

Suburban Enterprise
Copyright © 2014 by J. P. London. All rights reserved.

Suburban Enterprise is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are products of the Author's imaginations or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the Author. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electrical or mechanical means unless given permission in writing from J. P. London. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts from this book in a review.

Suburban Enterprise

By J. P. London

Prologue  
Brian

"You got it?" I asked the hooded man sitting next to me.

"Yeah, I gotchu," he responded in a skittish voice.

I eyed him closely as he pulled a knot of tightly wound twenties from his pocket.

"Do I have to count this?" I asked to see his response. I couldn't count it here, anyway. Too public, too many eyes. One doesn't achieve my level of success by giving people an excuse to look.

"Nah, it's all good," he replied calmly.

I nodded and he got out of the car. He slammed the door and I put the car into drive.

Before I could press my foot to the gas of this marvel of German engineering, I could already hear the squealing of tires.

A dark SUV pulled up in front of me, and the black doors with their tinted windows swung open to reveal two men as they hopped out, one from the backseat and one from the front. Their black attire was adorned with the bold white lettering POLICE.

My heart began to pound. Without my control, my right hand reached for the shifter, slamming the car into reverse. I looked in the rear view to find another vehicle, same make and occupants as the one that has pulled up in front of me.

I felt the numbing effects of adrenaline as it overtook my muscles. I reached for the tan leather interior of my front door and pulled the latch. With my foot, I forced the door open in an attempt to run. My feet touched the ground. I could feel my legs tighten and hinder my stride.

It wasn't more than ten steps before I was tackled by an agent, no doubt the track star or football wannabe of his time, expecting a pat on the back or a bone for his "lifesaving" efforts.

My face hit the grass and, instinctively, I rolled to my back and wrapped my legs around his torso. That's when it came – the blinding blow to the face from one of his colleagues.

I was stunned, consumed by the deafening ringing sound of a concussion. My heart racing, the fear of imminent death pumped through my veins while blood rushed to my face. I was laying face-down on my stomach, eating the grass of some suburbanite's expensively manicured front lawn. My hands were pulled behind my back, and though I attempted to resist, I was not used to fighting four or five grown men who outweighed me. The knee on my back, and body weight on my extremities, told me that I had no chance. I could feel the cold sting of metal on my wrist. The sound of my doom came with the words, "You have the right to an attorney..."

At that point, I lost everything: control, understanding, and my grasp on the real world. I was simply a body being processed through the promotion-inspiring arrest that I was simply a puppet in. The phrase "final destination" had leapt off the page and now resided in my subconscious, along with "finale" "inevitable" and "doom."

Chapter 1  
Brian

Earlier that day...

I pulled the door open to find Mike standing in front of my townhouse.

"Knocking on my door like the goddamn police." I grinned at Mike. "What's really good, bro?"

"Same old, you know," Mike said. I extended my hand and he slapped it.

"C'mon in. I was about to blaze this spliff. You're just in time."

"Nah, man... not today"

"Not today? What's up?" I questioned.

"I uhh,- I got a meeting with the coach in a minute. Don't wanna show up all fucked up you know?" he reasoned. And that was certainly a good reason not to smoke. Mike had to deal with real world shit, something I couldn't even relate to anymore.

"Yeah, I gotchu." We walked through the foyer and took a seat on my black leather couch. I had the entire sprawling three bedroom townhouse decorated in black and white and I had mirrors everywhere. It made the place look bigger and made for my favorite coke station. As I put the rolled cigar paper to my mouth, I reached for a lighter on the mirrored coffee table.

Spark, spark, flame. I lit the blunt and took a pull. Blowing out smoke, I looked over at Mike.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure?" I spouted with a grin.

Mike adjusted himself on the couch. "I got this fiend up my ass telling me he's got some dough," he began his proposition.

"Yeah? That sounds like one of those good problems," I retorted.

"Yeah true." Mike hesitated a second. "If it was nickel and dime shit, I wouldda just handled it myself. But he's looking for a little weight, so I figured I'd pass the word on."

"I could front you."

"Nah, man. The less I talk to this motherfucker, the better. Besides, I don't know him like that. Maybe the fiend's got a boy or two and looking to make a run. You know what I mean?

I nodded. He was absolutely right. Mike was a big guy, but he wasn't the scare the life out of you type, either. He looked more like your kid's gym teacher than someone who would break your jaw for stealing from him. And fiend meant he wasn't from our neighborhood. He was probably some hood rat Mike had met through people but who he didn't really trust.

"And everyone knows what happens if they runs on you," Mike continued.

"True, true. So, how do you know him?" I took another puff from the blunt and extended my hand out to Mike. He shook his head. This was more force of habit than peer pressure.

"He's been buying off me for a minute. Little shit. Ten here, twenty there, but now we're talking an ounce."

"So, he's not a student then?"

"Nah man, no kids I gotta deal with."

"True, that's smart. Never give 'em the upper hand."

Mike was the assistant football coach at the high school. Anyone in the school or closely connected got referred to me. Any of his old boys or their boys went through him. He got to make a couple extra bucks every week, and I got to wholesale some product, so it was a win-win.

I took another pull and let it out. "So pills, or homie up in straight dope?

"Dope fiend, dawg. Straight heroin," Mike responded.

"Alright, I'll scope it out. You got his number?"

"Yeah," Mike said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded yellow piece of paper. When he extended his hand, I noticed that he seemed a little jittery.

"You alright, bro?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'm good. Got this meeting and I'm kinda thinking it might be the, 'What the fuck do you do here?' kinda meeting."

"Nah, don't worry. That old man don't wanna run those practices by himself. You imagine him chasing down wide receivers?"

We both laughed.

"True, alright bro. I gotta dip."

"Already?"

"Yeah, ya know gotta get to the J-O-B." The words left his lips with a tremble. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he'd just done some coke or something.

"Hang for a minute man. Even if you're not gonna partake, you can still enjoy the smell of this sweet weed."

"Nah, bro...I'm out." He stood up and extended his hand. I reached up and slapped it.

"Alright man," I said in farewell.

Mike walked a lot quicker than usual, and although I tried to walk him out, the door slammed shut just as I was getting off the couch.

I walked across the living room and into the foyer, locking the door. I paced back through the black and white adorned living room and into the first bedroom. The first bedroom had immaculate white carpets. No one wore shoes in my house on the carpet.

I walked over to the 2 by 4 mirror on the wall and pressed into it. The spring responded and popped open to reveal a wall safe I had some friends help me install. I punched in the combination and, upon the opening of the safe, I realized I would need to re-up. Didn't want to be caught empty handed later that night. Consistency is the dealer's only friend. I grabbed a bundle of perfectly stacked 20's and swung the safe closed.

"Hey, kid. What's up?" spoke the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hey, I need to meet with you. Around 4:33. You free?"

"Yeah."

The line went dead. It was all code, of course. We always met one hour from the phone call. That gave Tommy enough time to get everything together and make sure he was in the clear before meeting with me. Four was the number of ounces of heroin I needed. One for this aspiring entrepreneur or smack head – whichever – and three for my usual re-up. Thirty-three meant I wanted three ounces of coke and 300 pills. If I only wanted coke, then it would have been 12:30 a.m. It was based on military time. You can never be too careful. If the police were listening, they would be waiting for a meeting at 4:30 or would view the phone call as unimportant.

Our usual spot was the mall three miles from my house, but the location within the mall wasn't always the same. Monday was the Gap; Tuesday – American Eagle, Wednesday – Express, Thursdays – Hollister, and Fridays... today we were meeting at Guess. The mall was perfect and what most people in this suburban town are completely unaware of is that it's the perfect place for drug buys. Lots of entrances, lots of exits, and lots of blind spots. Also, everyone has a bag. People always think drug deals go down in dark alleys with dealers who look like their villains in an early 90s movie. Truth is they happen right out in the open with people who you would probably trust to watch your kids for the weekend.

I walked into the mall with a Guess bag in hand, already filled with cash and a shirt on top, just in case anyone noticed. The white floors and tall ceiling always made me happy. They reminded me of Mike, the guys, and me running around here as kids as we chased girls and just tried to get away from our parents.

I found my way to the Guess store and began thumbing through shirts on a display table. Maybe I should go shopping while I was there, I thought. The fall collection had just come in and I could have used some new t-shirts.

"Don't make a mess. I'm not cleaning up after ya," a voice muttered from behind me.

I kept my gaze down. We'd done this enough by now that I knew not to make eye contact.

"Fuck you," I said with a smile. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Tommy next to me holding a Guess bag. It's funny, you see someone who has a bunch of old bags from a store and you think: wow, they sure do care about the environment. When I saw it, all I could think was that they might have been competition.

Tommy walked behind the display table and dropped his bag and then rounded the corner, and I secretively handed him mine before walking over to grab his. By the time the exchange was done, he'd already left the store. Just another shopper walking out of Guess with a new shirt he'd just picked out. I glanced down into the bag and saw a pair of jeans.

The speckled rhinestone back pocket helped me to identify them as girl jeans. Prick. I had to give it to him; he had a sense of humor. Now back to my place to cut and package. This was going to be a very profitable evening.

Chapter 2  
Jimmy

4 years earlier...

I sat down beside this kid. Poor fuckin' kid. He had everything figured out. Badass athlete with a scholarship taking him places, and now what? Nothing. His entire future swept under the rug. Kid was gonna be one of those "back in my day" old men – talking about how he was the baddest mother fucker alive to people who wouldn't give a shit.

There he sat – leg completely casted from hip to ankle. The look in his eyes was the same look of a dog in the pound...broken. His spirit smashed. Still alive, but only physically; his entire purpose in life gone. Everything that he knew had been destroyed.

I almost felt a little bit of guilt for him being here. I convinced him to try wrestling. He had never liked it beforehand. His old man always wanted him to do it, but he had to rebel against the old man, the way kids always do. That was why he would only do MMA and never wrestle in the ring. I think he always wanted to wrestle but needed someone besides his dad to push him there.

You see, a few years back when he was just a freshman, he had tried out for the freshman football team. He had played pee wee ball with me all his life, as did most of the other kids trying out. So, I took a trip to the tryouts to talk to the coach, see the kids, you know.

I remember I started talking to Coach Greg. He and I had been friends for years. We coached the same kids, always at the same fundraisers and we usually made it to each other's games.

"How are my guys doing?" I asked him.

"Good," he replied. "Most of them will make the team, bunch of the new kids who never played won't, though."

"Anyone not making it?"

"Yeah, I'm going to cut Brian over there."

"Really? How come?"

"It's his attitude. He doesn't want to learn at all, he just wants to hit people."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

"I can't have a kid hitting other players. That's how we get the refs on our ass all season long. It's better to just not have him."

"Yeah I don't blame ya," I told him. "Maybe I can talk some sense into him. When does he get cut?"

"Two days."

"Alright. Well, you gotta look out for the good of the team, ya know."

"Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am," I said.

I slapped him on the back and we both laughed. "So, how's the wife?"

*

After practice, I gave Brian and some of the other guys a ride home. After dropping everyone off, it was just me and Brian in the car.

"So, how do you think you're doing?"

"I'm doing great," Brian responded.

"Yeah? Remembering everything I taught you?"

"Of course."

"Alright, just wanna make sure you're not making me look bad." I laughed to let him know I was joking.

"Never."

"Hey, kid...you ever think about maybe wrestling instead of football?"

"No way," Brian snapped quickly.

"Well, you seem like you'd be a natural. And besides, it will help you with your cage fighting stuff."

"You think?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"I don't know. The tights... It all seems a little gay to me."

I laughed. "Well, think it over. If you decide football isn't for you, you let me know and I'll reach out to the wrestling coach and see if we can get you started before the season."

"Alright."

But that was then and this is now. Instead of being a young kid filled with angst, he was a broken young man filled with pain. When I walked into the hospital room part of me was hoping he was asleep. I didn't want to see the agony in his eyes. The broken spirit of a man who just lost his way but then again, people always take direction when they're lost. When I walked in he was awake, his eyes met mine the second I stepped into the room.

"How ya doing, kid?" I asked.

"I'm alright. Had better days," he said with a nervous chuckle

"What's the doc say?"

Brian just shook his head. The words must have been too painful to spit out.

"Hey, I never did thank you for helping me out," he said, avoiding the subject. "After everything, I kinda lost track."

"Hey no problem, kid."

"Thanks."

I shook my head as to say no problem. "Look kid, you focus on getting better. Everything happens for a reason, remember that. Once you're better, come see me. I might have some stuff we can work on."

His eyes widened with a slight glimmer of hope. "I will."

I stood up and shook his hand and walked away.

About a month back before he had his knee chopped, Mr. Rock Star had gotten himself into some trouble with the police. He got into some stupid fight with some guy he was buying weed from and broke his jaw. He'd always been a hot head. Fighting was a good outlet for him. Anyway, cops nabbed him for possession, which would have gotten him kicked off the team and, oddly enough, would have also saved his leg. Like I said...everything happens for a reason. But word got back to me before any of that could happen. I put a call in to a friend in the department and had the whole thing squashed.

Story goes, he found out the kid was dealing and had a problem with it. Everyone liked that story...including him. So he walked...same night. Parents couldn't have been prouder. I took this kid from losing everything – his scholarships, his wresting records, his family support, everything – to being a fucking hero. Someone that people respected. Once a man feels respect from others and from himself, he needs it; it's like water.

I wouldn't see Brian again for another three months. Three months later, I got a call.

"Hey, Jimmy."

"Hey, who's this?"

"This is Brian."

"Bri, how the hell are you?"

"I'm good, Jimmy... I'm good."

"How's the peg leg?"

"It's good...almost at full strength again."

"Good, good to hear. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about maybe working together. You know, what you mentioned before."

"Alright, kid. Come to the house tomorrow during the day. We'll chat."

"Alright. Thanks, Jimmy."

"Talk soon, kid."

Chapter 3  
Jimmy

The doorbell screamed. I looked out the living room window and saw Brian's beat up Chevy in the street.

"C'mon on in!" I yelled. The door didn't move. This goddamn kid. I walked down the stairs and pulled the door open. "Bri! C'mon in." I extended my hand.

"Hey, Jimmy?" he said, shaking my hand.

"How's the leg doing?"

"Good man, really good. I can put weight on it now and move around."

"Back to the matt then?"

"Nah... they said it will never be strong enough for that again." He looked down and shook his head in despair.

"Cheer up, kid," I said slapping his shoulder. "It coulda been worse, coulda been a lot worse"

Yeah... you're right." He didn't sound too convinced.

"C'mon let's go back to the office." I motioned for him to follow me through the house.

"Hey, Brian!" Chelsea called from her bedroom as we walked past. Her bedroom is an addition to the house. It's the only one on the first floor and with good reason. Chelsea is thirteen going on thirty. She's a real spitfire, always full of life. Always brings a smile to everyone's face.

Brian stopped. "Hey gorgeous, how are you?" he said back to her.

It was funny to watch the change in this kid. When talking to me, he always seemed shy, but put him next to someone his age or younger and the cocky little fuck really comes out.

"I'm good, what brings you here?" she asked as she pushed her wheelchair just a little closer.

"Well, I came to see you." He leaned against the doorframe to her bedroom. She smiled big at his response and even blushed a little.

"You still single?" He followed.

"Honey, get my gun," I called out.

Brian laughed and I put my hand on the back of his neck. "Keep marching, Romeo," I said as I gave him a gentle push passed her door. I stopped at the door and leaned back to see Chelsea. "You're gonna make me lose my hair."

"Too late."

I shot her a look and pointed my finger at her. Then I kept walking. I couldn't argue with the girl, she was right. I love her. She always keeps you on your toes. She was born with CP – cerebral palsy. She can feel her legs, just can't do much with them. It's a disease that messes with her nervous system. Such a shame. Why would God do that to this amazing little girl? All her spunk and all of her smarts, but she'll never be able to have a normal life. Boys aren't going to chase her around. They're going to laugh at her. The reason I know this is because they do laugh at her. I've seen it when we're out in public; they stare, point their fingers, whisper, and laugh. She doesn't let it bother her – or she pretends not to, at least – but it breaks my heart every time I think about it.

Brian was just being polite. He's been like that since he was about fourteen. He flirts with her when they run into each other. As much as I make sure it stops right there, I loved the kid for it. He made her feel the way she ought to, even if only for a few minutes. After seeing him today, I knew she would be glowing for the rest of the night. I didn't want to get her hopes up, though. Although he pretends to flirt, his interests are more in cheerleaders then wheelchairs. And I can't say I would have approved of the age difference between them, anyway.

That's why I always liked Brian. Even when I had to kick him off the team for fighting, I knew he was a good kid. He just always had something to prove. Everyone thought he was trouble, but that's because they never saw him in this light. It's a good thing his old man forced him to fight in a ring, otherwise he would have already been in jail.

Back in my office I sat down in a worn leather chair. There was a large oak desk with not much on it. It wasn't that kind of office. The desk just offsets the room. The hardwood floors and earth tone painted walls. The work that gets done here isn't the computer and day planner type.

"So, Bri...what can I do for ya?"

He sat down in a chair across from me. "You had mentioned something about us working together."

"That's right, I did."

"I wasn't really sure what you do. I know that you run a few businesses but I wasn't—"

I cut him off. "There's actually something else I had in mind for you. You remember that little trouble I bailed you out of a few months back?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"It occurred to me. It's a damn good thing you were there for that."

Brian looked puzzled.

"Look, kid...I'm a realist. I understand that kids your age are gonna smoke some weed." I shrugged. "It's not the end of the world. We did it when we were your age, too."

Brian smiled, seeming unsure about where I was going with this whole thing. Who could blame him? It wasn't every day a coach – someone you know and trust – was about to suggest you deal drugs.

"But what I don't understand is why they have to deal with scumbags like that. Imagine if it was someone else, if it was a girl, God forbid, if it was Chelsea. And she went to go get some weed off of this little ghetto piece of shit. Think of what could happen. He could have robbed her, poisoned her... hell, he could have raped her. I can't let that kind of thing go on."

