Industry (Part 1) - Completed

This party was exactly like the last one. The same loud music, the same spilled drinks, the same dim lights and hot girls. Nothing had changed, and that was exactly what PJ liked about it.

His parents had tried to stop him when he slipped out after dinner. Apparently, family game night was a tradition whenever Payton came home. But Payton had covered for him, saying he was "helping a classmate with a paper," a girl named Isabella. His mom had told him to be home by 10:30. It was already 10:10, but Payton had texted to let him know both parents were asleep.

That was a good thing, because PJ was a little higher than usual. He was in the middle of a beer pong game. Him and Andy against a blonde and a red head. The stakes were high: losers had to strip first. The blonde girl was clinging to his leather jacket, laughing at something the redhead had said. Blake was making his rounds, offering up what he had for sale. PJ didn’t have any cash, so Andy had spotted him. Now two little white pills were tucked into his pocket, and PJ felt the familiar heat spreading through his veins.

Life was good—he was winning, he was high, and the night was just beginning.

That was when the screaming started.

PJ’s eyes snapped to the front door. Through the glass, flashing blue lights danced, sending an icy shock of reality through his system. Without thinking, he grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled him toward the back door. The house erupted into chaos, with people scrambling, yelling, and running in every direction. It was a mess, but PJ and Andy pushed their way through the crowd and out the back.

They bolted through the yard, jumped a fence, and made their way across a couple of neighbor’s yards. For the next half hour, they stayed in the shadows, avoiding the road, until they were a mile or so away from the busted party.

"Man, that was crazy," Andy said, breathless. He brushed off his letterman jacket like he was shaking off invisible dust. "Say, did we tell those chicks our names?"

"Nope," PJ muttered, tugging his friend away from the curb.

"Good. Good. Not very chivalrous of us to ditch them though, they’re probably pissed."

PJ just shrugged. He didn’t care. He was too busy processing the adrenaline still thrumming in his veins.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the pair as they walked, the weight of the night sinking in. When they reached PJ’s house, they snuck in through the back door. Once inside, Andy started pacing around PJ’s room, like he couldn’t sit still.

"I can't crash here, man," Andy said suddenly, breaking the silence.

PJ raised an eyebrow. "Why? You good to walk home, or do you want me to call you an Uber?"

Andy didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled a ziplock baggie from his pocket, his eyes flicking nervously around the room. It was full of pills—far more than PJ had expected.

PJ swore under his breath. "That’s a lot, man. Everything okay at home?" It was meant to be a joke.

Andy hesitated, his eyes darting away. "Actually, my mom's sick again." He stared down at the pills in his hand, then quickly looked back at PJ. "But that's not why I got them." He swallowed hard, voice dropping. "I’m fine. They’re for the team. Blake said I could be his official rep, keep some of the profits."

PJ didn’t know how to react. "So what? You’re a drug dealer now?"

Andy’s gaze flickered uncomfortably. "It’s just a little side thing. It’s not like that, just for buddies. You know?"

PJ stared at him, the weight of Andy's words settling over him like a thick fog. The tension hung in the air as the reality of Andy's situation became clear. This was more than just reckless; this was desperate.

"Your dad is literally a cop, man!" PJ whisper-yelled, "Isn't he in the K9 unit?"

Andy sighed, "Yeah, maybe. It's whatever, I just.... It's not a big deal. You know?"

There was a lot he was supposed to know, and he wasn't sure he did. But PJ thought of the pills tucked in his back pocket and nodded. He did know. Kinda. So, he nodded.

"Anyway," Andy continued, "like I said, Mom's not doing great, and you know I can't keep this at my place with Dad and Stryder. Can I just stash it here?"

It was all too much—too fast. But as always, PJ pushed the consequences away and shook his head. "Whatever, man. Just… don’t get caught."

Andy didn’t answer, his face grim, and PJ couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more, something he wasn’t saying.

Andy took off shortly after.