A/N: I entered this story for a contest on Gaia (.com) and I ended up getting second place with it. It's fairly short, and it's really not too good, but I felt like posting something else in this account.

Deadly Trust

Johnny sighed, rolling the unlit cigarette around in his mouth using his tongue. It had been two weeks since Eric's untimely death. Just three days before his marriage to that beautiful woman, Tiffany. Johnny gazed across the room from his door, ignoring the bills from his psychiatrist and landlord on the table, at the soft, comfortable-looking couch. What a shitty time to die, Eric.

Glancing at himself in the mirror, Johnny exhaled deeply. His eyes, a deep, emerald green, were bloodshot. Probably working too hard. He'd thrown himself into work after Eric had died, to keep his mind off of it. Running his fingers through his messy black hair, he turned his back on the mirror. His face had looked too tired for comfort. He'd been living in this apartment for two years now, after dropping out of college; he hadn't cared much for it, anyway, and needed to work constantly to keep up payments on his apartment. He'd recently gotten a lot of money, though, so his bills could all be paid off easily this month.

Stretching his arms towards the ceiling, Johnny walked out to the balcony. Sliding the door shut behind him, a gust of wind hit his face from the west, where the sun was setting. Sighing and leaning against the rail, looking down on all the buildings below and around him, cars honking on the roads, he mused. When he went out for a smoke, he always mused. Something about the taste on his lips brought forth strange thoughts.

He fiddled in his pockets for his lighter. Pulling it out, he gazed at it. Eric had given it to him for his twenty-second birthday, a year and six months ago. It was a small, silver, Statue of Liberty figurine lighter. He liked it so much because the flame came out of the little torch she held. Or maybe because Eric had given it to him; sentimentality was probably what kept it on him at all times. That, or just an obligation.

Flicking the lighter on and lighting his cigarette, he pulled a long drag and exhaled slowly. The police had said they'd found Eric's body in a dumpster not far away from this apartment. There had been a note with the body, typed out, that read, "You shouldn't've messed with the Duke." Johnny had almost laughed upon hearing that, when the police had shown him.

"How lame," Johnny had said. "I can't believe my best friend got offed by someone as lame as 'the Duke'." The policeman merely gave him a strange look, and told him the questioning was done.

Johnny pulled another long drag on the cigarette, this time exhaling the smoke through his nose, as he gazed at the setting sun. Setting, dying. Soon it would be all gone. Dead, just like Eric.

"Damn him," Johnny murmured aloud. Eric had been his best friend since mid- high school, when Eric had saved Johnny from a big group of assholes (beating up on him because he was scrawny and pale -- the memory still burned Johnny up). Idealistic and constantly hopeful, Eric had been naïve but wonderfully sincere -- a great best friend. Always supportive of Johnny and his decisions. Sometimes Johnny had felt unworthy of having a great friend like Eric. Johnny certainly wasn't a good friend in return. Johnny had been a broody sort of teenager. His dad had always blamed his 'problems' on his mother's genes; she'd been 'insane', though Johnny had never pressed the matter for details. His father had always said the Johnny would inherit the "crazy genes". Those kinds of things made Johnny grow older as a pressured kid... but Johnny didn't really care anymore. Eric had greatly impacted his life in a positive way, in that Johnny's father stopped with the crazy jokes after Johnny had gotten a friend -- somehow, he kept thinking that being a "loner" in school would make you turn out crazy, and Johnny had kept believing him.

Eric and Johnny had gone to college together as well, and they'd both met Tiffany there. Tiffany. now, SHE was beautiful. Blonde, slightly shorter than both boys. Beautiful body. They'd both fallen in love with her, and Eric had pretty much won. Johnny had never hated him for that, though. No, he pretty much figured, 'dicks before chicks', and gone on with his life, though he dropped out of college a short while later due to his sudden grade drops.

Eric had told Johnny the good news about his marriage on Johnny's birthday, the twenty-third of October. He had been turning twenty-three. Since then, Eric had been alight with some strange, inner happiness. Johnny was happy for him, though something seemed as though it were aching inside. Some kind of deepest betrayal. Ach, poor Eric, Johnny thought, inwardly wincing as he finished off the cigarette and let it fall the twenty-three-story height to land in some guy's toupee.

What was bothering him now? Johnny bit his lower lip, leaning his elbow on the railing. Some type of. regret? Sure, he missed his best friend, but there was something else.

"Johnny?" said a voice from inside.

Turning, Johnny saw Tiffany walking inside the apartment. Tossing her long blonde hair behind her as she closed the door, she set her purse down on the table and walked towards him.

"Heard about the new information on the Duke?"

"Nope," Johnny replied. A smile curved on his lips. "What have they found out?"

"They figure --" she smiled curvaceously, taking his hand in hers, "that this Duke is some co-worker of Eric's, and killed him out of spite. Some kind of misunderstanding or accident, they suppose. They think Eric trusted this guy, and he managed to rob him of everything he ever had before offing him. His money, his pride." Sliding her hand up his arm and wrapping the other around his chest, she leaned in for a deep kiss. "And now, his girl."

Johnny laughed after they broke apart, gazing at her. "He always was too trusting. too naïve." Sliding his arms around her waist, he grinned. "After all these years of never getting a friendly remark, never responding to his kind words with anything other than negativity, you'd think he'd have gotten the message. I never was his friend; he just regarded me as such. So trusting, our dear Eric."

"Johnny 'the Duke' Sloane." Tiffany smiled mischievously, batting her eyelashes coyly up at Johnny. "I like it."