Brian nodded again. "Of course not."

"Look, Brian...I've known you a long time." He nodded "This is our community. Right?"

"Yes," he said enthusiastically.

"And you want to keep scum out of it, too, right?"

"Yes"

"Good. I'm thinking you know a lot of people, right?"

"Yes."

"And you're all in all a good guy. You're sure as hell not gonna poison someone, am I right?" I said with a chuckle.

"You're right," he said, chuckling as well.

"So let's get you set up. You can make a couple of bucks and we can make sure that the kids in our neighborhood stay safe, even if they're trying to have a little fun."

"You mean get me set up to sell weed?"

"Yeah. Keep it safe and in the community." I paused and then added, "I also figure, if some asshole like that comes back around, trying to poison people, then you'll be there to kick his ass again, too."

Brian smiled a deviant smile. Now it made sense to him. Now he knew why he was chosen. Now he had purpose again. "Yes, I will," he said with a tone of confidence.

"Good." I opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a non-discreet cardboard box. Inside the cardboard box was an ounce of haze, the most potent weed he'd ever seen. A small electronic scale and a bag filled with small baggies. "I'm starting you off with an ounce. It's that real sticky weed you're gonna love."

Brian nodded slowly in apparent absolute shock. I put the box in front of him on the desk and sat back in my worn leather chair.

"What do I owe you?" Brian said skeptically,

"Nothing. This one's on the house. Call it a signing bonus."

Brian smiled.

"You have any problems with the cops, just remember... when you're with me, you're above the law. Just shut up and call me. I'll take care of the rest. Capeesh?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, kid," I said, standing up. He stood up as well.

I walked around the desk and extended my hand to him. He grabbed it and pulled me in for a hug. "You're gonna be just fine kid. I can tell." I patted him on the back then stepped away from the embrace. "Oh and this goes without saying... This is strictly between you and me." He nodded "No matter what."

"No matter what," he replied.

Chapter 4  
Brian

I couldn't fucking believe it. He'd actually just given me an ounce of weed. What luck! I really didn't know what I'd been expecting. Some way to make money maybe working at one of his companies, maybe, but never this! This was fuckin' awesome!

I tried to maintain my composure as I walked through the house. Chelsea's door was closed as I walked by... Thank god. I really didn't want to have to talk to her right now. Out the door and off to the car.

Fuck yeah! I'd just made a huge score. This was worth like $500! And he'd just dropped it in my lap like it was nothing. I knew things were gonna look up for me.

I picked up my phone and dialed quickly before pulling away.

I listened to the ringing on the other end of the line and then a voice filled my ear. "Yo."

"Yo. You still in practice?" I asked

"Nah, bout to head home," a familiar voice said.

"Dude, come to my house."

"What's up?"

"Good stuff man, good stuff."

"What?"

"I'll tell ya in a few."

When I got back to my house, I was seriously relieved to find that my parents weren't home. Maybe they went out to dinner or something. Thank god.

Mike pulled up at almost the exact same time as me. It's a small enough town; if he hadn't I would have just waited for him outside. I got out and walked toward the house. I stopped mid-way up the sidewalk and waited for Mike. He closed the door to his car and trotted across the street to my side slowly down to a walk as he reached the side walk.

"So, what's up?"

I smiled big. "Big plans for the night."

"Dude it's a Wednesday," Mike reasoned.

I laughed slightly. "C'mon." I motioned for him to follow me into the house.

I locked the door.

"Alright you ready?"

"Yeah get the fuck on with it already," Mike pleaded.

I put the box on the end table and opened it with my back to him. Then I grabbed the bag of weed.

"Ta-da!" I said as I pulled it out.

"Holy shit, dude!"

I nodded.

"Where did you get it?"

"Don't worry about it." Mike reached up and grabbed the bag. He opened it and took a deep breath of the amazing weed inside. We could get weed, but never this good. Every once in a while, someone would have haze, but for the most part, it was mids or lower. Haze was a moment to celebrate.

"Dude, this is..."

"Yup," I interrupted him.

"So, how did you get it?"

"I can't talk about it, but I'm gonna have more."

"Why can't you talk about it?"

I hesitated for a moment. I'd promised not to say anything, but...this was Mike. I knew he wouldn't say anything. We had been tight for years, if anyone could be trusted, it was him. "I got it from Jimmy. He doesn't want me to talk about it. So don't ever mention that again, alright? All you know is I got a guy."

"Jimmy T?"

"Yeah."

"Our old football coach?" Mike looked dumbfounded.

"Yeah."

"Our old football coach is selling you weed?" Mike asked.

"Yo, he's helping me out. If you don't want none, then you can step the fuck off."

Mike raised his hands up backing off slightly. "Nah. Nah, man, that's cool. Just a little weird, ya know?"

"Nah, he's cool. But like I said, not a word, alright?"

"Alright." He paused. "Got two words..."

I gave him an irritated look.

"Got papers?" He asked.

I laughed. "I should still have a few." I ran up the stairs and into my room with Mike right behind me. After a few moments of shuffling around the room, I found an old box of zigzags I'd had for a few months.

"Bingo!" I called out. Mike had already started breaking up a bud on a DVD case on my bed. I took the paper out of the pack and waited for him patiently.

"This shit is so sticky," Mike said.

"I know, right? Look at all those crystals on your hands." Mike looked down at his hands and tried to "dust them off" with no such luck.

Minutes later, we were sitting in the backyard back by the shed. That way, none of the neighbors could see us. Both of us sat on the grass, our backs leaning up against the wooden privacy fence my dad installed a few years earlier. This was one of those moments I would always remember. It was perfect. Best friends with a fresh bag of free weed and not a care in the world.

I thumbed the lighter and the jay was soon lit. I took a deep pull. And oh shit. I began coughing my ass off. A deep cough from deep inside my diaphragm, my lungs hurled when the smoke hit them. I was planning to take another hit, but it was too late now. Coughing and drooling, I passed the joint to Mike.

"Well, damn," he said.

I tried to speak but was muffled by restricted oxygen and my coughing fit. A nod would just have to do for now.

Mike took a hit next. But that son of a bitch had a warning, so he kept it small. Trying not to cough, he succeeded way better than I had. Look at him trying to act all tough. Son of a bitch.

I took one last good cough and then a deep breath. I let out a sigh. Mike reached over and offered me the jay again. I shook my head.

"So, you gonna sell this?" Mike asked, obviously too intrigued by the weed to notice the baggies and scale in the box.

"Yup," I responded. "Plan is, since I got it for free, I'm gonna make the bags super fat. That way, everyone comes back."

Mike nodded. "So, the first one was free then you gotta pay for the rest?"

"That's the way it seems," I replied. "So, put the word out. You can help me out and we can both make some money."

"How so?"

"I give you a discount on some wholesale and you can pass it out to the football players and other people you know. It's always good to have a partner, right?"

"Alright," he said with enthusiasm.

He passed the jay to me. I took a smaller hit then let it out.

I looked over at Mike. "We're gonna build an empire."

*

Later that night we bagged up the rest of the weed, agreeing that we would smoke a little bit but not get carried away. "Never get high on your own supply."

The next day at school, we put the word out to everyone that I could get good weed – fat sacks of the haze for regular price. Mike and I both lined the elastic of our boxers with a quarter ounce each. If I had known how fast they were going to sell, I would have brought the whole ounce. By 3rd period I was completely sold out and Mike was shortly after. In the middle of 3rd period, I met him in the bathroom. We had both been using it to hold open market.

"How you doing?" Mike asked.

"I'm out."

"Damn, me too."

"Dude, you know how much pussy were gonna get over this?" I exclaimed to him smiling.

"Hell yeah," Mike said, seeming a little uncomfortable.

I went home after school and grabbed the rest before heading to the mall. I had at least six people that were looking for grams to pick up. And the mall was the perfect place. No one would wonder why everyone else from my high school were there. It was just high school kids looking to get high, I thought. Besides, I'm a lot easier to deal with than people in the hood. Why would you ever go out of town when you could buy from someone you know, who you know is good for it and isn't gonna fuck you over? You wouldn't. This is called market share or some such shit. All I know is that I couldn't keep it to myself. I was literally at the mall for less than an hour and sold the other half. Mostly baggies and an 8th, which I discounted to Mike, who in turn sold it as bags. I wonder if this is what Jimmy had in mind. Either way he was right; I was good at this. This was what I was supposed to be doing.

*

"Hey, Jimmy." I said into the phone.

"Hey, kid. What's up?"

"Uhhh, I need to meet with you. I definitely want that job we talked about."

"Already? I was expecting to hear from you in a week or two."

"C'mon now, you knew it wouldn't take me a week."

"Alright kid. Come by. I'll be at the house. We'll go over the details."

Chapter 5  
Jimmy

"Damn, kid. You surprised me," I said, looking at Brian from across the stained oak desk. "I mean, I knew you were good, but I didn't think you were that good." Honestly, I wasn't that surprised, but he needed this. The encouragement would get him through.

"You know, it's what I do." The arrogance bled from his lips as he spoke.

"You didn't just knock over a liquor store or anything, did you?"

We both laughed. "Nah, I sold almost all of it."

"Good for you, kid. How much did ya make?"

He tensed up. "Uh, like, a little over four hundred. I'm not really sure. Mike helped me, so I had to give him some breaks."

"Mike, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"He doesn't know you got it from me...right?"

"No, of course not," he said very defensively.

I paused and looked into his eyes. He was lying. Mike did know.

"Okay, just make sure he doesn't find out. Mike's a good kid. Just keep him on a short leash."

Brian nodded.

"And remember this always." I paused for dramatic effect. "If he fucks something up, you have to handle it."

He nodded again.

"No, I need you to say it."

"If he fucks something up, I have to handle it."

I nodded. "Good. Now, let's see if we can get you making a little more money."

Brian nodded enthusiastically. "Hell yeah," he said with a smile.

"Alright, kid. So, you just pulled in four hundred an ounce, right?"

"Yeah, about that."

"Alright. How much did you bag them out to?"

"Like a gram. A little more."

"Okay, that's why you only made four hundred."

"What should it be?"

"Depends on what you can sell—.8, .7. Whatever people will buy. You can sell an ounce at .8 and it's seven hundred, .7 is another hundred. And since you're going to be buying your ounces now, it's important not to leave money on the table."

Brian nodded. "Okay. How much are ounces?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I chuckled. "Three hundred for one, two fifty each for four or more." I paused. "Now you see why you need to make more than four hundred?"

Brian nodded.

"Hell, a hundred a day is great for a kid your age. But why when you could be making four hundred? Hell, five, even?" I said. "I have a few tricks for ya. Number one and most importantly is going to be the weight. A 0.8 is big enough that no one will complain. Even a 0.7 will still get them high and that's all you need."

Brian nodded.

"I bet you bagged up that whole ounce right away, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

I smirked. "Not anymore. Keep it together in a sealed bag. I also want you to keep some orange peels in there with it."

His eyebrows lifted in question. "Orange peels?"

"Yeah, it keeps it moist. Dried out weed weighs less, smokes quicker and costs you money. So, orange peels." I stared down at him, and he nodded in understanding.

"But if I'm selling a half ounce a day... What's the difference?"

"Only bag up what you know you're gonna sell. The last thing you want is a bunch of dried up weed. If you're doing a half ounce a day, you'll be dealing in heavy weights before you know it. Best to practice good habits." That's a phrase I've used coaching him since he was a kid. I knew that would hit home.

"I gotcha."

"So, Mr. Entrepreneur, how much do you want?"

"How about I give you four now for two ounces and then another two hundred when it sells?"

"Let's do another two fifty when it sells."

"I thought it was three hundred an ounce?"

"It is, when you have the money. If not, interest costs."

"Interest?" He looked confused.

"Yeah, kid. You'll understand more after you've been doing this for a while. It's common practice."

"Alright, I'll be back tomorrow with the other two fifty."

"Just remember something." I paused for effect. "I like ya, but business is business. Never tell a man you'll be back tomorrow, unless you're sure you will be."

"Oh, I will be."

I grinned. "Alright, kid." Opening the bottom desk drawer, I reached in to pull out two zip lock bags filled with weed. This was the fluffy stuff. I knew he wouldn't have any problem lowering the weights to make his coin. I tossed the bags across the desk and they slid right in front of him.

"Now, put that in your backpack. If the wife sees you with that, I'm saying you brought it in." I said with a smirk.

He laughed. "No problem," he said pulling the zip lock bags into his backpack.

"Sounds good." He stood up and extended his hand to shake mine. This time was different; his grip was firmer and there was a newfound confidence in his eye contact. He was back. He'd been replenished by purpose and opportunity.

He was all in.

Chapter 6  
Brian

I could barely wait to get home. I closed the door to Jimmy's house and walked down the driveway. My hands clasped around the straps of my backpack. There was now fourteen hundred dollars in my bag. All I had to do was prove that I deserved to have it and it would be mine.

Opening the car door, I tossed the backpack into the passenger seat. I slammed the door behind me and put it into drive. Fourteen hundred dollars! That was half the price of my car. I couldn't believe that I would be making that much money. Damn, had I stepped in shit!

I drove home and immediately went to my room, completely ignoring my parents sitting on the couch. I pulled the twin clear zip lock bags out and sat down on my bed. Looming over me was my varsity letters. As I stared at the picture of me in my wrestling gear and the letters on the wall, it occurred to me: everything happens for a reason. My strength was the reason he picked me. My popularity was why I could sell. And my injury, I thought, as I glanced down at my knee, was this reason I had this now.

If I could sell four ounces a week, I would be making over a hundred and fifty grand a year. That was more than my parents made! Why would I ever go back to sitting in a classroom now? To start off making thirty grand a year? Fuck that! This would give me a career. It was the golden ticket for anyone who was man enough to take it. And I was man enough.

The next day was hustling time. I was quick to rise and even quicker to get ready for school. I had plans for today. I needed to sell thirteen bags to make the two fifty back that I needed to pay Jimmy. Lucky number thirteen, I thought and grinned to myself.

After getting dressed, I locked my bedroom door. No one ever came in here, but it still seemed like a good idea. I pulled the scale and baggies out of my underwear drawer, along with one of my bags of new found smokeable cash. I weighted up twenty-five bags and got creative.

I looked around my room and then grabbed an almost-finished deodorant container. I popped the top and pulled out a greasy slab of deodorant before filling the bottle with ten bags, leaving five bags in the elastic of my underwear. Then I stuffed another ten bags for Mike into the oversized cap of an Axe body spray bottle. This was the best possible hiding place. No one would smell it. No one would take a second look.

I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. My school-issued polo shirt was covering up my underwear line. The thin silver chain hanging from my neck would soon be replaced by diamonds or something nicer. Take note, Brian... this is the poorest you're ever going to look ever again, I thought to myself.

The clock caught my eye. It was time to go.

*

I pulled into the school parking, bumping my music. The sound of bass and melody radiated out from the Chevy. Next step: I was going to have to get a nicer car. I parked in my usual section and kept the car running, music blaring, and got out. It was a nice day. I shook hands with all of the usual suspects and started bullshitting.

Karen walked up to me, "Hey, baby."

Karen was my sort of girlfriend. We'd dated for a few months in the beginning of the year and then broke up. Now, we were kind of in the on-again, off-again stage.

"Hey Kar, what's up?"

She kissed me on the cheek, "You know... stressin'."

"Now why would you be doing that?" I asked.

"I got a test first period." She shot me a pouty face.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but you don't seem to be stressin'," she playfully shoved my arm.

I cocked an eyebrow, "Why would I stress?"

"Aren't we in the same class, Mr. Cool?"

"That's why I'm not stressin'. I'm just gonna copy off of you."

"Jerk!" she yelled, giving me a playful push again.

"Well, I think I deserve some special treatment if you're going to be copying off of me." She leaned in, pressing her pelvis against mine.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well... my parents aren't going to be home until six and since word is you have quite the party favors, you can come blaze me out and we can watch some TV."

Translation: Come smoke and fuck me.

I hesitated, "Maybe. We'll see."

"Maybe?" she asked, jumping back.

"I gotta sell a lot today," I shrugged, "Business stuff, you know."

"Well, what if I can help?"

"Alright," I said with a smile, "How about this? You get five people to buy bags off of me and I'll get you some good good."

"And what's some 'good good?" she questioned.

"You'll see."

"What if I can't?"

"You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."

She laughed, "Of course I can. God, Danny is so up my ass, I could probably just get him to give me the money."

"Well, whatever you do," I shrugged.

"So, you're really gonna make me hustle to smoke some weed?" she asked, leaning her hips into mine seductively.

"Nah, the weed's free. It's the dick that's gonna cost you."

"Jerk," she said, shoving me hard this time and backing away from me.

"Love you!" I called out and snickered so everyone could see. She flipped me off and then turned around to smile and stick her tongue out at me.

"What's good, bro?" Reggie said as he slapped my hand. He was good friends with Mike; the two of them were both on the football team.

"You tell me. You gonna kick some ass this weekend?" I gave him a jab on the arm.

"Oh, yeah. You know how we do."

"Yeah, I know. If you ever wanna step in the ring, I can show you how to really kick some ass."

I leaned forward onto my feet and then gave him some quick shadow shots.

He laughed, "Maybe one day when I don't have to look pretty for a game." He patted his hair jokingly then continued, "So, Derrick told me you and Mike had some good shit. Hook a brotha up, man."

"What do you need?"

"Forty," he replied.

"Alright," I nodded, "drop the cash in my car."

Reggie smiled and walked over to the window. Looking around cautiously, he took what looked to be twenties out of his pocket and dropped them onto the driver's seat. Then he walked up to me.

I pulled the two bags from my waistline and slapped his hand, switching the bags to his grip.

"Alright, bro."

"Alright."

