BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Sixteen

I swallow harshly at the faded ink.

"Can I help you?" His gruff voice asks.

"Yeah, Jay sent me," I hesitate, trying to sound more confident than I actually am.

I feel like such a little bitch right now, my tough facade is nearly cracking.

"What's your name?"

"Why does it matter?" I grimace.

I don't need this guy knowing my name. I want to finish my business and get the hell out of here.

The man opens the door a little wider and steps up to me intimidatingly. "What is your name?" He repeats, in a harsher tone than the first time.

"Harry," I stammer, struggling to keep contact with his intense eyes.

He nods stiffly and steps back inside to let me in. I walk slowly through the dingy doorway and take in my surroundings.

The walls and the floor are made of stained, grey concrete, and large fluorescent light fixtures hang from the high ceiling. There are a few doors scattered throughout the long hallway. A single door at the very end is cracked open just a bit. I can't make out anything inside the room, all I can see is a bright, warm light illuminating from the space.

I feel a large hand grip me by the arm and yank me forward. "Hey, get off me!" I protest.

I attempt to pull out of the man's grasp, but I'm useless against the firm hold he has on me. He doesn't say anything as he continues to lead me closer to the door.

I can almost hear my heavy heartbeat as we approach the entrance, and he shoves me through the doorway so hard I almost fall right on my face.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?!" I spit, sending a glare towards the asshole.

"You're the one Jay sent?" I hear another voice speak up, startling me.

I swiftly turn my head to see a different man sitting down at a large table in the center of the room. He looks smaller than the other guy, he's wearing a dark suit with a short beard and his brown hair is slicked back. He looks much less intimidating, which makes me feel slightly relieved.

I stand up straight and nod my head. "Yeah, Harry," I grumble.

Now that the big guy knows my name, there's no point in trying to keep it to myself.

The man stands up from the table and makes his way over to me, holding out his hand for me to shake. "Charles, nice to meet you," he introduces himself as I take his hand.

His politeness is kind of unsettling seeing as though I was just manhandled by his bodyguard, or whatever the hell he is.

"Likewise," I mutter. I reach over and pull the bulky duffle bag off my shoulder and set it on the metal table, unzipping it in one swift movement. I want to get this over with as soon as possible. The whole situation is making me feel uneasy. "Jay didn't tell me what you wanted."

"All of it," he states.

I freeze, wondering if I heard him correctly. "All of it?" I stare at him with furrowed brows.

"Yes," he confirms, placing his hand on the bag firmly. "What is it? Twelve-hundred?"

My eyes widen in shock, and I struggle to find my words. Is he really taking all of this off of my hands at one time for two hundred dollars more than what it's worth?

He raises his brows at me, expecting an answer.

"Uh, yeah," I nod quickly, shoving the bag in his direction. "Twelve-hundred."