Falling Out of Time

Mark | Common Ground

Common Ground

"There's the man of the hour," Darren drawled as Mark rounded the back of the school. "Where's your partner?"

"Busy." He shrugged off his bag and threw it against the brick wall, nearly spilling his stuff all over again.

"Hope that's not a reflection of a bad day's work." Darren didn't look up from the bills in his hands. "How'd we do?"

"I'm not coming tomorrow."

"Jesus, not this shit again—"

"I mean it, Darren," Mark snapped. "I'm drawing a line here."

Sighing, Darren held out his hand. Mark stared back, then cursed under his breath and reached for his bag again. His earnings for the day were wrapped in a dingey sweatshirt so no one would snoop; pulling them out, they were almost embarrassing compared to Darren's.

"Look." Darren took the money and flipped through the bills, counting it out in his head. "You're barely doing anything, alright? Just grab the order from the pickup point, bring it to the dropoff point, then you're done. So simple, the instructions are in the name. You won't even touch the stuff."

Mark started to pace in hopes of burning off his anxiety. "That's not the point! I don't wanna be anywhere near it—"

Darren held up a finger and back tracked through the cash. Rolling his eyes, he restarted. "You know Anderson, I miss the days when you didn't talk. I kept count of my money better."

"This isn't what I signed up for. Weed, whatever. Coke...is coke." Mark ignored the way his heart leapt just saying it. That didn't mean anything. He had it under control. "But I'm not selling heroin."

Darren glanced up at him, his thumb pausing near the end of the stack. Leaning back against the brick, he rolled the dollars together, secured them with a rubber band, then held the wad out. "Go ahead and tell me what this looks like to you."

Mark stared at it blankly. "Is that a trick question? It's money."

"How about bills?" Darren tossed it between his hands. "This look like enough to pay your bills?"

"Fuck off." Mark swatted for the money, but Darren pulled it out of reach.

"Weed barely gets you anything. People are bored of it." Darren held up his own stack. "Coke gets you more, but let's face it, kids only buy when there's a party happening. Too unstable."

"And heroin isn't?" Mark asked incredulously. "Where did you find people to buy this stuff anyway?"

"Ah, now you see, that's something called none of your fuckin' business." He unsnapped Mark's stack and started counting out his share. "And yeah, dope's unstable, but the people who use it are worse. They need the shit, and when they hear someone's got the shit, they tend to buy a ton of shit to hold them over 'till someone else gets more shit. Now, you're the one who's stubborn and won't take money you don't work for, despite the fact I know you need it—"

Mark bristled. "I'm not a charity case—"

"— which is something you've made very clear, I assure you, right along with not working the actual drop. So, this is all I got. A cut of the profit, enough to hold you over for weeks, and little to no involvement. Best I can fuckin' do. Stop being an idiot and take it."

Mark weighed his options, never once letting his gaze move from Darren. It was hard to pinpoint when their dynamic changed, but gone were the days Mark cowered at the sight of him. In a weird twist of events, Darren had become someone Mark understood, maybe better than anyone else.

He was still a dick, though — especially when he was right.

"In and out." Mark said finally. "I don't sell it. Deal?"

"Let's leave the deal makin' to me, alright? Just bring the supply two hours before they're supposed to be there. I don't want any surprises when everything goes down."

Mark studied Darren for any sign of nerves. "You're really gonna do it. Try heroin."

Darren shrugged, but Mark noticed his fingers slip on the last few dollars as he finished counting. "Drugs are drugs, Anderson. They're all the fuckin' same." Pocketing the remainder, Darren held out a stack of twenties, Mark's eighty percent. "Speaking of drugs, any product left over from last night?"

Mark considered lying. It was barely anything, just a dime bag, not enough to even be worth Darren's time. He won't miss it, he thought to himself.

But that's not what someone in control would do, and Mark was in control. He chanted a mantra in his head to drive the point home.

I don't need it. I don't need it.

"Just a ten bag." Mark pulled it from his pocket, still there from his run in with Carter. Thinking the name made his stomach dip with guilt, remembering what he said about the CPS call — about Mark.

I'm tired of pretending to hate you when I don't. Aren't you?

Darren snapped his fingers. "C'mon, c'mon, let's wrap this up. I've got other dealers to meet and a party to prep for tomorrow." He waved the money for emphasis.

Mark suppressed further thoughts of Carter and snatched his pay from Darren. He tried to hand over the dime, but Darren levelled him with a look.

"She have a good night last night?"

The question took Mark by surprise, but he wasn't shocked that he asked it. The idea of talking freely about his mom still freaked him out, and to Darren of all people. If someone told Mark as a kid he'd someday find common ground with his bully, he would've called them crazy.

And yet, here they were. Doing something crazy.

Mark averted his gaze. "What's a good night anymore?"

Darren didn't pry for the details. Gesturing towards the coke, he collected his own things. "The hell I need an extra ten bucks for? Sell it," he nudged Mark as he walked past, "or don't. Do what you gotta do. Remember, tomorrow, two hours before."

Mark knew he should refuse — but he didn't. Fingering the thick plastic, Mark fought to keep his heart rate steady. He was supposed to meet Amber after detention, but there were at least twenty minutes left of her sentence. That was enough time, right? He'd do it quick, then meet her on the front steps. Just a bump.

Maybe two.

I don't need it... I just want it.

"And, uh, Mark."

Startled, Mark looked up. He had forgotten Darren was even there.

"Count your blessings. Remember what I always say, alright? Be thankful it's your mom." Darren's face went stoic before he walked out of sight, leaving Mark to fill in the rest.

Be thankful it's your mom — dads hit harder.