Up above: Spencer Dunham, played by Max Thieriot.

Happy Reading xx

Movie 🎥 The Expendables (2010)

~T

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S C A R L E T T 💣

"We made 5 grand by the way." A disembodied voice spoke up from behind me, causing me to jump slightly.

I spun around, wondering who on earth was talking to me. A grin grew on my lips when I locked gazes with my best friend, Spencer Dunham, who was grinning proudly at me with his arms folded over his muscular chest. His brilliant blue eyes studied me for my reaction to what he had just said, while my eyes observed the small stubble he grown for quite a while, giving him a rugged look.

"Don't say that out loud, we're in public," I hushed at him with an uncontrollable grin, cautiously looking around.

Campus was pretty full right about now. Students were rushing around to get to their classes, running into other late students, which caused their coffee to spill and that obviously turned into a cussing-out war.

I was currently attending university again in California to get my masters degree in Chemistry. Previously, I attended Stanford University with Spencer, lived there with him too. Now I'm here in Riverside, living with my father. Spencer dropped out of college, and just followed me here to Riverside. Ideally I wanted to go to Caltech, since I had applied there too and gotten in on a full scholarship, but my father didn't allow me to go for some strange reason. He insisted I come to Riverside and live with him while studying at UCR.

"Helloooooo," Spencer shook my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Stop zoning out," he laughed lightly.

I felt myself zoning out again anyways, my thoughts focusing on one person in particular: Spencer. Spencer was a drug dealer. A pretty damn good one to be exact. He had no goals in life, only to make loads of money while selling pure crystal meth, which I happen to manufacture. My part-time job was being a drug manufacturer. It was this deal Spencer and I struck. I made the drugs, he sold them, and we'd split the money evenly between us.

Since I was a prodigy, and Chemistry was my passion. I agreed to help Spencer with making the purest form of crystal meth. In return, he'd sell it without getting caught, using his street connections. Yeah we pretty much sounded like Jesse Pinkman and Walter White, but hey, Breaking Bad was where we had gotten the idea.

"Scarlett, stop zoning out," Spencer slapped my shoulder lightly in a playful manner.

"Sorry," I mumbled, a small smile playing at my lips. He held the door open for me as I walked into Starbucks, with him following me.

"So, how were your classes?" he asked me, standing in line with me. He dug his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans as he stared up at me, waiting for a reply

"They were good. What about yours?"

If you looked at him, he certainly didn't look like a drug dealer. Then again, I didn't look like a drug manufacturer either, I looked like a prudish girl who liked to stay in her room and study all day all night, and well I wasn't like that at all.

I was definitely not a prude, I did make drugs after all and I certainly liked to drink and party. Slept with a couple of guys and have only been in a relationship once, which was a bust since the guy cheated on me multiple times; and I like an idiot clung to him because I 'loved' him.

I remembered the first frat party I went to during my freshman year of college in Stanford. My roommate and I got piss drunk, until she ditched me to go sleep with some random guy. The problem was that I didn't have a ride that night to get back to my dorm, so instead I walked home: big mistake. I found myself cornered by two guys who were messing around with me, harassing me. This was where Spencer came in. He rescued me from the situation before it could get any worse, and I have been thankful for him ever since.

After that night we decided to be friends. I learned more about him and his drug dealing business and then we struck the deal. Before that, I had only ever made crystal meth once as an experiment for a project at Stanford; it turned out surprisingly great.

"You're zoning out again," Spencer noted, pointing behind me at the empty cashier. I shook my head free from my thoughts and moved forwards, ordering my usual frappuccino and a black coffee for Spencer. "What were you thinking about?" he asked me, leading me to an empty table in the corner, where I pulled out my tattered leather bound journal.

"How we met," I replied casually, before humming a tune to myself, and writing down the events of today, for now, into my journal.

It was only 3 in the afternoon, I was supposed to be heading home to clean up the house and make dinner for Dad and I. I never knew where he goes or what he does, he always told me that it was better if I didn't know, and that always made me curious. I wondered; if my mother were still here, would she be doing the same thing as my dad? She died in a car crash when I was eight, it was truly misfortunate and tragic. My dad was lucky to survive the car crash and I am so grateful for that because I don't know what would've happened if I had lost the both of them.