As Reggie was walking away, Mike pulled up and parked next to me. His music was on, but my system was way louder, so he shut his off and got out of the car.

"What's up, brother?" I asked as he rounded the front of the car and walked over to me with a big smile on his face.

"Living the dream, man," Mike responded.

"I hear that. I got something for you."

He eyed me curiously, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I reached into my backpack and pulled out the Axe body spray.

"Cause you stink, mother fucker," I jabbed at him.

"Fuck you."

We both laughed.

"Alright," I said quietly, "there's ten bags in there. I need one fifty back, alright?"

"Yeah, I got it."

By the time I had made it to homeroom, I had already sold the five bags in my waistline and three from the deodorant. I had to re-up before going to first period and put the remaining seven bags in my pocket. It made me nervous, but I knew I was just being paranoid. No one would have ever asked me to run my shit here. I fuckin' ran this school.

*

By the time school was over, I was completely sold out. I was walking out to my car when I heard Karen's voice yelling for me, "And where do you think you're going?"

I smiled, "Well, I don't know. It's been a long day. I'm kinda tired." I stretched my arms for dramatic effect.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"The math homework? Nah, I'm good."

"No dick!" she pushed me, "You're going to smoke someone out today?"

"Am I? Oh, wait. Yeah, some girl told me she was going to help me with some sales and then I was gonna smoke with her."

She put her hands on her hips, "Some girl, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't know if that worked out, though."

"So, would you still come over if I didn't?"

I paused, studying her face, "It doesn't matter, 'cause you did...didn't you?"

She smiled. "Yeah, Kami and Britney are coming by my place to pick up from you."

"Alright, I'm gonna stop at home real quick. I'll be there in a little bit."

"Don't be long," she said as she leaned into me and kissed the side of my neck. God damn, this girl was still so sexy.

I hopped into the car and sped to my house. I had a pocket full of twenties and tens. Even more money than I needed to pay Jimmy, and now I was about to go pickup another hundred and get laid? How could this day have gotten any better?

I parked the car and ran into the house and up the stairs. In my bedroom, I weighed out four grams. That was five bags, but I put it in a single sandwich bag to make it look even bigger. That way, they would think that I'd hooked them up. I set aside a nice bud for me and Karen to smoke on, and I was pretty damn sure that Britney and Kami were going to be on it, too. Shit, maybe I could kick some game to them and see if this might get a little more interesting.

Once the bags were packed, I jumped in the shower and pulled my shirt up so that it was only around my head just so that I could wash my body real quick, but still look like I didn't care and still had come straight from school. After all, they did, too.

Now it was time to go. I had four hours before I had to meet Jimmy. This was when a man proved he was a man.

I pulled up to Karen's house. Fucking place looked like a castle. It was one of those new houses made of stone and light colored brick. Her yard was perfectly landscaped with those bright flowers and dark mulch. To think, if I wasn't an athlete, she'd never talk to me—I'd have been the guy who laid her mulch down. It was amazing that we went to the same school.

I could see Kami and Britney were already there. Parked in front of the house was Britney's new Lexus—a seventeenth birthday present from her dad. Must have been nice.

I knocked loudly on the door. A few seconds later, Karen opened the door, which looked massive next to her little body. She was about 5'2" and a hundred pounds or so. Her blonde hair was piled high on top of her head in a bun.

She glanced up at me with her light blue eyes. I held them for a moment before scanning the rest of her body and taking in her light, feminine features. She had amazing tits. I checked her bra one time to see what size she was. She was a C cup, but she looked more like a D to me; they seemed real but were perked up like they were fake. Then again, in this town, who the hell knows?

Since she'd gotten home from school, she had already changed her clothes. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. The shorts looked good on her, but the T-shirt was way too baggy. I guess she gets comfortable real quick.

"Long time no see," I said, stepping in.

She gave me a slow kiss on the lips and threw her head back and whispered, "Hi."

We smiled at each other.

"They're already here. We're upstairs," she explained.

I nodded and motioned toward the stairs. She grabbed my hand and led me across the marble floor and over to the staircase.

Following her upstairs, all I could focus on was her ass in those tight little shorts. God damn.

In her room, Britney was laying on her bed, stomach down, with her shoes kicked off. Kami was sitting in the computer chair looking through music.

"Hey, B," Britney said, smiling at me.

"Hey, B, yourself," I winked at her.

"Hey, hey," said Kami.

"Hey Kami," I sat down on the bed next to Britney. Karen sat down on the other side of me, and I laid back into her.

"So, what's good, girls? What are you getting into this weekend?"

"We're heading down to Kami's house in Seaside," Brittney said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah, you guys should come," Kami suggested.

"Nah, I can't. I got some business to do tonight... you know. Maybe later."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, so that's why you guys are stocking up? To go to Seaside?"

"Well, we can't very well go there empty-handed, right?" Britney asked with a grin.

"Of course not," I replied, "you got time to smoke first?"

"Hell, yeah," Kami chimed in. "I want to sample the goods," she added with a laugh.

"Well, sample you will, then."

I reached into my pockets. "Alright, this one is yours." I took the sandwich bag out and tossed it to Kami. "And this one we're smoking now." I took out a bud that weighed about a gram from my other pocket and turned to Britney. "Here, make yourself useful. Break that up."

"I need something to break it up on," she said.

I glanced around the room. "Hey, pass me a piece of paper?"

Kami reached over and grabbed a piece of paper from the printer and passed it over. I laid the piece of paper down in front of Britney. "Just don't spill it," I said, noticing how cute she looked.

I took the old pack of zigzags out of my pocket and breathed a heavy, hot breath into one of them in my best attempt at keeping it moist, despite its age.

Britney broke up half of the bud and carefully moved a creased piece of paper over to me. I poured it into the white rolling paper and sealed it together with my fingers. I licked and then rolled. "Who has a lighter?"

"I do," Karen said as she began to search threw her bag and pulled out a red Bic. I sparked the lighter. The fun was about to begin.

*

After we smoked, Karen must have given the sign to get the fuck out because they left quickly. Kami left the money on the desk and pointed it out to me. They both leaned in and kissed me on either cheek before heading out.

I was still lying on Karen when she broke my comfort to get up.

"Why? Stay," I whined to her.

"I have to go to the bathroom." She followed them out the door and closed it behind her. I knew they were taking this time to talk about me when I couldn't hear them. It was cool, though. The worst case scenario was that I got to sell to them. The best case scenario was that I'd maybe get to fuck Britney. Who knew what would happen?

Feeling dazed, I stared up at the ceiling. I was laying on Karen's king-sized bed, covered in super soft throw pillows and all that other weird shit girls keep on their bed. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and I had begun to daydream.

This was going to be awesome. All of the money I would make, all the fun I would have. Fuck having a summer job. I was enterprising. A big smile spread across my face.

My daydream was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. I sat up slightly and glanced down off the ceiling and onto the door. I was about to say something, but then I saw Karen standing at the door. She was wearing a lacy baby blue bra and pantie set, which made her blue eyes pop from behind her blonde bangs. Her hair was out of the bun now and down over her shoulders.

How fucking long had I zoned out for?

She stepped in and raised her knee up on the inside of the doorway. She turned her body sideways and ran her hand down the inside wall of her room. From the side, I could see how fantastic her ass looked in that lacy blue thong she was wearing.

"Did I do good, Mr. Big Time Drug Dealer?"

"Yeah, you did," I said as an uncontrollable smile took over my face.

"So, what was the deal again? I sell five bags for and I get what?"

"Get your ass over here."

"No, no, no. What was our deal?"

"You get this dick," I said with a smile.

"But I would have gotten it anyway, right? Because you want me?" She turned her ass toward me more, cocking her head to look right in my eyes.

"Yes."

She smiled. "You better." Leaving the doorway, she walked over to the bed.

*

Hours later, I woke up in Karen's bed with her naked body lying on top of mine. God, she looked good. Everything about her, from head to toe, looked incredible. There was something really sexy about her, all naked and curled up next to me.

I lifted her arm off my chest, waking her up. She made a long, stretching sound. "Mmm. What time is it?"

"Shit!" I leapt to my feet, "I gotta go."

She sat up, alarmed. Her beautiful tits hung perfectly as she rose up to her right elbow. "What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna be late," I explained.

"What time is it?"

"Six."

She shot up. "Oh, fuck. My parents are home." She raced to the window and looked out. "Okay, they're not home yet."

It wasn't really a big deal if I was there; it was just better if I wasn't. It made life easier. When you were high or even still just kind of high, the last thing in the world that you want to deal with is your girlfriend's parents. She was still looking out the window, and I was wrestling with my shirt. I grabbed my shoes and pulled them on without even sitting down. I knew I looked like a disheveled mess.

"Alright, I'm out of here." I grabbed her and spun her around to kiss me. I planted a kiss on her lips and palmed her naked ass. Then I headed out of her room and closed the door behind me.

I could hear her say, "Call me," as the door swung shut. Then I raced down the stairs and out the front door. This was all kind of an act. I still had time, but the last thing I wanted to do was deal with her parents today, knowing I probably smelled like weed and their daughter's pussy.

Chapter 7  
Jimmy

"Alright! Let's go!" I yelled and blew into the whistle. The loud shrill let the kids know it was time to start practice. They began running, doing laps from goal post to goal post.

"Let's go McKenzie! Pick up the pace," I yelled across the field.

Across the grass, I spotted Brian. He was trotting across midfield. It was a slow jog that turned into a walk as he came up on me.

"Look at you showing up early," I opened the conversation.

"Yeah, well I wanted to make an impression," Brian responded.

"What impression is that?"

"That men handle their business," Brian said with an affirming nod.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I got everything, no problems."

"Excellent. Come on, take a walk with me." I motioned over to where my truck was parked.

"Tommy, start them on drills when their done with warm ups." I called out over my shoulder.

"Okay," Tommy replied.

I walked towards my truck and the kid followed me. He seemed really excited. That whole proving you're a man thing was big with him. His old man had instilled that in him from the cradle. That's why he was always so aggressive to people. His old man wanted more than anything to go to the Olympics for wrestling. Unfortunately, the old man wasn't that good, not nearly as good as Brian, anyway. Now he tells people it's because he had Brian, but let's be honest here. He would have gotten his ass kicked. But whatever, people tend to remember things the way they want to. That's fine.

"So I have to say I'm impressed. I wasn't sure how you were gonna handle it."

"I told you. I don't mess around," Brian replied.

"I know I know. But saying it is one thing. Manning up is totally different." We walked across the field; he walked with me, yet, just a little behind me. "But you came through," I said as we reached my black suburban. I opened the back and sat down.

"Here kid, take a seat," I said looking left then right to see if anyone was watching us. Truth be told, no one would be able to see us back here and even if they did, what the hell are they gonna say? He took the money out of his pocket and put it on the carpeted floor between us. I thumbed through the money. It looked like it was all there. I slid the money in my pocket.

"Alright kid, looks like you're all square with me. How are things?"

"Great!" He shouted, "Sales went even faster today than yesterday."

"Good. Once people know you're reliable, they'll keep coming. It's a big thing to be reliable in this kind of business." Brian nodded. "It's abig thing to be a man of your word. It lets people know they can trust you," I explained.

"Of course, there's nothing more important," he answered back. I like this kid. He just repeated exactly what I said as if it was his own thought.

Chapter 8  
Jimmy

Sometime later...

Brian walked into my office. We're at my place of business this time. Not the office in my house. I try not to take any meetings there anymore, especially not Brian. One reason is because I don't want people to see him coming and going just in case he gets caught and branded a drug dealer. Mostly, it's because I don't want Chelsea asking me questions. I always feel bad lying to her.

The office was a simple place with a reception area and two rooms behind it. One I used just as storage and the other had a desk and a few chairs. It was a pretty simple place. I didn't spend a whole lot of time here.

"Hey Jimmy, how's it going?"

"Good kid, how bout yourself?"

"Can't complain at all man, I'm doing great," he said grinning. He's been consistently making money for a while now, which carries with it its own set of problems. The last thing you want is some kid buying a new car with no income at all. That raises a lot of questions you don't want to answer. There's no stopping it though. An eighteen year old with ten grand in his pocket is going to buy some stupid shit. You just have to be prepared for it.

"So what's up?" he asked

"I got a problem kid, maybe you can help me."

He inched up in his seat. "Sure thing, what do you need?"

"I got this guy owes me some money."

"Ok."

"I need him to understand that that's a problem... How's that leg feeling?" I motioned to his formally injured leg.

Brian smiled. He knew what I was really asking and this was his time to shine.

"Feeling good."

"Good enough to handle some business if it goes wrong?"

"Of course." Brian's words had absolute conviction. There was no doubt in his mind.

"Good. Here's what you're going to do. Remember, the point is to get money and scare him. Not kick his ass. That's a last resort.

Brian nodded anxiously.

"So you're going to tell him he's light and you're here to collect. Tell him you really just want to collect and not have any problems. Remember, the money's the important part."

"What if he doesn't believe me?" Brian asked.

"Good question." I opened the desk drawer and pulled out 2 dice. "Toss him these. He'll know what they are."

He nodded and grabbed the dice, stuffing them in his pocket.

"How much am I collecting?"

"A grand."

"He owes you a thousand dollars?" Brian's eyes opened wide. He seemed surprised that I would let someone owe me that much money.

"Well that's what he owes now. You see he took some stuff on credit, just like you have in the past. But he's not a man like you are. He's been ducking me, not showing up to meetings, not answering the phone."

He nodded.

"And the only thing worse than a man like that, a son of a bitch who doesn't keep his word, is a rat. They are the scum of the earth. Together the two types should be stomped out."

He nodded.

"So I need you to ensure that that stops. Gotta nip this kinda shit in the bud, ya know?"

"Yeah I think I can handle that," he responded, "Where do I find him?"

"He's at the pool hall in Clifton every Friday night. That's where he hangs out and sets up shop. He might have people with him. Maybe you should bring your boy Mike around with you," I suggested.

"You think?"

"Yeah. He's a big guy so he might scare them. It also keeps him in line. You don't fuck with a guy who you just saw kick someone's ass or take their money. You just don't do it."

"That's true," Brian responded.

"Handle this for me and there will be something extra for you on your next reup," I promised him

"You got it," he said, "I won't let you down."

"I know kid."

A moment later, Brian leaves and Tommy comes into the office.

"I'm gonna have the kid Brian handle our issue at the pool hall," I told Tommy.

"Why? I got that."

"It's important to him. It will build his self-esteem."

"As long as he doesn't get his ass kicked," Tommy interjected.

"Either way, he's never gonna come crying to me about it. Besides, first we got him money, now we make him strong. He's gonna feel like he owes his balls to me."

"Make him strong?"

"Yeah. You're willing to kick this guy's ass because he owes money and it's business. Brian wants to kick his ass because it will make him feel strong. Something he hasn't fully felt in a while. We let him handle this and he'll love us forever."

Chapter 9  
Brian

"I won't let you down," I said

"I know kid," he responded.

I extended my hand and he gripped it and shook it hard. He reached in his pocket and handed me a picture. With a deep grin, he nodded at me. Then, without another word I got up and walked away. I always liked that about Jimmy, he only said what needed to be said. He was a real man's man. No need for bullshit, no need for clutter. The door slammed closed behind me and I walked to my car.

I took out my phone and dialed.

"Yo," Mike said.

"Yo, what's up?"

"Nothing man just getting home."

"Whacha doing tonight?" I asked.

"You still wanna hit that party?"

"Yeah but first we got something to take care of."

"Alright, but you're driving," Mike responded.

"No doubt. Pick you up in an hour or so."

"Alright."

It was time to go home and get ready. You'd think I'd be nervous but I was actually excited. This is a way to prove myself. Even though he doesn't talk about it, I know Jimmy makes a lot of money. He would have to, to afford the house he lives in, to pay for Chelsea's care, all her medical shit. I want a taste of that. I prove to him that I can handle the things he throws at me and I'm as good as gold. And then, I'm seriously above the law.

*

Mike sat down and the car adjusted to his weight as he pulled the door closed.

"Yo," Mike greeted me.

"Yo."

"So what's the plan here?"

"Jimmy has a job for us," I explained.

"Oh?" Mike asked looking interested. I nodded. "Well what is it?"

"We're gonna go collect some money for him."

"We're gonna collect some money?" Mike asked troubled. I could already tell he was not going to like this plan.

"Yeah, he's got a dead beat that owes him a G, so we're gonna go get it."

"I gotta imagine Mr. Deadbeat Drug Dealer isn't expecting us, is he?"

"Nope," I responded.

"So what do we do if he doesn't have it, or won't give it to us?"

"We tune him the fuck up and make him reconsider," I said with authority and turned to look at Mike.

"Fuck man! I'm wearing nice clothes!"

I looked down at his clothes. "You sure?"

"Fuck you!" Mike laughed.

"You're not gonna do anything. I got this," I assured him.

"So what am I? Damage control?"

"Pretty much, just in case things get out of hand, then you step in. And man, fuck those clothes. Soon enough you're gonna have enough money to buy whatever the fuck you want. Just gotta make a strong point to Jimmy that we're good dudes."

"I like that a lot."

"I knew you would." I lifted my hand up in a fist and he bumped it with his.

"So is Jamie going tonight?"

"Yeah she said she'd be there."

"Aww shit. You fuck her yet?" I asked.

"Nah man I'm still working on it"

"C'mon dude, you gotta slam that shit. It's about to be summer break. If you're not gonna hit it now you ain't never gonna."

"I know I know I'm WORKING on it!" Mike said loudly letting me know to back off. Other chicks he was fine with, but for some reason Jamie just got to him. I guess we all have that one.

"She bringing any friends with her tonight?"

"Yeah, Sarah."

"Aww shit. Alright bro, so here's the plan after the party we go back to your place to blaze one with them. It's the perfect way to get her back to your room. Then I'll keep Sarah entertained and you got enough time to do whacha gotta do," I explained.

