ON AIR by Hadley Quinn Page A

shaking his head. “Make her back off, alright?” 
    “You know who you’re dealing with, right? Derek Danzig is not the kind of guy you want to be in over your head with, okay? I knew him in high school. He doesn’t give a shit who you are or what he’s promised you, you’ll never get ahead, Davey. Just back away from it, man. Trust me on this. You need some help with bills or something? I will help you with that. Do not resort to illegal shit.”
    He scoffed. “There’s no way a few bucks here and there is gonna help me right now.”
    “Are you in gambling debt?” I groaned to myself, hoping to God that wasn’t the case. I knew Zig associated with a lot of bad people and bookies were included in that group.
    “No, I’m not in gambling debt. Just stay the fuck out of my business, okay? Natalie has no fucking right to interfere.”
    I grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him up against the nearest wall. “She sure the hell does have the right to interfere!” I barked at him. “This is not just your life at stake here, David. Your sister’s is too! Do not do this to yourself and your family!”
    I wasn’t that much bigger than he was—he was over six foot, as well—but I knew I could be scary as hell when I was pissed off enough. That side of me didn’t come out very often, but when it did, I really needed to watch what I did and said.
    “Get off me,” Davey said, his jaw clenched. “She wouldn’t understand. And intimidating me isn’t gonna get your way.”
    “Are you hooked on this shit?” I asked. “Are you using the garbage you’re dealing?”
    “No!” he growled at me. I let go of him and he defiantly straightened his shirt. “I’m not that stupid. I just need the green paper, alright?”
    “Come by my office on Monday. I’ll give you a job.”
    He scowled at me. “What kind of job?”
    “What does it matter if it’s cleaning toilets? You’ll be making honest money and you’ll be alive.”
    “Alive,” he muttered.
    “There are a million things in this world to look forward to.”
    “Not for trash like me. I come from a broken home; dad gave no shits about any of us. I don’t have your background and all the roads you got. You really think putting on a suit and tie everyday is gonna make up for that?” He scoffed bitterly. “What dream you livin’?”
    This was the part where I needed to take a deep breath and really think about what I was going to say. I was this same shithead when I was seventeen. I used my parents’ situation as an excuse to be reckless and immature, and it almost cost me my future. Davey was a couple years older than that with a different situation; however, I felt my words would apply regardless.
    I took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You think I had life handed to me on a silver platter?” I lifted my shirt and showed him the scar on my chest. “I almost died when I was your age because someone wanted the ten bucks I had in my wallet. I got shot leaving a job interview . I was trying to get a college degree and a part time job to help me through it. What the fuck kind of karma is that? Does it look like I curled up in a pussy ball and gave up? Fuck. No. I missed three weeks of school trying to recover from something I should have died from . You wanna meet the doctors who saved my life? They will tell you firsthand that I’m a miracle. So yes, David, I do have dreams in my life. I made goals and I’ve reached some of them. I didn’t just bend over and let the world shaft me. You cannot cast blame on every fucking thing. Be a man and face those obstacles with some resolve!”
    He’d been staring across the room during my lecture, but when I stopped, he finally looked at me. “You done?”
    “No I’m not, you little fucker. You get your ass to my office on Monday morning, you hear me? I’m spoon-feeding you that opportunity you so brazenly told me I’ve been privileged to. If your sister can work her ass off to get herself