꒰ 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ
Bianca gazed up at the shitty, run-down shack of a house and gulped audibly, "Rafe, what the hell are we doing here?"
"B," Rafe warned lowly, putting the kickstand down and helping the girl off the bike, "For once in your life, I need you to keep your mouth shut."
The girl narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to disagree, but she took once glance at burly salt-lifers with unruly beards and cold beers in their hands before nodding quickly.
Satisfied with her compliance, Rafe threw an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, "Stay close to me, okay?"
Bianca didn't respond, instead she was trying to avoid the dirty stares of the unruly men leering at her against the porch and found herself pulling her sage-colored sundress further down. Loud rap music blasted from within the house as they walked up the front steps, the wooden boards creaking beneath Bianca's white sneakers.
They passed an older looking man with a five o'clock shadow in a sweat-stained tank, "You should pop that collar, bro," He mocked, his breath reeking of beer. Rafe glared, but knew better than to start something he couldn't finish and ushered his girlfriend who was having a hard time biting her tongue.
"Hey, Barry!" Rafe called to the group sitting around the couch on the front porch and a man with a greasy ponytail and ripped singlet top stood up.
"Hey, Country Club," Barry grinned, a gold tooth glinting in the afternoon sunlight spilling through the window.
"What's up, bro?" Rafe nodded and Bianca frowned, even more confused how her boyfriend knew these people.
"What's good with you, man?" Barry strutted over before his eyes caught the girl's, "And who's this pretty li'l thing?"
Bianca had to stifle a comment about her not being a 'thing,' but Rafe quickly interjected, "This is my girl, B," and if the situation wasn't so anxiety-inducing, the butterflies inside Bianca's chest may have fluttered– but they were too busy choking on second-hand smoke.
"What's up, B?" Barry grinned down at the girl while patting Rafe on the back in a side-hug, "Name's Barry."
"Yeah," Bianca said simply as she shook his mud stained hands and couldn't help but scowl at the dirt underneath his fingernails.
"Should've worn a wife beater," Rafe joked, but there was some underlying truth beneath it. Back in Figure Eight, the Cameron name warranted respect, but down here on the Cut, wearing a polo shirt gave everyone the green light to spit on your shoes.
"You couldn't beat nobody, Rafe," Barry chuckled, leading them inside the house, "Come on."
The music became louder as they entered as did the smell of weed, the tables were lined with empty beer bottles and on the couches lay more men with joints between their fingers. Bianca wrung her hands together as they headed into one of the bedrooms, passing a few women in skimpy tops and piercings in places Bianca's mother would have a heart attack over.
"A'ight, let's see what we got here," Barry clapped his hands together before opening up a duffle bag, "Excuse the mess, B, if I knew you were coming over I'd have cleaned up a little."
He was clearly joking, but Rafe wasn't having it, "Watch it, man."
"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twist," Barry chuckled lowly before pulling out an eight ball of a white, powdery substance, "And voilà!" He announced.
Bianca's heart dropped, "Coke?" She scoffed, turning to glare at her boyfriend, "Are you fucking kidding me, Rafe?"
"Ooh," Barry hummed with a smirk, "She's got a mouth on her, Country Club."
Rafe jaw clenched, whispering lowly in her ear, "See? This is exactly why I didn't want to bring you- just let me handle it."
Bianca narrowed her eyes, but didn't say more as Barry waved the bag around, "This what we're looking for?"
"Yeah," Rafe nodded quickly, removing his arm from Bianca's shoulder to shove it into his pockets, "Yeah."
"You got that cabbage?" Barry raised his eyebrows, dropping the coke to his side.
"So.." Rafe trailed off, "I was hoping for a little credit."
"Oh, fuck," Barry shook his head, looking exasperated, "You're hoping in the wrong place."
"You do know how fast I'll move that, right? Who has my access?" Rafe pleaded, "Bro, I'll be back here in- shoot- two days, tops."