"Ehhh I dunno man"

"What the fuck don't you know?"

"At my house? What about my parents?" Mike asked sounding a little scared.

"Well they'll be asleep right?"

"Yeah but they can still smell weed in the house."

"So we smoke in the car, douse ourselves in spray, then we go inside, " I explained.

"I dunno man."

"You're paying attention to all the wrong details here. You need to fuck this chick and now is the time to do it. That's the only important part!"

We pulled into the parking lot of the pool hall. I made sure to do a drive-by to scout out the area. I pulled a picture out of my pocket and showed it to Mike.

"Here's our guy." Mike looked at the picture then looked out the window.

"It's kinda hard to tell man. It's all dark and shit."

"Yeah you're right. Let's check it out. Worst case, he ain't here and you get to stay pretty for a girl you're not gonna fuck." I punched his arm.

"Fuck you," He replied. I pulled the car around to the parking lot of the next building over and pulled into a spot. It's better here. That way if we have to bolt no one can see the ride. We both got out of the car.

"Yo, you got a T on under that?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Take that sweater off, your chain too, just in case."

"Fuckin A man! I thought you were handling this!" You could see how really uncomfortable he was with this. It's a shame, such a big guy and he can be such a pussy at times

"I am, but just in case. Dude might not even be here, so chill the fuck out."

I reached behind my neck and unlatched the links of my silver chain. Then reached in and put it in my cup holder. I also left my cell phone and wallet. It's always better to have empty pockets.

I tucked my T shirt in my pants and pulled the belt back hard to make sure it wasn't going anywhere. Mike noticed what I was doing and followed in suit. He's not much of a fighter but he's a quick learner. I kneeled down and tied both of my shoes tight. Then I double knotted them. No reason to take any chances.

I looked Mike over once he stood up from tying his shoes. "You ready?"

Mike nodded nervously.

"Dude, I need you to have a big swinging cock here. We're doing this guy a favor but not kicking his ass alright? He fucking owes us. So act like you own him." I waved my finger as I talked and tapped it into his chest for effect.

Mike cleared his throat, took a deep breath and then nodded.

We searched the parking lot and although it looked like a good place to pick up weed. Our guy wasn't here. But this was definitely the spot. We took one lap up, then one lap down in the back of the parking lot, I noticed something. Call it a drug user's intuition. Upon our walk back we passed by the dumpsters and saw some people. It looked like it could have been him and two other guys drinking beers. They were back where no one can see. You can throw weed but bottles are a lot harder to hide. I slapped Mike on the arm and we walked over to them.

"Ayyo you Billy?" I asked.

There was no response.

We walked up closer on the three men and their faces came into sight. One of them was him. The other two, who the hell knows. I turned and looked Billy right in the eyes. "Billy! That is you brotha! How the fuck are you?"

"Who is you?" His tone was harsh.

"I'm Brian. This is Mikey." I motioned to Mike.

"Whachu need B?" he said a little more relaxed.

"Some dough brotha."

He laughed. "Oh yeah?" he said chuckling.

"Yeah, Jimmy T says you got some for him." He stopped laughing immediately. Those were the magic words. At that moment he realized that it was a serious situation. It was no longer a laughing matter.

"Oh word?"

I nodded.

"Well bro, I don't fucking know you so step the fuck off."

"Here" I said and stepped forward now about four feet away from him and tossed the two dice at his hands. He caught the dice and looked down at them. His look alone told me that he knew what this meant. I can only imagine what Jimmy must have said with those dice. If I had to guess, I would say it was something about gambling with your life.

"Snake eyes bro. Tough luck. Now what do you got for me?"

"Man fuck you!" He screamed.

I smiled.

"I was kinda hoping you'd say that."

I took a step closer to Billy and his two boys. Billy was taller than me but skinny. He was lanky and could probably throw a pretty hard punch if he wanted to. The guy on his right was about my size but a little out of shape. And the guy on his left was a big guy he was even bigger than Mike. He was probably a little over six foot and definitely over two hundred pounds. He'd have to be the first one to go. I looked down at their feet. All three of them now knew that I meant business. All three of them now knew that I'm here for trouble and their feet, all even. No one was in a stance. None of these guys have had any real training. Maybe some street shit, but that doesn't count for shit against someone like me.

"So you sure you don't want to just give me the money then run back and hide under a rock or something?" I said not even trying to hide my smile.

"Yo, fuck this mother fucker up!"

Chapter 10  
Mike

The dice landed in his hands. By the way his expression changed I could tell they had some other meaning. When Brian first mentioned Jimmy's name Billy looked nervous. But then he quickly came back with the conclusion that he couldn't trust Brian because he's not Jimmy. Then he looked relieved. Now he looked terrified. He looked like a deer in head lights, watching impending doom get closer and closer, but not able to summon the will to move. I never want to be in that position. Thank god I only ever deal with Brian.

"Snake eyes bro. Tough luck. Now what do you got for me?" He spewed arrogantly. Not a doubt, not a single question as to how this was going to play out. A lot of times, I'm jealous of Brian for his commitment and resolve. When something is one way, it is, no matter what. And no matter what, he was going to kick this kid's ass. He had no doubts. No hesitations. To him, it was just fun.

"Man Fuck you!" Billy retorted. Wrong answer Billy.

"I was kinda hoping you'd say that," Brian said with a smile, spewing more confidence on them. I'm not going to lie, his certainty in the matter was probably more intimidating than his muscles ever could be. Or me shaking like a leaf by his side hoping to God this didn't escalate. But that chance was becoming slimmer and slimmer by the moment. Now there's blood in the water. He can see their fear and he has every excuse in the world to fight. Brian took a strong step forward. I was now three or four steps behind him. It's the way Brian wanted it, and I'm not going to complain.

"So you sure you don't want to just give me the money then run back and hide under a rock or something?" Brian said. He had a thing for mock ultimatums. There's no way out of them, He's basically daring you to fight him.

"Yo, fuck this mother fucker up!" Billy said to his two friends. I became filled with anxiety and dread. Not only do I not want to be in this fight. I don't want to get shot by one of these hood kids over some money that isn't even mine. But I have to jump in and help right? Not unless it's necessary. That's what Brian said. Gotta give him his space. Besides, how many fights had Brian been in? Fifty? A hundred? A thousand? Between cage fighting and just being an asshole, he had be well into the three digits by now.

The three moved in on Brian and with the speed of lightening, Brian cocked his arm back and unloaded with his entire body landing a vicious right cross on the big guy on the left. Then for good measure, he followed it with a left hook landing yet again unblocked, dead square in his face, which had been turned to the right by the force of the initial strike. This shot belonged on a high light reel somewhere. It had full contact, no defense, and at least a broken bone or two. The big guy hit the ground like a sack of shit.

Billy took a strike at him. A wild right hand that might have hurt, but Brian's reaction was far too quick. He raised his left arm and grabbed the back of his head forming a barrier that covered his face from the blow. Then as soon as it landed, the dud on his arm, he extended both arms and grabbed the back of Billy's head and clinched his neck with his forearms. He used this as leverage to move Billy in front of his other friend on the right.

Brian used Billy's body as a shield blocking off a possible double attack. Then with his strength pulled Billy's narrow body down by his neck and launched his right knee up into his face. Once, twice, then on the third time the other kid was in position to hit him and he threw Billy to the side. A right hook came in and Brian ducked. He popped up, and with a strong arc of his body, punched the only man left standing in the ribs. The lone survivor's hands dropped and Brian delivered right then left then right then left until he hit the ground.

Brian stood up then cracked his neck. He looked over at me and smiled. Billy was groaning in pain slowly moving on the ground. His other two friends weren't even moving. For a brief second, I wonder if the lone survivor is dead. The big guy seemed to come back and groaned an awful sound of pain. Brian turned and for good measure soccer kicked him right in the face. Now I'm really just hoping their all not dead.

Brian grabs Billy by the collar and leaned into him.

"Run yo shit!" Brian yelled with authority.

"Man you broke my nose!" Billy screamed in agony. Brian responded by quickly punching him in the face again, knocking him flat on his back. Brian grabbed him again and lifted him up by the collar.

"What the fuck did I just say!" Brian shouted. His dominance over Billy was unrelenting.

"Mike!" he yelled to me, "Run their shit. Anything, chains, watches, cash. Take it all."

"Dude!" I responded.

"Do it!" he yelled. I quickly went over to the big guy first. For a brief second, I thought "It appears his dominance over me is unrelenting also," but I shook it off. It's an intense situation. I grabbed the chain around his neck and ripped it off. He barely moved. Then I unhinged his watch and took that as well. I padded him down and found a cell phone in one pocket and a wallet in the other. Then it was on to the next guy. Brian was doing the same to Billy. On the next guy, I found a chain, a wallet, and about a quarter ounce of weed.

"See what you make me do! We couldda been nice but no, you want to go that OTHER way don't you! You stupid fuck!" Brian yelled at Billy.

"Mike! Whatcha got?"

"All their shit," I answered matter of factly.

"Inventory mother fucker!"

"Uhhh," my hands shook with adrenaline as I held the items and tried counting in the darkness. "Two chains, a watch, two wallets two phones and bag of weed," I reported

"Get the cash out of the wallets then drop them," Brian commanded.

"A bag of weed huh? Well you don't mind if I take that off your hands do you?" Brian asked Billy mockingly, "Huh?" I could hear the slapping sound of Brian's hand against a mashed and bloodied face.

"Take it," a voice uttered in defeat. A gross contrast from the bad ass voice we had heard before. I guess an ass kicking has a way of humbling a man.

"How much?" he called out to me.

"One fifty in cash," I looked up at him as I responded. Billy was now leaned up against a dumpster. He looked like shit. His nose was obviously broken. He leaned over and spit out some teeth. Maybe his jaw was broken too. Who the hell knows?

"Well the big baller here has two hundred on him, a chain and a very, very nice watch." Brian looked at Billy. "So you got three fifty in cash and some jewelry. I'll call another hundred. And that weed. That's for my troubles. That don't count for shit. That means you still owe Jimmy another five fifty and if he doesn't have it in two days, I'm coming back."

Brian took the license out of Billy's wallet. "I'm keeping this. I know where you live. You have two days or you're gonna spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, wondering... Is today the day."

He slammed Billy up against the dumpster and stood up. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

I nodded anxiously. Billy reached for something on the ground. Brian stepped on his hand. He shrieked in agony.

"No. These are mine now. And if I have to, I'll take more." Brian bent down and picked something up off the ground, then slid his hand in his pocket and turned to look at me. "Let's go."

We ran back to the car and peeled out of the parking lot.

"Dude that was fucking crazy!" I screamed. I was high from the adrenaline and finally enjoying it without the fear of impending death behind a dumpster.

"Yeah that was fuckin nuts man!" Brian said, "Yo, did you see the way that big guy fell?" he laughed.

"Yeah." I laughed. Then I was struck with a moment of anxiety. My tone shifted.

"Dude, seriously that was some shit. Like aren't you worried they're going to come back on you?

He wrinkled his brow and turned to me. "No, not at all."

"Why the hell not?" I insisted.

"Because he fucks with me, he's fucking with Jimmy. You saw how scared he got. Second, he doesn't fucking know us. All he knows is he just got one hell of an ass whopping on account of Jimmy T."

"But you said our names."

"So? I could have been lying."

I must have looked concerned because after one glance in my direction he began to explain his calmness.

"Dude, it was dark and they got fucked up. If they're gonna remember anyone it's me not you. And if I happen to run into one of them, I'll do the same damn thing I just did."

My hands were still shaking and his words did little to calm me down.

"Chill man. Were gonna go to this party. Have a couple drinks then you're gonna bang Jamie remember." He gave me a light jab on the shoulder.

Remember? No, not at all in fact. I haven't stopped thinking about being an accessory to murder for the last twenty minutes, I thought to myself.

Chapter 11  
Jimmy

The next morning, I responded to a knock at the door. There was Brian standing proud with his chin held high. A quick glance at his hands told me that he had probably followed through with that bit of business I gave him.

"You look like you had a long night," I started the conversation. He looked like hell. His hair was a mess and his clothes were untucked and unbuttoned. He didn't normally look this way. It wasn't the "I got my ass kicked" look though. It was more the "I've been out drinking all night" look.

"Yeah, I didn't go home yet," Brian explained.

"Out with some girl?"

"Yeah you know." Brian grinned.

"Which one was it?"

"Jessica Opwitz."

"Ohhh Kenny's girl huh?"

"I guess so."

"She's a cute one."

He nodded.

"C'mon in," I said

We walked through the hallway to the back room. I like this kid. Not a word as we walk through, very professional. This way the wife can't hear him. Not that it matters, but I'd rather not deal with it. And I definitely don't want Chelsea to hear anything. As we walk past her room her door is slightly cracked and I pull it shut. If she keeps seeing Brian at the house, then questions will follow. I'd rather avoid them if possible.

Back in my office, I took the seat behind the desk. I extended my hand to offer Brian a seat across from me.

"So, how did you make out?" I asked. Without saying a word he stood up and emptied out his pockets onto my desk. His hands were full of random merchandize that he let fall onto the desk ever so quietly. Then he spoke.

"Alright I got three fifty in cash, two chains, two watches and about a quarter ounce in weed. I gave the quarter ounce to Mike as a thank you and told Billy that it didn't come off his tab at all. I told him a hundred for the jewelry tallying him up to four fifty paid and owing you five fifty. If the jewelry or the weed is a problem, I'll pay for it. It's worth a couple hundred all by itself."

As the words came out of his mouth, they confirmed that I had made the right decision with him. Not only did he give these kids one hell of an ass whopping, but he also got money from them. And based on the frantic phone call Billy gave me last night, I should have the other five fifty any minute now.

I looked up at him from my chair. "Is that all?" I said with a tone of sarcasm. I was expecting him to come back empty handed with nothing but an increased sense of self-worth.

"No," He said with a serious face and looked me dead in the eyes as he reached into his pocket. Brian placed his hand on the desk and let three small objects fall onto the stained wood. He pulled his hand back to reveal three bloody teeth. Although I am rarely ever caught by surprise I was not expecting that. I raised my head and eyebrows in shock.

"Holy shit kid! You took his teeth?" I exclaimed.

Brian smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I told him they belong to you now." I couldn't help but laugh. This kid was an evil son of bitch just itching for a nudge in the right direction. It's a damn good thing I picked him up.

Letting out a chuckle I said, "I think we have a new nick name for ya, the dentist." I continued, "You got some talent kid. That dentist shit, is the kinda thing people remember. Your boy Billy already called me to make a payment."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Tommy's picking it up right now." I reached across the desk onto the pile of items and pulled Billy's license from it. "Apparently whatever you said to him when you took this really hit home. What did you say?"

"Just that if he didn't pay in two days I would keep coming back."

"That's it?" I asked. Brian shrugged.

"I think so."

"Alright. Good job kid." I reached over and picked up the watch. It was a Movado, black faced silver watch. He was right. This is worth three hundred all by itself. "You know, a watch is only as good as the story that comes with it." I held the watch up in my hand and tossed it over to him. "Here, you earned this. You walked up on a guy, in his own territory and took it off of him. That means it's not his anymore, it's yours. You won that watch. You wear that with pride." Brian smiled.

"Thanks," he said.

"And don't worry. I still got something coming to you on your next reup. Just had to make sure you were ready is all."

"I'm ready," he affirmed.

"I know kid."

*

A few minutes later Brian was gone and I ran into Chelsea in the hallway.

"Daddy, what was Brian doing here?"

"Nothing sweetie, don't worry about it."

She gave me a stern look. I wasn't getting off that easy.

"He wanted some advice about college. That sort of thing," I lied to her.

"What was he really doing here?" Chelsea asked. I kissed the side of her head. God bless her she's always so smart, so clever. If not for this disease she would have been something truly amazing. She still will be, just not the way I would have wanted for her.

"Did you finish your homework sweetie pie?"

"Yes Daddy."

"That's my girl."

Chapter 12  
Brian

It was only another day or two before I was out of stock again. Selling good weed to suburban kids was like looking for water on a boat. You know, if it was in water. There wasn't even much hustle to it. The biggest hustle was trying to move around enough so that my old man didn't get suspicious. And so that no one knew where I was going to be.

I would have Mike and Karen come to my house and sometimes go out and meet people. My parents liked Mike, and knew I was dating Karen, so it wasn't suspicious for them to come over at all. And for a couple bucks they didn't mind it either. Not to mention I'm sure they both skimmed off the bags anyway. Whatever.

Other than that, I would try to meet people in public places where there were a lot of other people walking around. The mall, the gym, and the grocery store were my favorites. It's funny. Every movie I've ever seen has drug deals going down in some shady alleys, some back behind the dumpster type shit like where I ran into Billy. I never got that. Who the fuck wants to be there? I meet my people in good spots where they don't mind being. Why not grab a bag and a new pair of shoes at the mall? Why not hit the weights then get high after. Arnold used to do it.

That's what I did for everyone. That's what I provided. The convenience. It's just like how Netflix took down Blockbuster. It's all about access, where you want it, when you want it. Besides, moving around kept me from being stuck in a place that gets recognized as a drug den. The last thing I want to do is get caught with a fat sack of weed on me. Even though I'm sure Jimmy could take care of it. I'd just rather not go down that road if we don't have to. Right now I'm his boy. I handle things. I'm the man. I want to keep it that way. And soon, I knew I was going to see what kicking someone's ass runs these days. I can't wait to see what I get in the reup.

The phone rang in my ear.

"Hey, it's me, can you meet up?"

"Yeah, same thing as before?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah that will work."

"Alright, I'll have Tommy call you in an hour. You two can meet up."

"Sounds good."

I met Tommy at the mall about an hour later. Not the way I normally meet people though. I went out to meet him in the parking lot and hoped in his car. I was carrying a Hollister bag. Not for any special reason, just that I had been shopping in Hollister at the time that he called to say he was outside. I walked up to the black Lincoln and opened the door.

