Between Now & Never Read Online Free PDF

yanking him back on track.
    “Because I stole from my family,” Vic blurts out. He brushes his thumb along his chin again, a nervous habit, I figure. Julianna’s outburst about stolen money the other day slides into place. Maybe she wasn’t making it up.
    “That was during a low point, a’ight? So don’t freaking lecture me. I know where to draw the line now. How to use, when to stop. My mom freaked, though, and signed me up for rehab—expensive rehab. And she got herself in prison trying to fund it. Feds took it all when they took her down.”
    I let out a deep breath. Heat mounts, silence stretches on. A cross hanging from the rearview mirror sways back and forth like it, too, is being pulled in opposite ways under the tension. Some moments feel surreal. You ask why and get nothing. Your question hangs in the air.
    When I was a kid everything seemed black and white. Now I wonder if sometimes the bad guys aren’t always what they seem.
    I open the door, my gut twisting as an underlying principle wars against that thought. I am who I am—a straitlaced FBI agent’s son. The agent who put Vic’s mom away. And I have no interest in drugs. I step out of the car.
    “Where are you going?” Vic asks, popping open his door and jumping out.
    I slam mine shut. “Home.”
    “Just like that, you’re out?” Vic huffs. “Some friend, Cody. Some friend you are.”
    I turn. “Some friend I am? You dupe me into a back-alley drug deal and then dis on me as a friend?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You don’t make sense, Vic. None of this does.”
    “You’re right, Cody. None of this makes sense to you . Rich boy. Got everything you ever want. You don’t understand a thing.”
    “Yeah, okay, let me tell you what I understand,” I say. “Your mom’s in prison. She got herself there trying to get you off drugs. And you do what? You sell drugs to pay back for your mistake?”
    “Shut it!” Vic yells. “Just shut your pretty-boy mouth and run on home.”
    Headlights flash around the corner of the building, signaling an approaching car. We both jerk back. I freeze.
    Shadows outline Vic’s eye sockets, making them look dark and hollow. “Get back in.”
    Fear rides on his voice, setting my nerves on edge. Vic has no idea what he’s doing. He’s terrified. Where does that leave me?
    I scoot up against the brick wall and give Vic a pointed look, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. “Trust me, Vic, I’m the last guy you want to be a part of this.”
    One call. That’s all it will take.
    “Get outta here,” Vic says.
    The rumble of the car amplifies as it makes the turn and starts toward us. If I bolt now, they’ll see me. At the last moment I slip around the corner of the building. I duck behind a jumble of grocery carts near the Dumpster and duck down. The car pulls up alongside Vic and stops. Red. A Porsche. Tinted windows. I can’t quite make out the plates.
    Trapped. I’ve pinned myself into a corner. I can’t make a run for it now.
    Dad is going to kill me.
    I second-guess my impulse to hide here. I second-guess everything.
    The passenger door opens and a man steps out. Black tank and jeans, flat-billed hat, a tattoo sleeve covering his entire arm. Caucasian. Strong. He actually doesn’t look much older than us. A second, shorter guy steps out from the driver’s side. Pale skin. A head of thick hair—a mullet. A cloud of smoke seeps from his mouth after he takes a long drag on a joint. “Vicky boy.”
    I whip out my iPhone. My thumb hovers over it, hesitating. My dad, police, my dad, police: the options ricochet in my mind before I go for something else entirely, the choice my brother Jimmy would have rooted for.
    I press record .
    My phone makes a bleep right as the driver slams his door shut, masking the sound. Quietly, I let out a long-held breath, fully aware that I’m doing what an eight-year-old Jimmy would have done in this situation: record the drug deal like a special agent wannabe—the last thing I