Chapter 7
THE MORNING AFTER his disastrous Hillway volunteering, Rajan takes the bus to work.
Today they’re starting a big project: redoing the roofs of buildings at the university.
His bus is filled with UBCO students hoisting laptop bags and Starbucks cups.
With his hood up, as he listens to them complain about exams and deadlines, he can almost pretend he’s one of them.
Yeah, Rajan knows a thing or two about deadlines. He’s got thirty-two hours until his.
Nick’s words swirl through his head as the bus screeches to a stop.
The UBCO students head to campus, while he alone walks toward the dorms and the construction site.
He nods at Trevor, one of the friendlier roofers who handled his orientation, before joining their task of ripping out the old roof.
He works quickly, all the while scanning the ground far below.
As if Nick might show up here, too, as another reminder.
He wants to believe Nick’s threats were bluffs. They’ve spent a lot of time together—collecting debts and, in between, shooting the shit. But did Rajan ever really know him?
The first time they met, Rajan was wasted. It was July, high school had just ended, and he was in Surrey with his mom. Except, he wasn’t with his mom right then. He was at a party, trying to forget the latest doctor’s grim news: His mom’s body was rejecting the transplant.
While he was staring into space, some dude sat next to him. He tapped the empty bottles next to Rajan.
“Want something better than this?”
The guy wore a leather jacket, diamond studs in his ears. An LS tattoo crawled up his neck. Rajan looked down to see he was being offered a bag of white powder. “I don’t have money.”
“This one’s on the house. You look like you need it.” He patted Rajan’s shoulder. “I’m Nick.”
Rajan took it without further questions and did a line right there. His face instantly went pleasantly numb. Nick watched, and then: “What would you say if I told you that you could make money to buy more?”
Despite the euphoric feeling now spreading to his mind, Rajan shook his head. Dealing lost its appeal in high school. “Not interested.”
“You sure?” Nick pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. “I made this in one night. One night.”
Rajan stared at the cash helplessly. It was a lot.
Nick went on. “I collect debts. Take a little interest, too.” A flash of white teeth. “Call it my commission.”
“And they just hand it over if you ask nicely, huh?”
“I ask really nicely.”
Rajan knew what that meant, but right then, he didn’t care.
He could use the money. Looking back, he wishes he could say he was thinking selfless things when he considered it.
Like, he could buy stuff for his brothers, or give it to his aunt as a thank-you for hosting him and his mom, or help with the mortgage.
But he wasn’t. He thought about one thing only.
“Give me another line and I’m in,” he said.
Nick leaned sideways to address someone behind him. “Zohra! Get my man Rajan some more chitta.”
“Sure thing,” said a husky, feminine voice. Slender arms slid around Rajan’s shoulders and made him feel drunk in an entirely different way.
Later, Rajan would wonder how Nick knew his name.
He’d learn that Nick and Zohra had him marked the minute he’d used his LS connections to find that party.
Before he even walked in, they knew exactly who he was, how he couldn’t afford his own taste in drugs, and what he used to do for the Lions in Kelowna.
And they’d decided he could be put to work here, too.
And if Nick was that cutthroat then...their brief friendship doesn’t matter. He won’t hesitate to put a bullet between Rajan’s eyes at all.
Rajan wipes the sweat off his brow. Holy hell.
Is this how sober people feel all the time?
High-strung and scattered, like the world could fall on their heads at any moment?
The smoke floating over from his coworkers has never been so tempting.
If he were just relaxed enough, maybe he’d be able to think through a solution.
Or maybe somebody would narc on him and he’d go to jail over a joint. Nick would probably die laughing.
Trevor yells up at him. “Kid! You gonna spend all night up there?”
He looks up. The sun is lower in the sky. Somehow, he spent all day working. He didn’t even take a break. Time passes fast on a deadline.
He slides down his ladder, and when he gets to the bottom, a girl’s voice sounds from behind him.
“Rajan Randhawa, is that you?”
The voice is familiar, and when he turns, so is the face. A gorgeous Indian girl with long straight hair, a wicked smile, and a fashion sense for weather at least ten degrees warmer than this. She draws closer, and his coworkers give her second looks. Chandani Sharma has that effect.
Although she’s one of those popular girls who probably hit her peak in high school, she’s not actually a total bitch.
He knows this because Simran’s cool with her.
And if Simran is, so is he. Even if she used to buy weed from Zach Singer instead of him.
“Chandani, I thought you’d be on a runway by now. ”
“And I thought you’d be in prison.”
He flashes her a grin. “I think your guess was closer than mine.”
She doesn’t ask for an explanation. She’s too busy looking him over—eyes skating over his orange hoodie, his dusty cargo pants with caulking on the knees, his work boots, and then back up. “Are you...a construction worker?”
“Roofer. You go to UBCO?” She nods. Figures. Everybody he knew in high school has gone on to bigger and better things. “What do you study?”
“Wish I knew. Then I wouldn’t have flunked that exam I just took.” Chandani flips her hair. “Selling anything fun these days?”
She’s standing a little too close, but he doesn’t move away. He’s starting to get some interesting signals. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“That’s too bad.” Chandani casually brushes dust off his shoulder. He can practically feel the other roofers’ eyes on them. “Guess I have to find some healthy coping strategies now.”
“Let me know if you do. I wanna try smoking them in a pipe.” Chandani snickers, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. His curiosity overpowers him. “What do you need coping strategies for?”