Tommy was a big Irish guy. He looked like he could have been a linebacker if he was a little younger and maybe ate a little less potatoes growing up.

"How ya doing?" I asked, after closing the door behind me.

"Good, you?"

"Good." I reached into my side cargo pocket and pulled out the wad of cash.

"A thousand there?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have to count it do I?" Tommy asked looking at me over the brim of his sunglasses.

I shot him a look.

"I'm fuckin with ya kid, calm down. You don't have to fight everyone ya know."

"Yeah, yeah. So whacha got for me?"

He reached behind the seat and pulled up a J C Penny bag that had been on the floor behind the passenger seat. "Here ya go. Four ounces for you and something special."

"What is it?" I asked as I opened the bag and laid my eyes upon four big bags of weed and a large bottle of aspirin. I reached in and grabbed the aspirin bottle. "Fuckin aspirin?"

"Close. Percocet. Ever hear of them?"

"Yeah, that's what they gave me for my knee." I spun the bottle in my hand and opened the lid looking in.

"Hell of a high right?"

"Actually yeah. You get used to them though."

"Exactly. You have a few beers with each one. Your set. You can sell each pill for 10 bucks. There's fifty pills in there. Pass them out, make some new customers. You know how."

I nodded. "Think people will pay for these?"

"Hell yeah kid. They're a great high. I just don't want to catch you doing them." He peered down from his sunglasses again.

"I know. Never get high on your own supply. It's rule number four."

He looked at me puzzled for a second then shook his head. "Yeah, so don't do it. Jimmy will seriously kick your ass over that shit."

"Don't worry, I'm good."

"I know man. From now on you reach out to me for reups, gotta keep Jimmy clean. But any issues that you have you come to me and we can go to him. Otherwise, you keep selling and I'll keep you in the supply," Tommy explained.

"Works for me. This keeps up I'm gonna be hitting you up in the next couple days."

"I hope so. Alright kid I'll see ya later," He said as he reached his hand over to shake mine. "Don't forget your shopping bags."

He winked at me. I gripped his hand tight and shook it.

"Oh I won't. See ya later."

Chapter 13  
Alec

"Thank you!" The words came through my lips and everyone began to clap. Looking out at my classmates and family I knew that I would never forget this moment. It was my last day of high school. Graduation. Now time for summer, college, and the rest of my life. The ceremony took forever, as I feel like they are probably designed to be. You've endured this educational process for the last four years. All you want to do is run at this point and all your parents and teachers want to do is make you sit here and wait in your cap and gown so they can take pictures and solidify this moment in the history of their scrap books.

My speech was at the beginning of the ceremony so I have like a million years to wait until I get the chance to get out of here. Truth be told, I'd prefer it that way. I'd rather get it done and over with that way I can relax. Talking in front of people was never really a task that I enjoyed. Everyone looking at me, it's just a little much. The speech went well. I'm happy with it. No stuttering, only a few "Umms." I'd call it a success. I sat and daydreamed for what felt like forever when I noticed the person sitting next to me stand up to get their diploma.

Ok this is it. All I have to do now is not fall down and I'm good to go. "Alec Stanton," said the principal. Here we go. I stood up walked over to him one foot then the next.

"Congratulations!" he said.

"Thank you." I smiled, accepted my diploma, and then shook his hand. I then walked off the stage and back to my seat. Thank god. That's done. Now I can just relax.

After the ceremony, we all had to hang out and take pictures. I didn't mind so much. As long as I'm out of that gymnasium, I could care less.

"So Alec, your mom tells me you're going to Montclair next year?"

"That's right."

"And on a full ride," my mom chimed in.

"Mom..." I rolled my eyes at her.

"What? I'm proud of you!" she stated. I suppose if there is any day that I can't blame her, it's today.

"That's something to be proud of," Mr. Carter stated. "So what are you going to study?"

"Business."

"Uh oh! The next Donald Trump on our hands here!"

I chuckled nervously. "I don't know about all that, But I think I can do some damage," I said with a smile.

"Good to hear. Well congratulations, I'm sure we'll see you over the summer." Mr. Carter extended his hand to me.

"You bet Mr. Carter." I reached my hand out and shook his.

"Take care."

Mr. Carter walked away and I turned in to face my mother.

"Mom you don't have to tell everyone that," I pleaded with her.

"Hey, a full scholarship is a big deal. You know what people pay to go to school these days?"

"Yeah I know, it's a lot."

"And they believe in you so much, that they are paying for you just so they can tell people you're alumni when you get out and make tons of money."

"Thanks mom." I smiled at her. "Thanks for everything." I hug her and she hugged me back hard. I could tell she was trying not to cry, but she still got choked up a bit.

"Mom, don't cry on the graduate in front of his friends," Mike called out as he walked up.

"Mike!" I shouted, happy to see another member of my family in attendance.

"There he is! I couldn't see you with the crying mother on your arm."

Mike walked over and grabbed my hand then pulled me in for a hug.

"Congrats buddy!"

"Thanks." He let go of his hug and looked past me.

"Look out." Mike motioned behind me. Before I could turn I felt an arm clench around my neck and pull me into a headlock.

"Look at this guy, all grown up!" I heard Brian's voice.

"Let go!" I tried to fight him off but it was pretty useless. He's oddly strong for someone who is not much bigger than me. He finally released me from that grip of his.

"Alright, alright. Congratulations kid." Brian gave me a playful jab on the arm. Then he turned to my mom. "Hey ma," he said and kissed her on the cheek.

"Brian what are you doing here?" my mom asked him.

"You know I came to support Mr. Valedictorian here." Brian motioned to me with both arms.

"I'm only the salutatorian," I corrected him.

"Same difference." Brian shrugged. "You're a smart guy who got a full ride right? And you didn't even have to get the craped knocked out of ya like blockhead over here." He shot Mike and elbow in the arm.

"Hey Brian," said a blonde girl from my class named Stacy as she walked by.

"Hey baby," he shot back with an evil grin. His gaze followed her. Then he turned back to us and looked back at my mom. "And you know... support the other graduates as well."

"Aren't you a little old for high school girls now?" Mom asked Brian.

"Yeah, that's why I only go for graduates." Brian winked at my mom.

"Oh god help you Brian. You boys aren't going to corrupt my youngest tonight are you?"

"Nah of course not Ma, this is graduation night, he's got parties to go to I'm sure," Mike said.

"Yeah and we can always corrupt him tomorrow, you know we got a whole summer before college starts," Brian added.

"You boys are impossible."

"That's why ya love us Ma," Brian said.

"We are taking him out to celebrate tomorrow night though. And don't you forget," Mike said as he pointed at me.

"I won't."

"So go do what ya gotta do tonight. And we'll catch up with you later," Brian added.

"So Brian will you be joining us back at the house?" Mom asked.

"Of course! What kinda party would it be if I didn't?"

"Not a party at all," mom responded sarcastically. At this point she knows Brian well enough to just endure him. He's a good guy and a lot of fun, but sometimes he can be a bit much.

*

After the party at the house for family and close friends, Brian and Mike caught up with me.

"Alright. You guys got booze for tonight?" Mike asked.

"I think so yeah. "

"Alright if not let me know and we can get you some."

"Got rubbers?" Brian asked.

"Yeah man." I laughed a little embarrassed.

"We graduated at the right time man. Now all the chicks are going for smart guys instead of athletes like us," Mike said.

"Speak for yourself there brotha," Brian responded.

"Alright, here's a little graduation present. Now I know you're not into weed and god fucking knows why. But you might like these." Brian took a pill bottle out of his pocket. I could hear the contents jingling inside.

"What are they?" I asked.

"Perks," Brian said, "Enjoy yourself."

"Thanks guys."

"No problem. Hey we're still going out for drinks tomorrow," Mike reminded me.

"You sure you can get me served?"

"Yeah don't worry about it," Brian said, "Bring some girls too. It always impresses them."

"Alright man, I will," I said with a big smile. They were always looking out for me. It's great to have an older brother with the kind of influence Mike had. I always felt that way. Even though I knew it was mostly Brian. He supplied most of my grade with weed so despite being two years older, everyone still loved him and people would still kiss my ass to get in good with them.

Chapter 14  
Jimmy

"There he is!" I said with a smile as Brian walked into the office.

"Hey Jimmy."

"How ya doing kid?"

"I'm good."

"Good to hear. Take a seat." I motioned to the chair opposite of mine across the desk.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked. He seemed a little nervous. This wasn't like him. Not anymore at least. He's been with me for a while now. He's usually so damn comfortable and cocky. This should be interesting.

"I was interested in expanding."

"Expanding? How so?" I leaned in and looked at him. I fucking love it. This is what I had been waiting for. This was the whole point of putting pills in his hand. The weed is nickel and dime shit. Don't get me wrong. This kid makes money for me and himself. But it's nothing that serious. Neither are the pills. But it's to keep the idea of expansion in his mind. Keep it as a possibility.

See the small time shit gave him a taste of this life. Now he wants more. He can't work anymore. Spending an entire week to make what he makes in an hour at the beach? Nah, never. Once you've had a taste of this life, it's hard to stop. And for Brian, someone with his impulsiveness, it's impossible.

"Well I want to make more money. So I want to start dealing in more weight and in other products."

"What other products did you have in mind?" I leaned forward in my chair.

"Coke and Molly."

"Wow kid. You're looking to take a step up in the world huh?"

He nodded.

"You realize that's also a huge step up in risk too, right?"

Brian nodded again. "I think I can handle it."

"You think? You better be damn sure. Cops see you selling some pot it's some local bullshit. No one really cares. But they catch you with a pile of coke and things are a bit different. I might not be able to help you as much."

"I haven't gotten caught yet," Brian said with a light tone.

"Don't get cocky," I quickly reprimanded him, "Who are you even going to sell it too?"

"I have people in Montclair begging for it and the kids at ECC."

I peered at him hard. "Alright, but look, don't let me catch you passing this shit around the high school alright?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" I asked again.

"Yes." Brian affirmed.

"Ok. You keep it to college kids and older. The last thing that I want is someone in Chelsea's class O-Ding on some shit and it getting back to you."

"Of course."

"Alright, it's gonna take me a couple days to get it. You know how to cut it, what to use etc. etc.?"

He nodded.

"Alright either way we're still gonna go over that. The last thing I want you to do is mix some anthrax or something in there."

He gave me the, "You can't be serious look."

"Anyway. How much do you need now?"

"Half pound and three hundred pills ought to be good."

"Alright. You gonna have Mike keep selling for you? Is that your expansion?"

"Yeah him and this other kid. He's not from around here. He runs a youth group a few exits down," Brian explained.

"A youth group?" I shot him the,"You can't be serious look."

Brian shrugged. Yeah, it's kinda weird. He looks like the most wholesome kid in the world.... Selling weed." Brian laughed.

I shook my head.

"Can't make this shit up can ya?" I asked.

"No. you really can't." We both laughed.

"Alright kid. I'll have Tommy call ya to handle your reup. The other stuff, we'll be in touch."

"Alright. Thanks Jimmy."

"No problem kid. You coming to the BBQ?"

"Of course, you know I wouldn't miss that."

"Great kid. I'll see ya then."

Chapter 15  
Brian

Every year Jimmy has a fourth of July BBQ. It's a hell of a production. He would get permits and shut down the whole block, literally the whole block. It was like walking into a fair. I bet he could actually sell tickets, but that wasn't really Jimmy's style. This was about the community, bringing everyone together. The coach was always really big on that. He felt that we all needed to stick together. That's why everyone liked him.

It's funny to look back on things and realize how they all played out. At this same BBQ years earlier, was the first time Jimmy helped me out of a jam. Everyone usually congregates outside of Jimmy's house. He has all the tables set up there and that's where the cooking is done. It also happens to be where the kegs are kept, so naturally that's where everyone ends up setting up shop and sitting down.

I already knew this, so did everyone else, having been to this BBQ every year for as long as I can remember. So we went to Susie's house. She lived on the same block as Jimmy and about four houses down on the same side of the street. Now, in this neighborhood, four houses is a long way. Susie had a dark gray house with white trim and shutters. It really popped out as you walked up to it. The shutters were kept super clean by her dad. He was also the one who made sure the flower beds were always clean, the grass was perfectly trim and the bushes were never an inch over grown. Rich people and their hobbies.

I was in the backyard with a hand full of other people including Mike and of course Susie. She had snagged a bottle of rum from her dad that he thought went into the punch for the BBQ, but in fact, it got lost along the way to the punch bowl and got found in the backyard with us.

We were taking swigs out of the bottle then chasing it with coke. Susie was a little less adventurous and was drinking a rum and coke made in a red solo cup. I remember hearing the voice so distinctly. The bottle was pressed up to my lips and I heard, "Brian!" I coughed and almost dropped the bottle. I quickly pulled the bottle down to my side trying to hide it.

"Brian! What the hell are you doing!" said Paul an off duty cop that was at the BBQ. I still to this day have no idea how he saw me. We were in the back yard for Christ's sake.

"Nothing," I responded holding the bottle behind my back.

"Give me the bottle."

"What bottle?" I asked innocently.

"I think we need to go see your parents." He grabbed me by the shirt collar and started to pull me. I shrugged strongly and freed my collar of his grip. That son of a bitch almost tore it. As he was pushing me out of the back yard, Jimmy walked up along the side of the house.

"Paul, what's going on?" Jimmy asked.

"I just caught this little shit drinking!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Officer Dickhead raised the bottle of rum that he had caught me with. Jimmy raised his hands and with his fingers said, "Give me the bottle," Paul surrendered the bottle to Jimmy. Jimmy unscrewed the bottle and took a sniff.

"I got this Paul."

"What?"

Jimmy put his hand on Paul's shoulder. "Don't worry. Enjoy yourself. Kids will be kids right?" Jimmy offered him a broad smile.

Paul looked at him for a second. Jimmy's eyes were locked on Paul, his smile faded to dull stare. Paul nodded and walked away. I wasn't sure what to say to Jimmy. He looked at me then down at my collar.

"You alright?"

"Yeah... Thanks."

"No problem. Cops get carried away sometimes. You're here with me, you're alright. It's a party anyway, you deserve to have some fun too. Your dad was just telling me how you're really kicking some ass in the ring huh?"

"Yeah just wait till next year," I said confidently.

"You're a natural kid. I'm glad you decided to go with it."

"Me too, thanks"

"No problem."

Jimmy looked at the bottle. It was about three quarters of the way full.

"Who else is back there?" he asked.

"Mike, Susie and Katie." I figured it was alright to tell him, he wasn't going to turn us in anyway.

"That it?"

"Yup."

Jimmy poured the bottle out until it was a little less than half way full. He looked at the bottle seeming to measure it with his eyes.

"Alright. That should be good." I guess I looked confused because he continued to say, "Everyone deserves to have a good time. But if your dad finds you drunk I can't help you." He chuckled and handed me the bottle.

"Enjoy kid."

"Thanks."

Then he walked away.

Chapter 16  
Alec

It doesn't start with heroin. It never does. First, it's weed. You see, everyone smokes weed, everyone. Everyone understands it. Parents, teachers, "It's just some pot," they all used to smoke it anyway. Then the majority stay, and for most of the population, that's enough. But then some graduate.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those "Weed is a gateway drug, people." That's fucking stupid. Someone isn't going to start shooting up after their first joint. In fact, I never even liked weed. It's funny how things work out.

Some people just want to do drugs, want to get fucked up, want to escape their reality. And those are the people who advance. Those are the people, who weed just isn't enough for. They need something more, something that takes them higher. Those people, they break off into one of two paths, oddly enough both often lead to the same place. They either start with pills: Ecstasy, MDMA, or Perks. Or they go the more hallucinogenic route: acid, mushrooms, or mescaline. I don't fuck around with those. You got someone not knowing what's real and what's not, that gets you in trouble.

For some people that's enough. They have a few feel good experiences on molly, danced, fucked, whatever. Or they tripped their balls off in the park, staring at the sky playing with butterflies, getting in touch with the world around them and now they're done. But then, yet again, the herd thins, and some graduate.

Your graduates will either go with more perks or coke and in most cases both. You see drugs are ok now. So which ones, doesn't really matter as much, as long as you're still the same person. So you set rules, things that you won't do. Things that you can't do and still look at yourself in the mirror. You tell yourself that you won't steal. You say won't sell but then time passes.

Although, there are some exceptions, but people who make it this far, they've typically lost sight of the rabbit hole. You can't lie to yourself anymore. Those rules you made, those rules that were so important, that defined you are a person, have now become that which defines you as an addict. They were really just landmarks; milestones to let you know how far you've fallen. It happens faster with coke. It's more expensive and it's easy to spot a coke head. But a kid in college who likes his pain pills, that's harder to spot, that's easier to explain to people. That's more socially acceptable. And most importantly, it's easier to justify to yourself. You had an injury, so you should take these. That old back is acting up again. Take one, it will help.

Then, as time passes, socially acceptable kinda starts to fade away. Your parents don't matter anymore. Your friends, they're not your friends anymore. They've changed. If you want to get high then what business is it of theirs? Then your justification becomes, "I don't want to get sick." Money is tight. Then heroin becomes the cheaper alternative. Congratulations. You are now officially fucked.

*

This use to be simple. I don't know how it got so fucked up. Brian's slammed behind me and I found myself faced with the rest of the world. GODDAMN HIM! Everything that I need is right behind that door. The mild nausea and sounds from my stomach tell me it's time to go. I started walking as fast as I could. I need to get high now. NOW! NOW! NOW! I can't wait. I need to get better before it gets worse.

With every step I take I can feel my legs and back writhing in pain, but I press on. The short walk to my car feels like a marathon. Each step, my pain rising, each step, the car seems to be getting farther and farther away.