Bianca had to stifle a scoff as he said this, but the way Rafe's eyes darted wildly, his breath erratic, she knew he needed this more than he was letting on.
"No- no way," Barry shook his head, his lips pursed in a thin line, "If you can't pay up- get the fuck outta here, kid."
"Please, man—"
"I'm not doing charity work- a'ight- I got my own shit-" Barry scowled, but before he could continue, Bianca quickly interjected.
"He'll give you his bike as collateral," She spoke lowly, but it commanded the attention of both boys who's gazes snapped towards her.
"My bike-" Rafe began, his mouth hung slightly agape while Barry smirked as if imagining himself riding away to the sunset on her boyfriend's new motorcycle.
"If he doesn't get you the money, you can have his bike," Bianca reiterated, arms folded across her chest while Barry gave her a once over.
"The bike, huh?" Barry scoffed with a sleazy grin as he began packing the eight balls in the duffle again, "Y'know- she's good at this, Country Club, keep her around."
"Yeah," Rafe, upon realising that he'd be getting the coke after all, also began smiling like an idiot, "Yeah."
"But let me tell you something man, you screw me, it's not just me that you're screwin," Barry warned lowly, handing the girl the bag.
"Whatever," Bianca muttered, shoving the duffle bag hard against her boyfriend's chest.
"Heard, man. Loud and clear," Rafe nodded quickly while his girlfriend roller her eyes.
Barry gave Bianca a lasting smirk as the two began leaving, "You got balls, girl. I'll give you that. Two days."
"I got you. Have a little faith in me, Barry," Rafe continued, "I appreciate it, thanks for coming through, bro!"
"B-holy shit," Rafe whispered down to her excitedly as they headed outside and down the porch steps, "B- you're the best-"
When they were further enough away from Barry's, Bianca whirled around with a deathly glare, "So what- you're pushing now!?"
Coke, molly, dope– it was all common at kook parties and Bianca had nothing against drugs– she was just too much of a control-freak to use mind-altering substances. She didn't have a problem with it and those who chose to participate in it's usage, but she crossed the line at selling, especially when it came to her boyfriend. Some had been forced into that kind of lifestyle, but the Cameron name alone amounted to more wealth and privilege than the island itself– he had no reason to partake in the repetitive cycle of highs, lows and overdoses except feeding his impending addiction.
"B- just listen to me, okay?" Rafe ground out, dropping the bag onto the bike before turning back to her.
"What?" She ignored him, "Daddy cut you off so you're selling to minors now- is that it?!"
"Fuck me," Rafe groaned, running his hands through his blond strands in annoyance, "When did I start dating the fun police?"
"The fun police- that's really fucking mature of you!" She snarled, beginning to walk away, but he quickly gripped her wrist and pulled her back.
"Hey- what the fuck is your problem!?" Rafe spat, his fingers digging into her skin, "You helped me out back there and now you're just going to walk away-"
"It's one thing to do it," She sneered, ripping her arm away from him, "But it's another thing to sell it- and to a bunch of kids, Rafe. You could really fuck up someone's life- or your own, don't you get that!?"
"Oh my god- enough of your 'holier than thou' act, okay?" He yelled, towering over her, "You're not a fucking saint, you've done this shit too-"
"You have a chance to be independent- be someone other than Ward Cameron's screw up kid and you're going to throw it all away to get high?!"
"You don't know what you're talking about-"
"And at Topper's party-"
"Topper's cool with it," Rafe spat.
"Look, if you need the money-"
"I don't need the money!" Rafe shouted finally. The two glared at each other, both breathing heavily after the argument. His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as the seconds passed and only when Bianca glanced away did their stare-off end.
She scoffed, "Whatever, Rafe- do what you want," she feigned nonchalance, though she really, really did care about what he did.
Rafe felt his shoulder's untense slightly, giving the girl a once over, "My bike- really?" He said with a sigh.
"Then don't be late," Bianca said simply before getting on the motorcycle.
author's note. jj will be back soon guys dw hehe