Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) by Marita A. Hansen Page A

since I only had a few days left to pay the
power bill before the electricity was cut off. But it didn’t matter now,
because things were finally going my way. The client would pay me; I’d pass on
two portions to my cousin, then use whatever was left over for the power bill
and groceries. Everyone would be happy, but most of all I’d be happy.
    I drew closer to the pub, its car park chocker.
Vehicles lined the side roads as well as the mall’s parking area, the place
pumping with activity. I gripped onto my backpack, keeping an eye out for my
customer. I came to a stop in the car park, spotting her white Beemer. It stuck
out from the blue-collared cars, an angel amongst demons. It was just asking to
be keyed. I’d told her not to bring the Beemer. It attracted too much
attention, which in turn attracted attention to me, making my job harder.
    “Cutie pie!”
    I cringed at Sierra’s voice. What the
fuck? You called a drug dealer cutie pie ?
    She tottered towards me in six-inch
stilettos that matched her whiter than white hair. She had a banging body,
which was swathed in an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weenie white dress, her huge tits
doing their best to escape the confines of the material. For a moment, I forgot
about what she’d called me, my eyes locked onto her twin peaks.
    Sierra pulled me into a hug, squishing her
tits against my chest, giving me a partial boner. “I missed you, baby boy,” she
said. “Long time no see.”
    “Good to see you too,” I said, taking full
advantage of her hug, my hands moving to her arse.
    She laughed and pulled away, wagging a
finger at me. “You’re a naughty boy.”
    I grinned.
    She laughed again, then looked over her
shoulder, indicating for the blonde behind her to come closer. The woman moved
to Sierra’s side, her expression shy.
    “This is Camie,” Sierra said. “She’s my BFF.”
    I held out my hand for her to shake. “Nice
to meet ya,” I said, thinking she looked a bit like my new English teacher,
just older and a darker shade of blonde.
    Camie shook my hand nervously. “You’re
younger than I expected,” she said, letting go of my hand. “How old are you?”
    “Eighteen,” I lied.
    Relief crossed her face, a smile following
a second later. She turned to Sierra. “I’m in,” she said, looking both nervous
and excited at the same time.
    Sierra clapped her hands. “I knew you’d
like him.” She reached out and pinched my cheek. “How can anyone not like this gorgeous
face?”
    “Usually guys,” I replied. “For some strange
reason they have a problem with me stealing their girlfriends. I really don’t
know why.”
    Both women laughed.
    Sierra held out her keys to her friend.
“You’re driving.”
    After passing them over, she grabbed my
hand and yanked me to the car. Pulling open the door, she practically shoved me
into the back seat. I climbed in the rest of the way, pulling my backpack off
as I settled against the plush red leather. She closed the door and handed over
a paper bag full of money. I counted it, then stashed it into my backpack and
pulled out the coke as the other woman reversed out of the car park. Sierra
always took me back to my house after a deal, or more accurately, a street away
so my father didn’t see her car. If he’d caught me getting out of her Beemer, he’d
instantly know I was selling drugs. If anything, I should have met her somewhere
further away from Wera. Though, it was probably fine, since my father and his
mates didn’t go to this pub. Their lives largely revolved around our gang’s headquarters,
which had its own bar, a much better one than this blue-coloured haven. Plus,
civilian pubs didn’t sell drugs or sex, which was why a lot of the gang weren’t
interested in coming out here.
    Sierra opened the bag of coke as her
friend drove towards my house. She removed a sliver with her fingernail and
snorted it. She zipped the bag up and tilted her head back, doing a little
shake, looking as if she liked the