Once in the car, I quickly move to purpose. I start speeding down Bloomfield Ave. This is what I didn't want to happen. This is where I didn't want to go. I can't fuckin believe he would turn his back on me! After all I've done for him. All the money I've put in his pocket. I reach up and wipe the snot away from my nose. Why! I just need another hit. Christ! It's not like he's never sold to me before. Why now?

At the red light I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and realize that I am sweating profusely. Goddamn fever. The desire to get high is only matched by the desire to not be sick. C'mon! What the fuck! Why is this light so long! Traffic begins to move and I can feel my skin crawl. My hands are hard pressed to the steering wheel as though pushing it forward would cause me to move quicker.

Again, another goddamn light. I'm almost there. C'mon! C'mon! C'mon! Rising up from my stomach I can feel my body's own disgust with me. Relax Alec, it will get better soon. You'll be better soon. I yack hard and dry heave. There's nothing in my stomach to puke up. I am empty. And I need to fill my soul with something. The light turns and I nail the gas. I turn off the main street and find what I'm looking for. This is not where I want to be, but I have no choice. I need this. This is my air.

I pull up to the corner and one of the kids comes over to my car.

"What?" the kid asks.

"I need five for four," I said, my jaw starting to clench from the shakes.

"Four for four," he responded.

"C'mon man, don't do me like that." I can taste snot in my mouth. My nose must be running. I reach my sleeve up and whip it away.

"Four for Four," he says to me again with a strong resolve in his tone.

"Alright." I grab the forty dollars out of my pocket and reach over and hand it to him. He walks away from the car and signals to the other kid nearby. The other kid, wearing almost the same clothes comes up and drops four bags in my hand.

YES! OH GOD I'VE GOT IT! I MADE IT! I look up as if to say thank you but he's already started running. They've all started running. What the fuck? Out of the corner of my eye I catch the side mirror and see the cops running up the side of the car. Fuck! I look down at the shifter and pull the car into drive.

Two big meaty hands reach in the window and grab me by the shirt. I try to think of a place to hide the bags, but it's too late. I'm out of the car already, pulled through the window. The bright sun beaming down on me is almost blinding. Then he rolls me over and cuffs me. Fuck.

Back at the station they chain me to a table in an interview room. This is an ungodly place. Bland walls, no windows, there is only a table, chairs, and a light burning down on me. It's so goddamn hot in here. I keep trying to wipe my face off on my shirt, but I can't get my arm up high enough. It's cuffed to the table.

"Get it me out of here!" I scream. The pain in my voice, they have to hear it. They have to help me. The door opens. Thank god, get me out of here!

"Please, I'm sick," I say to a burly man in casual dress wear.

"Oh I can see that," he responded with absolutely no empathy at all.

"You... You gotta help me man!"

"What's wrong?" he asked with a sarcastic tone.

"I... I don't feel good."

"What are you sick with?" The man leaned forward and peered in toward me.

"I think I have the flu."

"Really? Cause it looks like heroin withdrawal to me."

I said nothing.

"Is it bad?" He nodded to himself, "It's gonna get a lot worse too." He pulls the chair out and sits down. "How longs it been since you had your medicine?"

"Hours... not since... not since last night. Please I need it!"

"Oh I can help you. Don't worry. But why would I?" He looked up at the ceiling.

"Please man c'mon! I just need... get me to a doctor!" I demanded.

"Just relax. We've got all the time in the world," he said as he leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers behind his head.

"C'mon! I need to use the bathroom!"

"You can in a few minutes."

My stomach is twisting. This fucking son of a bitch! The heat, the heat coming down on me is straight from Hell. It must be a hundred degrees in this goddamn room and this smug son of a bitch is laughing at me. God I just want to lie down. Please. I am on the verge of tears when my stomach convulses. I spew vomit on the table and nearly shit my pants.

"Oh what the fuck!" he screams as he stands up and the door opens then closes quickly behind him. I can't believe it's come to this. Everything that I had, everything that I was going to have has come to this. I am ashamed. I can't stop the tears from coming anymore. Sitting in a chair strapped to a desk with no windows, covered in my own vomit, all I can do is weep.

*

Sometime later another two men walk in, different men, not the same guy as before. One is a wearing a workman's onesie. The other wore a suit and tie, minus the jacket.

"Help us out here." The suited man says and the man who I can only assume is the janitor begins to clean up my messy table. The man has a bottle of water in his hand and a snickers bar.

"Here." he says. "I've heard that sugar helps," he paused, "Keeps things under wraps a bit."

"Thank you!"

I open the water bottle and chug. I feel the acid from my stomach burning my throat as I swallow the water. I peeled back the wrapper but couldn't bring myself to take a bite.

"Listen Alec, I don't want to hurt you. When I look at you, I see a kid who got suckered into the wrong path. I see a kid who can do great things with his life if he's put back on the right path"

I stared at him hanging on to each and every word.

"You need to get clean, then get yourself back in school. You've got a lot of life left to live. Do you want to live that life?"

"Yes!" I said with a nod as I took another swig from the water bottle.

"Good, because it's either that life... Or this one. It can't be both. You can go to jail or you can go home, go to rehab, get out and start living. Maybe meet a nice girl, settle down."

He pulled another chair up, one that wasn't covered in vomit and sat next to me.

"You like girls right?" the cop asked.

"Yeah," I said hinting at a smile.

"Yes?" he asked again.

"Yes."

"And you like the idea of starting your life over?"

"Yes."

"Alright, good. It's not going to be easy but you're going to need to trust me and we'll get through this. Can you do that?"

"Yes," I said feeling a glimmer of hope.

"Can you trust me?" the cop asked.

"Yes."

"Alright. I'm going to get you some soda with some sugar, and see what I can do about getting you some meds."

"Thanks you!"

The janitor and my new found friend walked out of the room and the door swung close.

A few minutes later, my friend is back again. He brought me a coke. After I take a few sips from the can, I feel a little better. It's still hot as hell in this room and I've poured half of my water over my head. But my stomach feels better.

"Alright Alec, here's the deal I was able to work out for you."

I nod quickly.

"There are two doors here. One. You go to lock up. You get sick and you wait it out there until your trial, where you'll get sentenced to a few years in prison. You will be a felon. Every job application you fill out, every school app, will have felon written on it in big red letters."

"Door number two: you help us. You get to go to rehab. Detox the right way. Stay out of prison. Go back to school. Get a real job, meet a real girl, have a real life."

"Help you?" I asked suspiciously.

"Not just help me. You get to help yourself....and your brother."

My eyes shot open. "What?"

The officer spoke slowly, letting his words sink in deep.

"Yeah, that brother of yours is a smart one too. Too bad we caught him pushing pills on MSU's campus. You know what they do to drug dealers? They throw him out, he gets fired from his job and he goes to jail too. Now I want to help you both. I like you guys. I see a lot of potential for you to do good in this world. And I think you'd do a lot more good out there together as a family, than in prison, trying to keep one another from getting raped."

I put my head in my hands. Fuck.
Chapter 17  
Mike

"Beep! Beep! Beep!" My alarm clock screams. I reach over and slam the off button with all the conviction of a Monday morning. Is it really 8:00 A.M. already? I glance at the clock. Yes it is. Shit. I stretch my arms and legs, giving way to a deep yawn. Alright let's do this! I roll off the side of my bed and sit there for a moment adjusting to the light and the new found consciousness that interrupted my slumber. I rub my face with both hands, then pressing my feet to the soft carpet, I stand up.

I walk to the dark wood dresser of my bedroom and pull out a pair of basketball shorts. I put them on and grab a pair of running shoes that lay next to one another at the foot of my bed. I lace up and after a quick bathroom stop, walk out to the kitchen of my one bedroom apartment.

My apartment is small, yet sufficient, boasting a kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, and dining room, which I use as an office. It's all neatly stacked into a seven hundred square foot box. The walls of my living room are draped in bookshelves, holding the literally thousands of dollars in books I would need to complete my degree, various pictures of friends and family and of course, my varsity memorabilia.

The kitchen is small and practical. It has just enough space for a single occupant who doesn't entertain large groups. My apartment building is located less than five miles from campus and less than two miles from my job. I am the assistant coach for the high school football team. Not a bad gig for my situation.

My classes are all in the morning and I don't have to be at work until after school hours. The coach lets me go when I have midterms or something like that. I guess after kicking my ass for four years, he feels I've earned some leeway.

This is my last year at Montclair, and at the high school. Then it's off to real world, where the real money is. I hold fantasies about an executive job in the city. I've always had a passion for NYC, the energy, the atmosphere, and most of all, for the understanding that comes with living in a big city.

I pull a single glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. I chug then refill the glass. Need to stay hydrated for my run. I walk over and turned on my computer. In the moments that the computer takes to boot up I finish the rest of the glass. Another moment or so of opening documents and my paper is printing. There is no greater sound then the warming up of my printer. It signifies the completion and another task on my road to success. I have an Econ paper due at 11:00 A.M. which will hopefully maintain my current GPA. I savored the printer sound for just a moment, and then it's time to go. I put the glass down and walk out the door grabbing my keys off the end table on my way out.

Trotting down the stairs to the ground level, I place my headphones on. The snug fit of the twin buds in my ears will soon fill the world with music and I will blackout the pain of a run with the fantasies of my future.

I'm nearly four blocks from my apartment complex, fully submerged in a daydream. One of my favorites actually: coming home for Christmas and telling my parents about the new job. How I'm doing so well. How I'm making so much money and how happy I am. Then a car stops in the street right as I am about to cross. The doors swing open and two men get out. This isn't a marked cop car, but has the look of government all over it. American made, 4 door sedan with two occupants who appear to be law enforcement.

"Michael Stanton?" One of them calls out. My jog slows to a walk riddled with confusion. I'm not caught. If I was they would have picked me up selling, not jogging. This must be something else. I nodded slowly breathing heavily.

"Detectives Murphy and Gallo. Come with us," the other officer says.

"What's going on?" I asked through heavy breaths.

"Well explain in the car." He motioned to the back of the car

"Am I under arrest?"

"You can be." Officer Gallo peers at me stepping aside to allow the pathway to the back door of the sedan to be clear. I nodded and slowly walked to the car. When I gripped the handle, my arm began to shake. I pulled the car door open and sat down.

The two front doors closed and the officers began taking me away.

"What's this about?" I ask.

"It's about your brother."

"Is he ok?" I ask quickly.

"We don't know. We were just supposed to get you."

"What happened?"

No response from the front seat.

I choked up. My jaw became tense with emotion. "Is he dead?"

The officer sensing my despair threw me a bone.

"Kid, if he was dead, we wouldn't be the ones to come get you."

A wave of relief washed over me and for a brief moment I feel at ease, then the undertow comes. This is still really fucking bad. Why would they get me? What could have possibly happened?

*

Walking through the police station, I couldn't control my anxiety or my pulse. The rows of cubicles and filing cabinets were complete with uniformed officers. It was the bane of existence for anyone in my situation. The colors of navy blue and badge silver represent a lack of freedom to people like us.

They sat me in an interrogation room. It's a little different then I had imagined. I've always seen them as large rooms with a two way mirror. A signal to let you know that everything you say and do is being watched. You are under observation and any lies you tell will be quickly realized.

I took a seat in the cold metal chair. There were hooks for handcuffs to be secured in, but I wasn't in handcuffs. Before I could adjust to my new environment two officers walked in. One was average height with a gut. He hasn't been doing any running recently. The other was in fairly good shape and a little taller than me. The fat guy was carrying a folder with him. Think! Think damn it! What are you supposed to do in this situation?

"Hello Mike," said the fatty.

"I want my lawyer," I responded.

"What for?" asked tons of fun.

"I want my lawyer!" I demanded.

"Have you been mirandized?"

I looked at him puzzled.

"Has anyone read you your rights? You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to a lawyer, etc.?"

I shook my head.

"Well, then you aren't under arrest. So you have the right to calm down a bit. This is more of a courtesy call."

"What happened to my brother?"

"Oh him? He's pretty fucked up, but you knew that already right?"

I stare motionlessly.

"And he really fucked up. You see, he got himself caught buying dope by one of our officers. Now this will be a second offense for him. That means jail time," fatty paused a moment to let me think, "You know people are never the same when they come out as when they went in. And he won't be. Not looking the way he does. It's a shame, he's got all the looks in your family didn't he?"

I looked away from the officer. Fuck him.

"You know what happens to guys like him in prison? It's not pretty. As skinny as he is, as pretty as he is? He's going to make some big guy really happy. They'll be a cute couple."

"Fuck you alright."

"Oh, you wanna play that game huh?" He reaches down and opens the folder. I glance down, and inside the folder are pictures of me selling. Fuck me. The officer leaned in. And in a low tone, "Fuck you Mike. You done fucked up. Those are pictures of you selling pills to kids. Now I don't care if they're your age. The jury will still see them as kids. I'll make sure of that."

"Fuck," I said, and put my head in my hands.

"Where is this Mike? This is on campus isn't it? Yeah I bet it is. You know what that means? That adds a bump to your charge. You're an over achiever aren't you?" he continued, "You're selling dope on school property. You know what that means?"

I can't bring myself to look up. My entire world is crashing around me.

"Well that means, for starters... you're fired! You're also kicked out of school. But that's not the best part. The best part is: you're a felon! It's a good thing you're in good shape, you're gonna need it. Hey, maybe you can be the team captain for the Essex County Corrections team. And just think, when you get out, you'll have a great future ahead of you as a gas station attendant. You know, McDonald's wouldn't even hire you."

The other officer broke his silence and chimed in.

"You're fucked Mike. What we have here is enough to get a conviction on you. To fuck your life up and make sure you see the inside of a prison cell. And he's right... you are never the same when you come out." He paused. "But we don't want it to play that way."

Tears and snot are flowing from my face without my control. Everything is falling apart. I am drowning in a sea of my own sins.

"Mike. Look at me," the slim officer said.

I sniffle trying to suck the snot back into my nose and wipe my eyes. I look up at the fit officer, trying to hold back my tears.

"I know all about you Mike. I know all about your brother. I feel as though I understand you." He leaned on the corner of the table. "Selling isn't what you do. It's a means to an end. College is very expensive these days. And you weren't good enough for an athletic scholarship. But you're smart and you're a good person. And I think you have more to offer the world then just another statistic in a jail cell."

I sniffled and nodded.

"Truth is, we don't want you. We don't want your brother either. I could lock you up sure. But why? You are not a criminal, neither is he. He's just a kid who got mixed up, same as you."

I sniffled and sputter out, "So what do you want from me?"

The fit officer leaned back off the table and placed both of his hands palms down on the surface. Then he spoke.

"I want you to finish college. I want you to get a job and impact the world for the better. I want your brother to go to rehab. I want him to come out and begin a real life. He has a lot of potential still, as long as he can get away from his habits," I nodded in agreement, "But we can't ignore this," He said pointing at the folder. "But if you help us, we can make it go away." He closed the folder.

"Like I said, we don't want you, we want Brian. But more than Brian, we want James Tunnley, AKA Jimmy T."

My eyes shot open.

"You see Brian isn't like you. I think you know that by now. Brian will never be anything but a drug dealer. He will never be a productive member of society. The world will not benefit from his freedom. It will only be more toxic. Brian doing a year or two in prison will actually improve the quality of life for people in your town."

"So if I help you, what happens to me and Alec?"

"Nothing. You both leave. Alec gets checked into a rehab facility. And you go about your life."

"Brian will fucking kill me," I said softly.

"If you tell him," the officer nodded, "Look here's how this is going play out. You are going to get Brian to buy from a Narco. He won't know that you're involved until the trial. And that's not coming for at least a year if ever."

"If ever?" I asked puzzled.

"If he rolls on Jimmy T, he gets the same deal as you," the officer explained.

"There's no way he's rolling on Jimmy." I shook my head.

"He might, if he doesn't he goes to jail. Same deal as you." He paused for effect.

"So what if I help, but Brian doesn't?"

"Once you help us, you are done, even if he doesn't."

"So I help you get Brian, and Alec and I get our lives back?"

The officers both nodded.

"What do I have to do?"

Chapter 18  
Mike

Hours later, I'm standing nearly naked in a small room in the police station. I would have thought that this would have gone slower, more planning, more thinking maybe. But apparently that's not the way to go. It's bum rush kamikaze style. They don't want you to think at all, they just want you to follow orders. Do what you said you'll do, then go the fuck home and live your life. But what could I really say?

The officer and some specialists are fitting me for a recording device. I say fitting, because the only comparable experience I have to this, is getting fitting for a suit. I'm wearing nothing but my black boxers and right now they are tucked up in my crotch while they tape a small metal recording device to my inner thigh. They tell me the idea here, is that Brian will probably touch me, at least a handshake. Hell it would be awkward if he didn't shake my hand. Maybe even give me a hug, a forearm to forearm bro hug. But there's no real chance he's gonna grab my dick. I concur.

Specialist number two is shaving small patches of hair on my chest to improve the traction of the industrial tape that will hold the mic in place.

"Alright, so let's go over it again" says the officer, "You got a buyer for Brian. Why aren't you servicing him yourself?"

"I'm afraid he might try to rip me off."

"How much does he want?"

"An ounce."

"Of what?"

"Heroin."

"Yes. It's important that you say heroin. No code, no slang. But don't force it. We'll have enough with him caught at the scene. But this locks it down for us. Ok?"

I nodded. "Heroin just isn't a word that we use a lot you know?"

"I know. Even if you say it weird, like her-ron just as long as it sounds like heroin and he agrees. Got it?"

I nodded. The wire was now firmly secured to my chest.

"Speak normally," said the specialist.

"And say what?"

"Keep going," he encouraged.

"I'm going to rat out my best friend in order to save my brother. If only Sophie had a choice quite this simple."

Specialist number one looked at number two and said, "We got it."

"Alright now remember. You're the one who's different here. Not him. He's not going to suspect anything."

"And how the hell do you know that?" I said sharply.

