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Breathless	By : xCookingWinex Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Aiden Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Aiden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Thanks so much for all of your kind comments, I appreciate it so much. Sorry I took so long to update, there'll be more of this now, promise! x
Chapter 7
Wil woke up covered in dirt, puke, and whatever else he’d slept in. He was in the park, under a tree where the grass was wearing thin, and morning frost had covered the dirt. Early December was approaching – Christmas would come all too soon.
He got up and attempted to flatten his dishevelled hair after pulling leaves out of it. He felt terrible, his head pounded. He had way too much to drink last night. He walked uncertainly through the park. It’s a beautiful park, the biggest in Seattle. White with snow in the winter, orange and brown with leaves in the Fall, bright and sunny during Spring and Summer. It’s always full of dog walkers, joggers and children of all ages.
Wil stumbled into a couple of joggers by accident as he made his way down the road. He pulled his hood up over his messy hair and put his hands in his pockets. His head hurt so bad, he knew he had to go and steal some Tylenol.
He heard some hurried footsteps beside him, and moved over instinctively thinking it was another jogger. He was surprised when the steps slowed as they reached him.
“Hey.” He heard from behind him.
Wil turned and saw another guy with his hood up, looking shady. He recognised him but couldn’t place the voice.
“Can I help you?” Wil asked rudely, picking up his pace.
“It’s me, JD.”
“Oh,” he slowed a bit. “What do you want? Come to beat me up again have you?”
“I’m sorry about that man … we just get a bit touchy over … well, I’m sorry.”
“Whatever. What do you want?” he asked again.
“I’ve got a proposition for you,” Wil raised an eyebrow while looking at him. “Just hear me out.”
“Fine.” He stopped, turning to JD.
“We should go somewhere private.”
“Whatever you have to say you can tell me here. There’s no one around anyway.”
He signed, dragging Wil off the path. He leaned in close, “Listen. I know how I can get you some money. Money beyond your wildest dreams.”
Money? He thought. I haven’t had proper money in so long. Have I ever had proper money?
“I’m listening.”
“See, we’re all … well … we’re dealers, Wil.”
“Right …” he said uncertainly. He guessed they were already, it didn’t shock him.
“We deal to practically every drug addict in Seattle,” Wil’s mind boggled at how many people that must be. They must be rolling in cash. “Sometimes we go out of Seattle too.”
“Holy crap.”
“Exactly.”
“So what do you want me for?”
“Join us. Be a dealer with us.”
“Are you kidding? I couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you can. Wolfe takes care of us … he’s a powerful man.”
“Who’s Wolfe?”
“Oh. Jake. He’s known as Wolfe to everyone except his ‘gang’, as he calls us. I’m surprised he told you his real name. He must think there’s somethin’ to ya.”
Wolfe … now that name rang a bell. He was always in the Seattle news. Alyn must know of him, he speculated. But I won’t mention it.
“How much we talking, in terms of dollars?”
“Anything from $50 a day to $5000. Cash.”
“Shit man. Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I don’t know, it still seems … dodgy.”
“Look, I’m doing an errand right now. Come with me.”
He nodded, and they started to walk together. They didn’t say anything. The air felt thick with anxiety, and Wil wondered if it was coming from him or JD. He knew he had nothing to lose by tagging along with JD, he knew the worst that could happen was that they get caught by the police. But at least he’d have a bed for the night, somewhere to keep him warm and some food.
They walked for what seemed like forever, every so often JD offering advice like Wil had accepted his offer. He said how they never got caught because they were careful, and he would have to be too when he goes out by himself.
“No dodgy long overcoats and shifty eyes,” JD had said. “No ‘you got the stuff/you got the money’ shit. In and out, simple as.”
Wil questioned what happened when the person they were delivering to couldn’t pay up.
“We don’t give him his shit, and that’s that. You never wanna become in debt to us, trust me.”
“What do you do to people in debt then?”
“We go ‘mob’ on them.”
“Ah, horses head in their bed?”
“No, we don’t do messy shit … just threats and stuff.”
“Ever kill anyone?”
JD waited a beat. Wil took this as a yes.
“We’re here,” JD said, turning left and walking onto someone’s porch.
The house was huge, a country manor style house that seemed out of place in Seattle. Then again, it felt like they’d walked miles out of the city.
JD knocked on the door, and an older man with salt and pepper hair answered.
He frowned and shouted, “I told you, I don’t give money to beggars, now get off my doorstep!”
“Fuck you old man!” JD shouted back. The old man shoved JD, and he shoved him back. Wil wasn’t sure what was going on, but in the next beat, the man had slammed the door in their faces.
“What the fuck was that?” Wil asked.
“Here,” JD slammed an envelope into his chest. “Look.”
He caught the envelope and quickly looked inside. Wads of dollar bills.
“You shrewd bastard.” Wil laughed, “That was smooth. Albeit loud.”
“It’s as simple as that, Wil.”
“You just knock on people’s doors, shout at them, and then craftily exchange stuff?”
“Not all people … but it works most of the time. We have to change what we do for each person, course. Not all people live in huge fuck-off houses like that man does.”
“Never would have looked at him as a user.”
“They come in the weirdest packages.”
“I imagine they do.”
“What do you think Wil? You could earn so much money just by doing something so easy.”
JD was right, it did seem easy. He loved how his heart pounded and sent blood rushing round his body as the man opened the door, although he wasn’t sure if that was because he thought JD had made a mistake, or because it was so easy, and it seemed no one suspected a thing. JD seemed to be doing okay for himself, they all did. Nick even had a proper job as well. He must be rolling in it, he thought.
“Where do I sign?”
“Ah ha, Wil, you won’t regret this, you won’t regret it at all.”
I bet I will.
“And you can keep that too,” he signalled to the white packet he had in his hand. “Two thousand dollars.”
“Two … Two thousand dollars?”
“You earned it.”
“What did that guy buy that cost that much money?”
“Let’s just say that guy is well known to us. Complete fucking junkie, with a wife, two kids and job in the local council. We could ruin him,” He laughed spitefully. “But he practically keeps us in business, so we won’t. What’re you going to spend your first pay cheque on?”
“Settling an old score, I think.”
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Breathless