a/n: listen to song at the side for full effect.
My name was quite ironic giving that Mary Jane was exactly what I stole. I’d always been that way. Pick pocketing was my way of life. It was how I made my way in this Godforsaken hell hole that we occupy. I had watched this man for about a week. I knew when and where he’d appear with how much he’d have on him. Right now was the time for make my move.
The curly hair man leaned against the hood of his car. He was odd for a dealer. He never touched what he dealt. Logically, he used this money for cocaine or something else I had done that a couple times-it helped with the pain. I noticed how he clutched his coat tighter to him, I didn’t blame him, it was freezing. I needed to be quick, sell quick, and head back to the shelter.
I didn’t want to hurt him though, that was the last thing I wanted to do. He was an attractive guy with his dark curls and muscular build. A shiver raked through my body and I doubted how much it had to do with the cold air.
The buyer approached causing me to creep closer. The two laughed, I guess one said something funny, and he offered up the plastic bag that held smokable cash. The buyer left now was my time. His first buyer was set up, others just showed up. I silently crept across the snow thankful for the muted cushion that it brought my footsteps.
I turned the glass bottle over in my hand before throwing it on the side of the alley way. His curly head perked up at the sound, while his lanky figure slinked across the alley to discover what moved. Quickly I sprinted to the backseat of his car grabbing the measured out bags. I stuffed them repeatedly into my tattered bag.
Squatting and getting ready to assume my stance, a deep, husky voice called out, “Oi, what do you think you’re doing?”
Jumping up I turned feeling the cold seeping through the knees of my jeans. Staring back to me was him. I’d never seen his face and that paired with his husky tone made him more intimidating. My mouth floundered open as I stared in shock trying to work up the nerve to run but couldn’t. He pushed me back toward the car, flush against the cool frame. I could feel his tight, heavy breaths against my abdomen.
“This is how I make money, okay? If you’re that desperate for it, just pay me.”
“I-I don’t have any.” I stuttered my teeth chattering in fear and cold.
“You’re that addicted?” there was a flicker of concern in his cat like eyes, his hot breath filling the night air like smoke.
“N-no. I s-steel it, t-to sell, I l-live in the homeless s-shelter. I-I’ve always done this.” I managed to choke out feeling hot tears on my skin.
In an instant his demeanor changed. He retreated shrugging his coat off and throwing it around me. “I’m sorry for snapping like that. I’m Harry and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to help you.”
“I-I’m Mary Jane, and I’d like that.” Harry offered a smile at me revealing tight dimples.
“Ironic. Let’s go back to my place.” Maybe that wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was the only way I was getting out of the shelter, so I gladly stepped inside his car enjoying the heat. “I’ll take care of you.” He assured me making me melt into the seat.