"Because he's a drug dealer, not a psychic. We've kept you and your brother off the radar. You're gonna be just fine. Just keep your cool and get in and out as quickly as you can. Now where do you have to be?"

"At work," I paused, "Coaches meeting," I said with fake confidence.

"Good. So go set up the meet and get out."

"Here's the officer's number. Rewrite it in your own handwriting." They handed me a yellow piece of paper and a pen. "Now we're gonna drop you off back by your car. You're going to get a sweatshirt to make sure he doesn't see that wire. And you're going to go there right now. So call him to set up the meet."

"No need." I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Brian "Yo coming through," the message read.

"We don't talk any kind of business on the phone. He's paranoid like that."

"He's not as careful as you think. He's paranoid but he lacks the discipline."

Chapter 19  
Mike

Knock! Knock! My fist pounded on the door. My heart began to race. I knew that it would be only moments before I was forced into a decision. The cool metal of the recording device pressed against my inner thigh served as a reminder, that there was no decision. My decision was already made. I am a rat, a betrayal, the lowest of scum.

The door swung open. Brian stood there in basketball shorts and a tang top. Although I must outweigh him by twenty pounds or more, he's still intimidating. He stands at nearly six feet tall. His body is lean and muscular. His stature allows him to move fast. And his years of training have brought his reaction time down to milliseconds. Tribal tattoos and Chinese symbols wrap around his shoulders and spiral down his left arm. His neck is thick, so much so that all of his dress shirts have to be custom made. His hair is short. It's tactical as is his lack of piercings.

In high school everyone would get their ear pierced, eyebrow, lip, whatever, but not him. If he has a piercing, it gives you a target. Getting punched in the eyebrow ring will make you bleed. A lip ring can knock out your teeth. And long hair becomes a handle to hold as you bash his face in with your knee. All he's done for the last four years is train, fight, and sell drugs.

"Knocking on my door like the goddamn police," he said in fake angst accompanied by a smile.

"What's really good bro?" he said offering me a handshake. Remain calm, remain calm.

"Same old, you know," I responded

"C'mon in. I was about to blaze this spliff your just in time."

"Nah man... not today."

He stopped, and turned to me. Oh fuck. "Not today? What's up?" he questioned. Is he suspicious? Was that normal? My heartbeat began to quicken. Remember what they said, think. THINK.

"I uhh, I got a meeting with the coach in a minute. Don't wanna show up all fucked up you know." I flashed him a grin and tried not to sound nervous.

"Yeah I gotchu," he said as he turned away and led me down the hallway. The white titled hallway opened up to a large living room with high ceilings. The wood floors were stained white, which as tacky as that sounds, actually looks good. Every step through the townhouse, I keep catching glimpses of myself in the many mirrors that adorned his black and white life.

When I think of it, it makes a lot of sense. He thinks it looks classy or that the black and white abstract paintings on the wall make him seem deep. But it actually shows just how shallow he is. There is no depth. Everything either is or isn't with him and there are no exceptions. You're either good or bad, rich or poor, friend or foe. I was either family or a disgrace.

He walked around the mirrored coffee table and plopped down on his black leather couch. He picked the blunt up off the table and lit it.

With a deep exhale he said, "So to what do I owe this pleasure?" This is it. For some reason when I made this call it didn't seem real to me, like I would never really make it here. At the time it was the best decision, but now I can feel the walls closing in, the extended high ceilings, paid for with the suffering of others, lowering down. I shimmy on the couch and swallow hard. God I hope he didn't notice that.

"I got this fiend up my ass, telling me he's got some dough." As the words left my lips I could feel my voice heighten. It was the surge of adrenaline or terror, at this point I can't even tell anymore. Stop that. Stop it right now. Deep breath.

"Yeah? That sounds like one of those good problems," Brian responded.

"Yeah, true." I paused. "If it was nickel and dime shit I wouldda just handled it myself. But he's looking for a little weight so I figured I'd pass the word on." That's good, better. Stop thinking, stop focusing on your breathing. Act natural. This will all be over soon. Five minutes tops and you're out of here.

"I could front you," he responded. Of course he could front me. Even if he didn't have piles of cash he still had a line of credit with the old coach. Why wouldn't he just front me? Fuck! I can feel the pressure weighting down on me. I feel like I have a fucking fever!

"Nah man, the less I talk to this mother fucker the better. Besides, I don't know him like that. Maybe the fiends got a boy or two and looking to make a run you know what I mean?" Good, act natural, compliment him. That's what they said to do.

He nodded.

"And everyone knows what happens if they runs on you."

"True. True." Brian smiled. "So how do you know him?" He took another pull from the blunt and reached his hand out to pass it to me. I shook my head at him. Everything's normal, remember: I'm the one who's different not him.

"He's been buying off me for a while. Little shit. Ten here, twenty there, but now we're talking an ounce," I said opening my hands sideways exposing my palms.

"So he's not a student then?"

"Nah man, no kids I gotta deal with."

That's my rule with Brian. I don't deal with any kids from the school. I'm the assistant coach for fucks sake. Although, Brian wouldn't care. In his eyes as long as they paid, it's fine.

Instead, he deals prepackaged bags to few kids and they handle it from there. Weed, coke, pills, whatever they want. Whatever they have the cash for. I just dealt with friends from college and the people I knew that he didn't or didn't want to deal with. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's just always been this way.

"True, that's smart, never give 'em the upper hand." I nodded. Like yeah, don't let people have the upper hand over you. I'm so close to a degree I can fucking taste it and he's got the upper hand on me, the cops have the upper hand on me, even my fucking brother obviously has an upper hand on me.

"So pills or homie up in straight dope?" Ok here's the important part. Need to let it be recognized that it's heroin. That's the ticket for the cops. I get that on tape and I get the upper hand... Well at least even ground.

"Dope fiend, dawg. Straight heroin," I said, sounding more natural than I have all day.

"Alright, I'll scope it out. You got his number?" Brian asked.

"Yeah." I reached into my pocket and as I went to grab the paper I felt the recording device move and all of a sudden, I felt painfully aware of the situation and what would happen if he were to find out. I pulled the yellow piece of paper out of my pocket. As I leaned over and placed the note on the mirrored coffee table I locked eyes with my own reflection and my heart stopped beating.

"You alright bro?" Fuck, pull it together. It's time to go. Fix it and get out get out! NOW!

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Got this meeting and I'm kinda thinking it might be the 'What the fuck do you do here?' kinda meeting," I spouted out, the nervous chuckling tone back in my voice.

"Nahhh don't worry. That old man don't wanna run those practices by himself. You imagine him chasing down wide receivers?" Brian said. He laughed and I did as well. His was natural mine was out of sheer panic.

"True, alright bro I gotta dip," I said standing up.

"Already?" He asked with a bit of a suspicious look. Stupid as he is, he's always been perceptive.

"Yeah." I paused. "Ya know gotta get to the J O B." I said with a little chuckle that came out more like a stutter.

"Hang for a minute man. Even if you're not gonna partake, you can still enjoy the smell of this sweet weed," Brian said. Now I know he's thinking something. Never that I'm setting him up, but maybe that I have a lot on my mind or something is bothering me and he wants to find out what.

"Nah bro, I'm out." I reached my hand out to him and he slapped it.

"Alright man," he said. His words came as I was rushing down the hallway and practically out the door. No more, that's it! No more at all! I need to get the fuck out of here. I pulled the door open and stepped out of his sanctuary of black and white certainties. The door swung closed behind me and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I power walked to my car. Each step I prayed that he wouldn't open the door to ask me a question or to follow up with something. And he didn't. I was free.

Chapter 20  
Brian

Hours later, my bail is met. God bless America. Between the corrupt judges and the flawed penal system, I am out the same night I was arrested. Leaving the jail, I stepped out onto the hard concrete steps. I grasped the railing and saw the vehicle of my escape. There, the black Lincoln parked across the street. I told the cops that I called my uncle. Jimmy is almost like an uncle, or a close family friend, that kind of thing. But sometimes I feel as though he is more of a father than my actual one, for the last four years especially. He has taken me under his wing. He's taught me the way of the world and inspired me to be more than the hand I was dealt.

Four years ago, it all ended. A miscalculation on my part, or an overzealous opponent, or hell, even a tear in the mat, I don't know anymore. It doesn't matter. It all ended. My Olympic try outs, my scholarships, everything. My dad could barely look at me. I was a failure to him. The prized son turned cripple. It was as though I brought shame to him somehow. Like I had planned this, like my entire life was the collaborated efforts of my mom and him to bring me to this point, to this fight, so that I could fulfill the dreams he couldn't. But just like him, I didn't. History has a funny way of repeating itself. Ever since then we've never been the same. Now we're more like pen pals then family.

Jimmy still believed in me, despite all the heartache, despite all the sinking of dreams and aspirations. The sinking that took with it my father's pride and mother's love. All that was left was Jimmy. Weeks after my injury while the cast was still strong, riddled with the illegible signatures of classmates, he came to me. He told me that there was a reason for everything. And that this reason was for me to find out what I was really good at.

When I was laid up in the hospital bed with a torn ACL, LCL, and a fractured tibia, he was there for me. When the whole world seemed to forget about me, to turn its back, he was there. I mean senior year of all times. That meant no time to recover. No time to try again. It was game over. Although, no matter how much time I had, my leg never would have been strong enough for the Olympics. The only reason I've been able to fight as long as I have is keeping it wrapped and make sure my sparring buddies lay off it.

I oddly feel almost like a conquering hero as I walk out to his car. He wasn't the one to bail me out, but he was pulling their strings. Too much attention if he's on record helping me. I crossed the street with a slow purposeful walk. And gripped the sleek black handle of the Lincoln and opened the door.

Sitting on the black leather seats I found myself face to face with Jimmy. Tommy was driving. I assume this was so Jimmy's car wasn't in front of the police station picking me up. It was me and Jimmy in the back. I pulled the door closed and the car took off.

"You know you fucked up right?" he began.

"Hey man, how was I supposed to know?" I said in my own defense.

A stinging backhand lashed across my face. "HOW WAS YOU SUPPOSED TO KNOW? Jimmy screamed, "That's why you do what you do, because you're supposed to fucking know! You fucking ingrate!" He was breathing heavily.

"You know what this means now?" Jimmy continued, "It means your fucking marked. It means every time you do something, someone's watching."

I glared back at him, my heart beginning to pump, my chest rising and falling with each rage filled breath. My fists grew to a clutch dying to swing with purpose.

"Alright, alright, calm down. I'm sorry kid. You know I'd never hurt ya."

My hands relaxed slightly. My breaths still deep and rapid.

"Any idea how they pegged you?"

"No,"I said with a tone of definiteness, "I did everything like you taught me. I drove around beforehand. I scoped the place out. There were no cops at all. I was on my shit! You gotta believe me!" My eyes shot open and I locked eyes with Jimmy to let him know I was for real.

Jimmy let out a sigh and nodded his head. "Then someone ratted you out. How well did you know the guy you met up with?"

"He's Mike's friend."

"You trust him?"

"Mike?" I asked?

"No the fuckin cop that locked you up! Yeah, Mike!"

"Yeah I trust him." I looked out the window watching the streets of my childhood pass, understanding that they now had new meaning.

"Alright, only one way to find out. I'm gonna talk to my guy and figure out what the fuck happened here. In the meantime you stay fuckin low. And I mean fuckin low. No dealing, no fights, no nothing. You get popped again and your fuckin done for, I can't help you. You understand?"

"Yeah" I said peering out the window.

He slapped my shoulder, "What the fuck did I just say?"

I quickly turned my gaze onto him, aggressively and spoke through my teeth. "No dealing, no fighting... Keep it low."

"That's right! And what happens if you get caught again?"

"I'm done."

Jimmy nodded.

The car slowed down outside my house.

"Got it," I said with obvious distain in my voice. He thinks he can fucking touch me like that? Who the hell does he think he is? All the fuckin money I've made for him and this is what I get? I'm the fucking golden goose you old fuck! I'm your in to the entire youth of this town. Better fuckin recognize.

I got out of the car and slammed the door. This is the point in the story where the window rolls down and he gives me some advice that shows he's really out for my best interest. Well sorry friends, but that doesn't happen. The car speeds away and I walk up to my townhouse.

*

The next morning I awake. Dread sets in. My life as I know it is over. The days of employment and all night parties has come to an end. Now what's in store for me? Get a job? Get the fuck out of here! I'm way too good for that shit. Why would I want to bust my ass like all of those people I graduated with who are too big of pussies to go out and make it on their own? I don't need someone to tell me how to make money. Making money is what I do! I'm a fucking hustler and I'll be damned if this is the end of me.

I pulled the blankets up over my head and hope to sleep for another few hours and forget about this unholy mess that has since bequest itself upon me. But I am awoken by a phone call on my private cell. Only a few people have this number and it's only used for private conversations. The sound of the Mozart ringtone immediately grabs my attention. I fling the covers off and roll over to the wall side of my bed and reach down to grab the phone. It's Jimmy.

"Hello?"

"Hey kid, we need to talk right now."

"Meet me at the diner."

"Alright."

The line goes dead. The diner that he's talking about is only about five minutes from my place. This is a normal meeting spot for us so that we can talk about business. No business is ever conducted there though. That's really important. You need to keep things separate. That way if anyone's ever looking into to you, they don't have our whole operation at once.

I grab a pair of jeans, the same pair that I was wearing last night, and pull them up, secure my belt, and check for my stuff. Wallet, cash, phone, keys. Alright, I'm ready to go.

Ten minutes later, I'm sitting across from Jimmy at our usual meeting spot. He always has the same table in this diner. Part of me wonders if they even serve other people here when he's at home, or if it's his on constant reserve. I mean it's either that or every time he walks in the damn door they throw some poor asshole out of his table.

"Hey kid, how ya holding up?"

"I'm alright," I assured him, "What's up?"

"Alright." He paused and looked me square in the eyes. "I'm gonna tell you something, you ain't gonna like it. Don't react ok?"

I nodded slowly, "O...K...."

"We know how the cops got you. My guy on the inside told me that your buddy Mike set you up." My eyes shot open.

"What?" I said slowly and dramatically.

"Remember no reaction. Deep breaths kid." He said with an agitated tone. I inhaled deeply and let it out.

"There has to be a mistake," I bargained.

"Nah, it had something to do with his brother. The detective who ran him in is really keeping things quiet. My guy had to do some snooping to find out. What's the deal with his brother?

"He's a fiend, use to be hot shit, all smart, and going places, now he's just a junkie."

"He owe you money or something?"

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"A grand."

"Damn! And you let him get away with that?"

"It's Mike's brother, that's the only reason."

"Alright, for second I was worried you were losing your touch."

I glared at him. "No...I'm not."

"Alright kid calm down. Look here's how we handle this. You're gonna do exactly nothing alright? Nothing. Just like we said before. You lay low and let me work things out with the lawyer. This isn't a big deal for you. It's a big deal for some poor smuck who can't afford a good guy. But we gotcha a good guy. Everything's gonna be fine."

I say nothing and just stare at him.

Obviously not enthused by my expression, Jimmy narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in the booth. "Repeat what I just said."

Without breaking eye contact I sputtered his exact words back to him, "I will do nothing. You will take care of it."

"Good." He paused. "And kid, I really fucking mean it. You fuck up again and I can't help you. You're done. You understand?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Chapter 21  
Brian

The subjugated parking lot near the locker room appeared almost like a dark alleyway. A single street light in the distance over the cars, but the actual exit was pitch black at night. No one's ever worried about it, because what's going to happen to a squad of football players leaving at night? Nothing, you'd have to be crazy to want that fight. But the assistant coach? The cheese stands alone.

Mike's position as the assistant coach made him key in distribution. He wouldn't sell to the players himself. But he would keep me in the picture. Then word gets passed down from graduating class to graduating class. It's amazing. It's almost like the untold secret passed down by word of mouth through the generations. Mike watched out for them and in exchange they helped move product around the high school. Poisoning the youth with narcotics was really as evil as the promises of excellence. All the falsified hallucinations birthed by parents and fed to their children to keep them in line. Keep them practicing, keep them under control.

The shadows conceal me as I wait and plot for the assistant coach and distributor to walk out of the back exit by the locker room. The team left fifteen minutes ago, which means he should be rearing his escape presently. I stand in the darkness. The only sign of life is the orange glow from my cigarette. I'm not usually a smoker, but this is a special circumstance.

The door opens and Mike steps out with a duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Assistant!" I shout as I slowly walk upon him, taking a long drag from my cigarette, then flicking it into the river beside the school.

"Brian? What the hell are you doing here?" His words saturated by fear, hastily escaped his mouth.

"Didn't think I'd be out yet? Didn't plan for that huh?"

"What?"

"I know what you did! You fuck!" I screamed as I walked in closer to him, "For a thousand dollars! I would have let it go if you asked! How could you do this to me?" He looked stunned. Speechless. That son of a bitch. He never thought it would come to this. He probably thought that once I was away, his brother was fine. Guess what mother fucker, things change. And rats go down with the ship. I cocked back and threw a hard right cross that landed against the side of his cheekbone. He collapsed against the ground, then quickly sat up.

"What the fuck!" Mike yelled.

"You fucking fuck! You fuckin did it!" Rage spewed from my lips.

I leaned in and clocked him on the chin from an elevated position. His face hit the ground with authority. Mike was big, he was a football player, not much of a fighter, but still no reason to risk it. He was wheezing now, trying to get words out muffled through blood.

"I fucking loved you like a brother!" I screamed and pulled my arm back and launched a strong punch at him. All of my might, all of my rage funneled through my body and into these punches. I felt the giving of his bones under the pressure of my fists.

By the time I was done I could barely lift my arms. His face was a bloody mess. His eyes were swollen shut. His nose completely disfigured. His teeth were sitting on the ground next to him. I sat there for a minute, on his chest. He was still breathing but completely out.