"Oh, what a memorable night that was," Spencer chuckled, before sipping his black coffee.

"True. Hey, do you have my share of the 5 grand we made right now?" I decided to change the subject. He frowned in thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, it's in the trunk of my car," he said, bringing his cup back up to his lips to take another mouthful of coffee.

I nodded in respondent; we sat at Starbucks for a while, drinking our coffees and chatting about our day before I felt my phone vibrate. I chose to ignore it; knowing it was probably my Dad calling me. I checked my watch; which read 3:35 before standing up, stuffing my worn out journal into my bag.

"I gotta go, Dad's calling," I said to Spencer as he downed his cup of coffee and stood up as well.

We left the shop and walked towards the campus car park, where Spencer had parked his car. I didn't stay in the dorms here as I already had my place with my Dad, but I usually did hang around here only because they have amazing libraries and other interesting places.

"Do you want a ride home since you've got a lot of money to carry around?" he asked me; I nodded in agreement.

He unlocked the car doors and swung my door open for me, shot him a smile and jumped in. He got in from the other side and immediately turned up the volume of the speakers as soon as he started the car. Music by Eminem filled the car as he started rapping the words to 'Headlights', while I groaned in annoyance; slamming the palms of my hands over my ears. I don't hate Eminem; I just thought that he rapped way too loudly and angrily, in my opinion. I liked the Arctic Monkeys and The Neighbourhood, now that was my style.

"I need you to cook up a new batch tonight," Spencer told me, his voice increasing in volume over Eminem's angry rapping.

"Do I have to?" I whined, thinking about the amount of work I had to do tonight. Chemistry was a tough subject, a tough subject I happened to love.

"Yeah, I've got orders coming in from all around California," he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

My hands roamed around the inside of my backpack to find my burner phone, it was an old flip phone, which I used to call Spencer's friends I help me cook meth. They weren't that bad to be honest, they were a lot like Spencer, which made me comfortable I guess. I couldn't always make meth on my own so I'd always have to call one of Spencer's friends to help me out whenever Spencer wasn't available.

"Okay I'll see if I can make any tonight," I said, deleting a few texts off the phone before, snapping the lid shut and tossing it into my bag. The car slowed down in front of my house, which were a medium-sized villa with a front lawn and a pool with a backyard.

We stepped out of the car and headed to the back of it, Spencer opened the trunk, revealing two big duffel bags. He handed me one of them, before hugging me, pecking my cheek and telling me to call him later if I needed any help. I assured him I would while hugging him tight.

Even though we were just friends and we met in a weird way, he was like a brother I've never had. He always watched out for me and he always had my back, he always assured me that when the cops find out about us dealing and making drugs; he will take full blame for it without hesitation. It wasn't something I was pleased with but knowing Spencer, he was the most stubborn son of a bitch I've ever met.

Pulling out my own iPhone as he sped off into the distance, I focused on it completely; clicking on a few interesting apps I've downloaded. I continued exploring each one as I walked up towards my house; already familiar with where I was going.

Just as I was stepping up the porch steps, I felt a cool metal press against my forehead in a harsh and painful way. My breath hitched in my throat when I heard a metal click. It sounded like a gun. My eyes slowly travelled up from my phone to the barrel of the gun that was pressed against my forehead, surely leaving a mark by now. My eyes that were now blown wide, moved up the gun and up the tanned tattooed arm of a man who was towering over me.

I almost cowered in fear when my dark eyes locked gazes with a pair of forest green irises that held such intensity it was hard to look away.

"Who the fuck are you?"

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A/N: IDC IF THE ARCTIC MONKEYS AND THE NEIGHBOURHOOD IS BASIC ASF. IT'S MY MUSIC TASTE ALONG WITH THE EMINEM SPENCER LIVES LMAO. IT'S GREAT MUSIC, OK

Until we meet again...

~T