Daddy's Little Angel
“I’m coming. But keep the weed lut.”
I dragged myself out, the red light casting bloody shadows on Alina’s photos.
I drove off to the spot, it was Jax’s warehouse, loft, a dingy hellhole reeking of weed and sweat, red bulbs flickering like my basement room.
The air was thick with smoke, bodies slumped on couches, bottles everywhere. Jax slapped on my back, shoving a joint in my hand. “There he is, the king of fucked up deals. Hit this, man, its killer.” I inhaled deep, the weed burning my lungs, mixing with the bourbon still churning in my gut.