She shrugs. “Do you ever feel like you’re in over your head?”
Twenty-three hours left. “Nah. I’m a chill dude.”
She leans against the ladder. “Lately I’ve realized I don’t know what I’m doing here. At university. It feels like everyone knows except me.”
It’s unsettling, how much he’s relating suddenly to Chandani Sharma. “Maybe university just isn’t your thing.”
“What else would I do? Work in construction?” She snorts. “Is that your life’s calling?”
“Is flunking out of school your life’s calling?”
She glares. “You’re such an asshole.” Rajan grins and turns to go, but her voice stops him. “You’re off now, right? Wanna hang out?”
He turns back. He’s got a meeting with Kat in, like, two hours, but...“Why?”
She sighs. “God, boys are so brainless. Do you wanna have sex or not?”
Subtlety’s never been Chandani’s strong suit. But he wanted to be sure. And, well, he has a feeling she needs a distraction just as much as he does.
He faces her fully. “You know, I went to juvie.” Chandani says nothing. “For drug trafficking. Weapons possession. And...murder.”
He waits for her alarm, for her to step away, to make excuses and leave. But Chandani’s expression doesn’t change. “So? I already knew all this.”
He stares. “You...don’t care?”
“Why would I? Let’s go.” Her nails sink into his hoodie like claws. His coworkers hoot in the background. “And definitely bring the hard hat.”
Two hours later, Rajan’s back in the elevator up to the corrections department.
He leans his head against the wall, watching the numbers go up and wanting to kick something.
Why did Kat set their meeting so late on a Friday, anyway?
According to the judge, he has to come running whenever Kat calls—and she’s scheduled these to happen once a week.
Which feels like a waste of time. Of which he already has very little.
And no, that didn’t bother him with Chandani earlier. She got his mind off things for a while. But after she kicked him out of her house, saying he was the last person she wanted to be caught with, it felt like he’d wasted an hour he could’ve spent figuring out his dilemma with the Lions.
Less than a day left. He’s completely screwed.
As Rajan walks through the waiting room, another guy emerges from the hallway on his way out.
Rajan remembers him from last time. He’s bigger than Rajan, older too, with gothic-font tattoos running down his arms: REIGN IN HELL, the motto of the Silver Aces, wrapped in serpents.
Unsubtle and unoriginal. But the Lions’ main rivals have always been that way.
No words are exchanged as they pass each other, but Rajan sees the fuck you in Snake Tattoo’s glare loud and clear. He hopes he radiates it, too.
Damn, maybe this gang psychology thing they talked about in juvie was legit.
Kat’s waiting in her office with her usual batshit smile. Her dress today is checkered, her long blond hair pulled back into that same low ponytail. “Welcome, Rajan. Any plans for the weekend?”
“Just counting down the hours.”
She chuckles. “I’m sure. How was Hillway yesterday?”
Rajan tenses. Shit. He totally forgot about that. If he apologizes first, maybe they’ll let him stay? He doesn’t want a mark on his record already.
“Listen, I—” he says at the same time Kat says, “I heard nothing, so I assume it went smoothly. What were you saying?”
“Nothing.” Rajan glues his jaw shut. He’d thought they were writing him up, but maybe not.
Kat studies him. “How’s your mentor? Simran?”
His mood sours instantly. He plucks a toothpick from his pocket and sticks it between his teeth. “She’s all right.”
“Did you get along?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he mutters. “She barely spoke to me.” It hurts to even say. But he’d better get used to it. This is how it’s going to be from now on.
“If she’s treating you poorly—”
“I said she’s all right,” he says forcefully. “Can we talk about something else?”
After a long pause, Kat flips a page in her file. “Have you heard from the Lion’s Share?”
Rajan stops chewing on his toothpick. Yes, he asked for a topic change, but where did this come from? “How would you know if I did?”
“We rely on you to tell us.”
She doesn’t look up, and he resumes rolling the toothpick between his teeth. This is clearly a routine question. And a stupid one. “You think I’d tell you if I breached probation?”
“Yes.” Kat offers another unnerving smile. “Because you wouldn’t want me to find out some other way. Such as upon your arrest. I’d rather be able to help before that.”
He scoffs. “And how would you help?”
“Well, for example, we could relocate you again.”
“Relocate?”
“Yes. Just like how you were relocated to Kelowna for probation. Move you somewhere you can avoid negative influences and instead be surrounded by positive reinforcements.” At his blank look, she clarifies, “Social supports, family. Can you think of another place like that?”
He finds himself considering the question seriously. When he was younger and doing stupid shit constantly, his parents debated moving him across the country, to live with his father’s side of the family in Halifax. He doesn’t know them well, though. “I dunno. Maybe.”
Kat tilts her head, eyes glinting. “If you need that, I could do the paperwork in a day.”
Rajan sits back. He moved back to Kelowna because Vancouver was crawling with Lions. But the Lions just found him again. And even if Halifax was too far for them, who’s to say they wouldn’t retaliate some other way?
Nick’s not-threats toward his brothers ring through his head again.
“Rajan?” He looks up to find Kat watching him intently. “Do you think you’re in danger here?”
Of course he’s in danger. Either the system or the Lions will screw him over.
But...the system will only punish him, not his family. He can’t guarantee the same for the Lions.
And suddenly the choice seems very clear indeed.
“No.” Rajan tosses the toothpick in the trash. “No, there’s no danger anymore.”