I couldn't help but tear up looking down at the destruction I had caused. But what choice did I have? He didn't leave me one. He knows the rules. You never rat on your friends. If I wasn't such a nice guy I would have killed him. All over a thousand dollars, all over some stupid debt that means nothing to me. He knew I'd never hurt Alec. I fuckin loved him like a little brother. I can't believe it's come to this. I pushed up and stood up off of his chest. I looked down at him and walked away. I knew that this was a path that had to be taken, but it wasn't one that I was happy to be walking on. I'll probably get another six months for this one, but it was worth it. This kind of shit can't go unpunished.

Chapter 22  
Jimmy

My private line started to ring. It was early, 7:00 A.M. I looked down at the phone and saw the number. It was my cop on the inside. I bailed him out of a gambling debt and now he owes me huge. Cop or not, when you owe the wrong people money, your life isn't worth shit. They'll kill you all the same.

"Hey."

"Hey we need to talk," the voice said.

"What's going on?" I rubbed my face to get the sleep out of my eyes.

"That witness, Mike Stanton."

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Someone beat him into a coma last night. The janitor found him this morning in the parking lot with his face smashed in."

I shot up in bed. "Holy shit, is he alright?" I asked.

"No. He's in a coma now. Doctors say he may never wake up. Any idea how this happened?"

"No, none. This is the first I'm hearing of it."

"Well get your ducks in a row. If this was your boy, his DNA is all over the victim. That's attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and witness tampering. He's looking at a lot of time, if it was him." The officer was careful not to make any allegations.

"I have no idea. I'll look into it."

"Ok, also got that kid for ya. He's sweating it out right now. I'll give him his phone call in a minute."

"Alright. I'll send Tommy over."

"Ok."

Click. The line went dead. Goddamn it. Tell me this kid didn't do that, after I specifically told him not to do anything. I'll fucking kill him. He just took a short bid and turned it into a god damn life sentence. He couldn't possibly be so fucking stupid could he? Who am I kidding? Hell yeah he is. I knew it the second the cop told me Mike's name. Fuck! This is bad. I know this kid. He's a goddamn warrior. But when looking down at twenty years he might reconsider his loyalty to me. And it wouldn't even help his case much, not if Mike does die. The fuckin cops got him already. This mother fucker.

I picked up the phone and dialed Tommy.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah come meet me for breakfast, my house. Right now."

"Ok."

The line goes dead. A few minutes later Tommy is sitting across from me at the kitchen table. No one's home accept Chelsea and she's still asleep. I bring Tommy up to speed.

"So what do you want to do?"

"Get him. Get in touch with him and get him away from here. If he falls we go with him. With the other guy not around it means no one can tie us to anything. I want him found right now you understand?"

"Yeah," Tommy responded. I took a sip of my coffee.

"Also, send someone by the police station. We need to get our new friend out."

"The kid?"

"Yeah. And tell him to come see me right away."

"They got him already?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah, he's quick."

"Alright." With that Tommy stood up and walked out of the house.

Moments later my phone began to ring. I let it go for a few rings then answered.

"Yeah?"

"Hey Jimmy. It's Dexter."

"Dex, what's up?

"You remember when you said if I was ever in trouble to call you?"

"Yeah"

"Well, I had some trouble. I was wondering if you could help."

"Oh yeah? I might just be able to."

Chapter 23  
Brian

My phone started buzzing on the end table. It was Tommy. I answered it, but before I could even say hello, his voice exploded over the receiver.

"Where the fuck are you!" Tommy demanded.

"The motel on Route 21."

"What room?"

"114."

"Take the batteries out of your phone and don't leave until I get there."

"What's going?" I asked, but the line was already dead.

Fifteen minutes later someone was knocking at the door. Tommy must have literally been in the car looking for me when he called. I checked the window, it was him. I opened the door and he pushed it further open, then burrowed his large body in.

"Pack your shit, we gotta go," Tommy instructed.

"What's going on?"

"What's going on? You fucked up is what's going on!" Tommy narrowed his eyes and walked closer to me. "You attacked a police informant and left DNA on him."

"What DNA?"

"Were you wearing gloves dip shit?" He motioned down to my bloodied knuckles. "That DNA!"

"So what's the big deal? We're friends and we got into a fight. That's it," I reasoned.

"If you really thought that was it, I'd be meeting you at your house right now. Now grab your shit, we gotta go."

"Where?"

"Upstate New York, Jimmy's got a cottage up there."

"Why there?"

"Because they're gonna look for you here, and they won't be there so we have some time to work out a plan. Now stop with all the fuckin questions and let's go! We're leaving your car at the train station."

I decided to stop arguing with him. He seemed pretty pissed, besides these walls were starting to close in on me really fast. Sometime in the country would be a way better place to wait this out.

I grabbed my toiletries from the bathroom and threw them in the bag. Tommy was right. If I really did think it wasn't a big deal, I wouldn't be in this shit hole. But if I really thought it was a big deal, I would have left the country by now. I grabbed my black and gray Adidas overnight bag and nodded at Tommy.

We walked out and closed the door. He was parked right next to me and followed me close to the train station. It wasn't more than a mile away. But in this fuckin neighborhood? My car is definitely getting fucked up if it's here for more than a day or two. Goddamn it.

As soon as I got in the car with Tommy, the questions started to fly.

"Alright the motel, did you pay with cash?"

"Yeah."

"No credit card?"

"Dude it rents out by the hour. It's not really the kinda place a lot of people leave credit cards."

He nodded.

"Alright how much cash you got?"

"Like ten."

"Ten grand?"

I nodded.

"Oh yeah... and you didn't think it was a big deal at all huh?"

"Look man, quit busting my balls alright, I know I fucked up. How do we move on from here?"

"First things first, we get you up to this cottage. That way no one can find you, then we can figure it out. The plan is that they will find someone else's DNA on Mike. Now making that a reality is going to take some figuring, so in the meantime since you can't stay out of trouble at home. You'll stay out of trouble up there."

I nodded. It was true. This was my penance. Wait a second.

"He still saw me. If he's a witness then there going to believe him over me unless I have a serious alibi."

"We'll worry about that if he wakes up."

"If he wakes up?" I shouldn't have been surprised but his words still struck me deep.

He looked over at me to see if I was serious, and then looked back to the road.

"Yeah Hot Shot. You did some damage. Your boy's in a coma. Doctors don't know if he's going to wake up." That hit me like a ton of bricks. I almost didn't believe him. But I guess denial is the first stage of killing your best friend.

"He's in a coma?"

"Yeah so if he does wakes up, he might not even remember his own fucking name much less yours."

"But he could also wake up and be fine?"

"Yeah, that could happen to. That's why we're gonna wait and see."

"Well how fucking long are we gonna wait?"

"As long as it takes. You lost your bitching rights the second you went after this kid."

"Somebody had to do something."

"Kid, if Jimmy didn't love you so much I wouldda shot you in that shitty motel room. So start counting your blessing and cut the shit."

I rolled my eyes.

"So, where's this cottage?" I asked trying to change the subject.

"Up by Niagara Falls."

"Why so far?"

"Hey kid, you think this is how I wanted to spend my day?"

"It's just really out there."

"Yeah I know, but it's also right by the border in case things go sideways on us."

I nodded. Jesus Christ how did it come to this? How was this an actual factor now? If you would have told me a week ago that this was going to be the way things went down I would have never believed you. Not for a second.

A week ago I was enjoying life in my beautiful house, with my good friends and beautiful girlfriend. Now I'm in the car heading to practically fucking Canada with this fat piece of shit, while my best friend is nearly dead. I'm looking at years in prison, and I'm on the run with only 10 grand in my pocket. Mother fucker. I feel like this is all just a bad dream. Like there's no way everything could have spiraled out of control like this. Maybe if I just zone out for a bit, I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal.

I stared out the window watching the trees go by. We were on the interstate now, nothing but highway and trees. We were far enough away from home that no one would ever pull us over looking for me, or recognize me if they did. Now, it's smooth sailing. Now I get to sit out in a backwards ass country town and herd sheep or something until Jimmy can get this all figured out. Somewhere along the way I nodded out. Tommy wasn't much for company anyway.

*

I felt a nudge on my arm and snapped awake reaching for the cause of my disturbance.

"Calm down, were here numb nuts," Tommy said, "Get your shit. You're sleeping on the floor tonight. I get the bed. I'm old and fat."

I looked out the window. It was dark already. I wonder how long I'd been sleeping for. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and opened the car door. I reached in the back and grabbed my bag. I stood up and looked around. You gotta be kidding me. There was a rock covered driveway that led to 2 large boulders, then a small gravel pathway through the woods.

"So this is Jimmy's place?"

"Yeah the cottage is this way." Tommy motioned to the gravel pathway.

"What's with the rocks?"

"That way in case someone comes, you see them before they see you."

I followed him through the overgrown trail. Gravel and rocks kicked to the side as we hopped over fallen branches and made our way toward the cabin. After about fifty feet, we came to a clearing. He was right, I couldn't see this at all from the driveway. Tommy stops. "Welcome home," he says with a sadistic laugh.

"God I hope not for long. Is there power at least?"

"Yeah there's a generator over there. You just gotta start it like a lawn mower." He motioned to the left side of the little piece of shit cabin. I walked up and dropped my bag in the front of the house. This is one of those places that would be cool if it was totally renovated and brand new. But it's not, it's old and shitty. This is really going to suck. I walked over to the left side to take a look at this generator. I rounded the corner and there was no light. It gets dark out here like real fucking dark. Then there was flash of light.

Chapter 24  
Jimmy

"Here have a seat." I motioned to Tommy as he walked around the table.

"So how did everything go?"

"It went," Tommy responded.

"Good. It's not the way I would have wanted, but it's what had to be done."

"Coffee?" the waitress asked.

"Yes Doll thanks," I replied and she poured me a cup. Tommy just pushed his cup closer to her to let her know he wanted some too. She finished pouring and walked away from us.

"Did the kid ever wake up?"

"It doesn't matter now. We've never had any dealings with him. In fact, I wish him a speedy recovery." I chuckled.

"It's a fucked up world we live in," Tommy said.

"You got that right."

For a moment we both looked out and let that statement hang in the air. Then, Tommy broke that silence. "So what are your thoughts on this new kid?"

"Well he's no Brian, so you're gonna have to muscle for him if anything comes down." Tommy nodded. "But I doubt if it will. I think most of Brian's issues were self whaddaya call it, ya know, he started 'em." Tommy nodded. "But he's good, social, lots of friends, wears those tight pants all the kids wear now." I shook my head in disapproval. "But whatever, kids will be kids right?"

Tommy nodded.

"We're going to lose most of the high school," Tommy pointed out.

"That's alright. The cops are going to be looking around here for a minute anyway. It's better to have some distance." I took a sip of my coffee. "Besides, bunch of rich kids all in college on their parent's dime without a care in the world? What could be better for business?" Tommy nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

"When are you meeting with him?"

"He is on his way now." I looked up at the parking lot and saw a tall lanky kid with shaggy hair and tight pants walking into through the glass door. I raised my hand up and flagged him over to us.

"Hey kid. This is Tommy, Tommy, Dex."

Tommy nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"Nice to meet you," a nervous voice said.

"Tommy, you wanna give us a minute to get to know each other?"

"Sure boss."

Tommy stood up, looked Dex over then walked away.

"I really want to thank you Jimmy. I really appreciate you helping me out with the drug shit, man."

"No problem kid. Remember what I said. When you're with me, you're above the law."

Hey readers. Thank you for reading Suburban Enterprise. Please leave me a review.

or email me at jplondonauthor@gmail.com

I really appreciate any feedback or reviews you leave, good, bad, or indifferent, they all help.

Below is the first chapter of my next book "Stolen." I hope you like it.

Stolen
Prologue

Fear is the trouble only of the gazelle, I think to myself as the door of Rick's Liquors swings open. This store has a familiar setup. The cash register sits high up on its altar, directly in front of the door facing the aisles of booze. It's set up this way so the clerk can peer down from his post and see if anyone's going to steal from him.

I don't necessarily scream thief. But then again, a wolf in sheep's clothing still bares teeth.

It's a small store. The aisles are only twenty feet long or so, each adorned with two racks that create a small space between the four aisles. I walk along the front to the far aisle and then take it all the way back to the refrigerated walls. I want to see who's in the store. Aside from a clerk who won't take his eyes off me, there's only one other occupant.

She's a cute blonde with curly hair that drapes down past her shoulders. A large hat is perched on top of her head and sunglasses hang from her low-cut shirt. She has light, narrow features.

The girl glances up at me as I walk past her. Her blue eyes attempt to meet my gaze, but the only thing they're able to catch is their own reflection. She quickly darts her eyes away from me, avoiding my gaze. I can tell she is trying not to look at me.

I walk along the far corner and pass by the glass doors. Beer, orange juice, sodas. Ah, here we are—the Holy Grail. Energy drinks.

I open the glass door and grab the red can—the can of energy.

I open the can with a "Sppshhh." I take a long sip as I walk through the wine section. Another slow sip of the energy takes me past the cardboard Absolut Vodka display. The blonde beauty is there again, on my left side. I can see her, but she can't see me. My eyes are covered by dark reflective aviator sunglasses.

I can see the clerk staring at me. He must really think I'm going to steal something. I should be offended by his profiling views, but then again, he has no idea how right he is. Approaching the counter, I set the red metal can down.

The clerk looks to be a tall man, but he's stationed high on his pedestal so who really knows? His skin is tanned and he has a dark beard, which extends down from a full head of brown hair. He wears a blue and white checkered button down short-sleeve shirt.

"That all?" the clerk asks with an air of suspicion. For a moment, I wonder if he's actually being weird or if it's just my guilty conscience.

His eyes aren't breaking away from mine. Something is wrong. He's staring way too hard. Seconds tick and fall off the clock with the subtlety of a hand grenade.

"Yes," I reply with a nod. Then I reach down as though I'm going for my wallet, but instead, my grip fastens against the chrome handle of Strength.

I pull the gun from my belt and raise it, aiming it at the clerk's face. He doesn't ever appear to break eye contact with me. The engraved letters on the chrome barrel stare back at me.

"On second thought, I would like something else. Give me the cash."

He freezes, but he doesn't look scared. In this kind of situation, your best defense is a good offense. If he's shitting his pants, you're pretty much good to go. Usually, they step back and throw their hands up, begging for mercy, but... he's not.

In fact, he hasn't moved an inch since I got to the counter. He's just staring at me dead-eyed. My first thought is of a deer in headlights, but that's wrong. He's a jaguar on the hunt.

"Did I fucking stutter?!" I shout. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hear a loud slam. The door to the back office closes and, for a split second, I glance at it. That split second is too long. The dastardly clerk won't show me his hands because he has a hammer in one of them.

He takes a wild swing and lands the striking side of the hammer perfectly on my fingers. In a gut reaction, I let go and drop the gun on the counter. My hand retracts back close to my chest as the clerk reaches out to grab the weapon.

He has it, but his grip isn't secure. He's too far away for me to wrestle him for it. I race for the front door, but realize it's too far.

I hear the first shot as it echoes through the store. The sound reverberates back and forth in my head. It's much louder than I imagined it would be. I can feel the impact on my arm, and the force almost knocks me down. And at that point, everything goes numb; all senses, all thought. We have now entered survival mode.

Please keep your seatbelts on and your tray tables in the upright and lock position. We are going to be experiencing some turbulence.

I dive behind the aisle. I can see my blood splattered on the black and white checkered floor tiles. I reach my hand over to my right shoulder, touching the wound. My senses return, especially pain. I can feel the bullet hole in my sweater and the hole in my arm.

I look up. I can see the door, but can I make it?

Bang! Bang! The gun screams again as I watch the bags of potato chips around me explode and glass liquor bottles break. The dull sound of my ear drums dying overtakes everything.

The ringing in my ears is deafening, but not loud enough to block out the sound of my heart beating. I can hear it pounding and pulsing through my entire body. With each beat of my heart, my arm hurts more. This is not good.

I start to move, trying to stay low. The fiend has blocked my escape through the front door. Scaling the black and white tiled floors, I move desperately, aiming for the back of the store. Maybe that door I heard close isn't locked. Maybe it leads to an exit.

My feet begin to move quickly.

Bang! Bang! I hear again. Two more shots fired, this time further away. I can hear the bullets getting expelled from the gun and the empty shells being tossed to the floor.

"Think you can rob me?!" he calls out.

I make it to the back door and grip the handle.

Shit, it's locked. My thoughts overwhelm me.

I can hear his footsteps getting closer as the clerk moves with haste and purpose. He's about to round the corner and achieve a direct line of sight.

I move as quickly as I can. I hide behind the wall of the aisle. With my back to him, the only thing between us now is a thin aluminum wall and bottles of pinot noir.

Another shot is fired from the gun. This one almost hits my foot. I continue to shuffle. I'm now on the back wall of the store, pinned in the corner, away from the back door or any windows. Giving up my escape, I sink into the corner.

I'm cornered off, out of places to go. The only hope I have is that this crazy son of a bitch doesn't shoot me.

His footsteps come closer. I raise my hands in the air, the universal sign for, "Don't shoot."

The clerk steps out from behind the coverage of the aisle, his weapon drawn. He looks down at me. My eyes are now exposed, no longer hidden behind my dark reflective lenses. My heart is raising and my breath is struggling to keep up with it. I can see in his eyes that he wants to kill me. This is personal for him.

"No more room to run, no place to hide," he taunts me. "What's going to protect you now?" His words hang in the air.

My eyes fix on him as he raises the gun. The glimmering chrome is now focused. The business end of this beautifully detailed death machine is now aimed at my face.

I can't move. I'm frozen.

Then a metal on metal clicking sound breaks the silence. My view expands from the chrome barrel of doom pointing down at me to the bearded man standing behind it, outward to the chrome barrel behind his head and a flash of blonde hair. Then a soft, demanding voice spoke.

"A Queen always protects her King."

