Bouncer’s Folly by Gracie C. McKeever Read Free Book Online Page B

do. It wasn’t likely she would recognize who was on the other side, so the act was pretty much a waste of time.
    “Since when do you look through the peephole, mon? You know me .”
    Wroooong. Trevor knew him and from the looks and sounds of it, the Rastafarian on the other side of the door wasn’t someone Zara wanted to know. Sure, Halloween was several days away, but she had a feeling Rasta wasn’t really talking about candy, and he definitely didn’t look like the second coming of Sammy Davis, Jr.
    “C’mon mon. Open up and let me see you’re all right.”
    She could just ignore him, but decided that would bring her more trouble, if not more attention, than she wanted. But God, the man was a complete stranger. How was she supposed to let him in and wing things?
    Travis had made things easy, doing most of the talking on the drive from the hospital and filling in gaps on the assumption that his brother was still suffering from his OD and didn’t remember some things. Plus it was kind of hard not to trust a guy who was your mirror image. It went with the territory that Travis only had Trevor’s best interests at heart.
    She guessed she could play the amnesia card with Rasta man too, but for how long before she said something that gave her away?
    Taking a deep breath, Zara made a decision and opened the door.
    “It’s about time, mon. I was beginning to wonder if you were holding last night against me, when you know I taught you better.”
    “I don’t remember much about last night,” Zara admitted, stepping aside to let the man into the apartment.

    42
    Gracie C. McKeever
    He was a shade darker and a few inches taller than Ramsey, which was saying something since she’d put Ramsey at six-two. The dreadlocks tucked under the tri-colored green, black and yellow knit hat made him seem even taller and Zara could just imagine how far down his back those locks would tumble if he took off the hat.
    With hazel eyes and a beard and mustache trimmed around his mouth, Rasta was a nice-looking guy, if also slightly menacing and Zara wondered if there was anything between him and Trevor beside supplier and user. She didn’t get a sense that he was gay, but then it wouldn’t be the first time her gaydar had been off. She hoped there was nothing between them. She didn’t need that type of complication in her life right now.
    Rasta reached beneath his Jiffy Pop-looking hat to pull out a large plastic baggie filled with weed and shook it in front of Zara’s face as he took a seat in one of the beanbag chairs. “This will give you a smooth, mellow high. On the house.”
    “Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
    “What I tell you about mixing up all a them artificial chemicals them make in the lab, hmm? They kill you dead like poison. Now this,” he shook the bag again, “this is all natural, the only way to go. Listen to Jazmon. He won’t steer you wrong like those others.”
    Zara hadn’t heard such a convincing pitch since her brief stint as a telemarketer and wondered who those others were. Jazmon almost had her ready to sit down in the other beanbag chair and roll a blunt. But she couldn’t no matter how curious her salivary glands were. She had made a promise to Ramsey and even if she wasn’t as chemically dependent as Trevor seemed to be, she couldn’t go back on her word, didn’t want to.
    “Um, I just got out of the hospital after an OD.”
    “I know. But that was because you didn’t listen to Jazmon.”
    She wanted to ask him why he was being so generous with his good stuff. But maybe Trevor really was that good and regular a customer that he rated the preferential treatment and perks from his supplier.
    Zara remembered the clothes in the closet, all quality materials and labels, just like what Trevor had on when he’d OD’d. Then there was the computer set-up and all the paraphernalia in the house that led her to believe Trevor was into some serious computer programming business on the