We walk into the Lost Coast Brewery and get seated immediately. Our waiter, who seems overjoyed to be serving us, doesn’t bother carding Nick when he orders a beer. They shake hands like they know each other. I don’t know why this still surprises me—everyone knows Nick Marino. He might as well have his face on a dollar bill.

I try to hide any sign that the pill I took is kicking in. I place my tongue in between my teeth to keep from grinding and attempt to limit my fidgeting by sitting on my hands. I smile like my jaw doesn’t ache as Nick talks about the party he’s throwing for his birthday.

Focus, Dani. He’s talking about getting Audiodub to play the party. Oh no, that fell through. He’s getting a DJ from one of the radio stations based in San Francisco. “That’s awesome.” I sit up and lean towards the table like I’m really excited. I am. I love parties. Especially parties that involve thizz. And Nick plans on making sure his party is epic. While Nick rambles about DJs, I drink half my soda and get a little rush from the caffeine. Our waiter returns a few minutes later and places a plate of nachos on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else.” Nick sends him away and digs into the pile of soggy chips.

We eat without much conversation. Nick continues talking about his birthday. He’s working up to something, I can tell. He runs his hand nervously through his hair several times. “When I turn eighteen, I get a small inheritance,” he says as our waiter reappears.

“Can I get you another beer?” The waiter asks as he lifts Nick’s glass from the table. Nick orders a second beer and I decide to try one. Our eager waiter promises the Raspberry Brown Ale is a favorite of all the ladies and disappears to get our drinks.

“I’m going to use the money to go into business with my uncle.” He clears his throat.

His uncle owns a bar in North Beach, a few blocks from where I used to live. “You want to invest in your uncle’s bar?”

“Well, sort of. His real business is…” he stops when our waiter returns with our drinks.

He sets the glasses on the table and says they are compliments of the gentlemen at the bar. “They said this round is on them.” We turn towards the bar, and two large men in leather vests wave at us from across the restaurant.

“Let’s go.” Nick pulls out a wad of cash. The bundle has to be at least four inches thick. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and tosses it on the table. “Keep the change,” he says. He stands so quickly his chair falls backwards onto the floor. All the color seems to have drained from Nick’s face. He takes my hand and I stumble towards the exit.

“Hey thanks,” the waiter yells as we bolt out the door.

I try like hell to keep up with Nick as we weave through the crowded sidewalk. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” he yells over his shoulder. “Hurry up.” Nick is always so chill, like nothing bothers him. Something about those men scared him. And it’s scaring me.

“Nick, where you off to so fast, buddy?”

Nick’s back stiffens beside me, but he keeps walking. I turn around and see the two men from the bar following us. I run the last few yards to the car.

“Yeah, we were just about to come over and have a drink with ya,” the other one says.

For old fat guys, they sure walk fast. Nick stops at my door and unlocks it with his key. Having an old car without automatic door locks really sucks when you’re being chased. The lock pops open and Nick hurries to his side to get in. I push the little button on the silver handle to open the door, and I feel a hand on my back. My entire body freezes.

“Let me get that for you, honey.” I step away from the scruffy-faced man as he opens my door. “I just need to talk to your boyfriend for a minute,” he says with a twisted smile. I look at Nick. He’s standing with his car door open, watching the bikers closely. He nods for me to get in the car. I shake my head no. There is no way I’m getting in the car while these men confront Nick. I’m helpless in there. At least out here I can run for help if I have to. Plus, my adrenaline is pumping so hard I can’t keep still. I feel like I’m about to explode.

“Suit yourself,” the man says and walks towards Nick’s side of the car. His vest has “DEVILS GOLD” written across the back.

The other man has already joined Nick on the other side of the car. He is shorter than his friend, but just as burly.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks Nick.

“Santa Clause,” Nick smirks. He doesn’t sound worried anymore. A minute ago he was dragging me down the street to get away from these two men, and now he’s mouthing off. I’ll never understand why men, boys, males in general, have to act the exact opposite of how they feel.

“He’s got jokes, Teddy,” the shorter one says.

“Yeah, he’s a fuckin comedian. Are you a comedian, Nicky?” His face is so close to Nick’s, it looks like he’s going to kiss his cheek. “Or are you just some punk high school baller?”

Nick flinches when Teddy wraps his arm around his shoulders. “What the fuck do you want?”

I don’t think Teddy the biker is used to this kind of disrespect. “Your little after-school job is fucking up my business.”

What after-school job? Nick doesn’t work.

“Last time I checked, Humboldt County was an open market,” Nick challenges. I wish he would keep the attitude to a minimum. Pissing off these two men doesn’t look like a good idea.

The small guy shifts and clears Nick’s line of sight. When Nick sees the terrified look on my face, he pushes Teddy’s arm off his shoulders.

“Do you know who I am?” Nick sticks his chest out and stands a little taller, but he’s still several inches shorter than Teddy. The men look stunned at Nick’s sudden burst of confidence. Neither of them answers Nick’s rhetorical question. Nick spins his keys on his finger and says, “Why don’t you ask around, then come back and see me.” He pushes past the short guy and opens the door. “Get in.” He flashes me a reassuring smile. I jump in the car and slam the door. The sound of the car coming to life forces Teddy and his partner to back up. Like me, the bikers are in shock.

As we pull away from the curb, Nick rolls down his window and yells, “Thanks for the beer!” Then he punches the gas, leaving the men in a cloud of white smoke.

The drive to Lucy’s is a blur. Nick barely hits the brakes the entire way. He watches the rear view mirror to make sure we aren’t being followed. I don’t say a word until we pull into Lucy’s driveway.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask him.

“Yeah, we should lie low for a minute.” He smiles and opens his door. He’s acting like nothing is wrong, but I hear anxiety in his voice. “We need to talk.”

I look at the pictures of my parents hanging around the room, and I could care less about Nick asking questions about my family. I sit on the edge of Lucy’s couch and brace myself for whatever it is Nick is trying to tell me. He paces from the window to the couch, running his hand through his hair. He finally turns around and says, “I sell thizz.”

You know when you watch a movie and a bomb goes off, and special effects shows the impact as a pulse that jolts a room, blowing hair back, shattering glass, and knocking someone on their ass? That’s what it felt like when Nick said those three words to me. Boom! My mind has officially been blown.

“You sell thizz,” I repeat to make sure I heard him right. “You’re the drug dealer?” I choke on the words. He nods once; his lips are pressed into a line. He’s waiting for me to blow up or freak out. I try to keep my expression calm and even because I honestly don’t know what I’m feeling.

As if on cue, his phone rings. Only now, I know why. He shoves his hand in the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone. He checks the number and turns off the ringer. “My uncle Will, the one in San Francisco, got me started.” He runs his hand through his hair. “This is what I wanted to tell you at the restaurant. I want to tell you everything about me.”