll show you where it is! Stop fucking touching me!”
The arm only gets tighter, constricting his chest mercilessly. This time, the voice is pressed so close to his ear that he feels a hot fleck of spit. The man punctuates his tirade with rough shoves, making Joey gasp.
“You’re gonna give me all your shit and you’re gonna tell me who sells it to you, and you’re gonna fucking stay there and take it!”
The barrel on the back of his head moves, and Joey’s certain he’s going to die.
A burst of pain rings in his ears, and the asphalt is coming up to meet him. But the blow is blunt. Dizzying, but not deadly. There’s no shot.
Stones bite at Joey’s palms and static fizzles in bursts over the shapes of the murky street. He rolls over just in time as the guy descends on him. His legs pen Joey in, one hand grabbing roughly at his pants, clawing for a pocket, or his waistband, he can’t tell.
Through the static, Joey sees the gun in the man’s fist, planting in the ground by his head. He shoves the stranger’s forearm, hard. His elbow slams onto the ground. Joey kicks out, desperate to get him off, knees and boots colliding. The weight of a body tumbles onto him, pinning him, trapping him, and he thrashes away but the hard pressure of the barrel shoves into his skull once more, under his ear–
The man flies off him.
A shuddering breath rips through Joey as he’s freed, hand shooting immediately to a pocket in his pants. He feels better the minute the knife is in his hand.
Ears ringing, head spinning, he blinks up at the shape above him. The guy’s feet are wrenched from the ground. The gun clatters away, and then he’s landing in a heap next to Joey, a new, bigger figure blocking out the faint streetlight filtering from the far-off corner.
The guy scrambles upright, lunging for his gun, but he’s pushed back. He staggers, treading and tripping on Joey’s legs close behind him.
Joey pulls back, presses himself hurriedly against the wall. Rises to his feet, knife trembling in his hand.
The new guy has scooped Joey’s attacker up by the neck, and the scuffle sees them colliding with the wall, a dark tangle of limbs and blows, grunts breaking through the choppy haze of Joey’s own breathing in his ears. The guy who jumped him now has his back turned.
Joey tightens his grip on the knife.
The next second, his eyes widen. Another barrel glints in the dull light.
Looking up, Joey meets eyes with his apparent bodyguard.
It’s Mick.
Without thinking, Joey throws himself to the ground. It gives Mick the second he needs; the shot rings out.
A familiar, hot weight tumbles heavily over Joey’s legs. He doesn’t even have the chance to turn around before two meaty hands are under his armpits, yanking him upright. There’s a big arm over his back, tugging him away. He stumbles after Mick, keeping pace with his brusque strides for two, perhaps three streets, before he finally shoves him off, backing away from the larger man.
“Were you fucking following me?”
“I just saved your ass, don’t mention it.”
“I’m serious.”
Mick folds his arms, cutting an imposing shape in the thin alley they find themselves in.
“So is Shawn.”
Joey breathes out, nostrils flaring.
“So he’s still trying to buy me out? What, did he send that guy to fucking jump me?”
“He was after you for a reason.”
“Yeah, to feel up the local fag,” Joey rolls his eyes. Folding his own arms, he starts walking, Mick’s heavy steps immediately following.
“You heard what he was asking you. Who you’re buying from. If there’s a connection, people are gonna make it, Joe.”
“Do you guys adopt all of your fucking buyers?”
“Only the ones turning themself into a liability.”
Joey stops, turning sharply. The floor swings under him threateningly, but he sets his jaw and opens his mouth–
“I mean to yourself,” Mick grits, before Joey can argue. He steps closer, reaching a hand to steady Joey’s shoulder. It’s only when it meets his arm that Joey notices he’s swaying.
Joey shrugs it off.
“I’m fine. Fuck.”
“What’d he do to you? I didn’t hear a shot–”
“Didn’t shoot,” Joey sighs. The fresh grazes down the side of his face sting. “Just clocked me round the head. Which apparently he wouldn’t have done if I’d never had anything to do with you lot.”
He tries to turn away again, and again is caught by an arm.
“But you have,” Mick says bluntly. “So you can’t just keep wandering around clubs and random fucking alleys like no one knows who you are. You need some fucking protection.”
“Can’t I decide what I need?”
“Not when you’re concussed.”
“I’m n–”
Mick tightens his grip where Joey lists into him. He tilts his head down, fixing Joey with a stare that he doesn’t need to turn into words.
“We’ve got someone who can check you out, you know.”
“An’ if I don’t go, you’re gonna keep fucking tailing me.”
Mick’s thick shoulders rise in a shrug.
Joey chews his cheek and glares at the end of the alley. Mick’s right. He hates that he’s right – or, he hates that Shawn sent him here to be right. But he does need a doctor, and a place to crash, and apparently he’s already in this shit too deep to wade out.
He nods and follows Mick towards the glow of the streetlights.