Wade took a long draw on his joint as he peered out his window. He wasn't sure if the massive paranoia and anxiety he was feeling was homegrown, from the weed, or from the unfortunate situation that loomed in front of him. He had spent that past few hours looking up Outlaw motorcycle gangs, '1 percent' clubs that Nails was a member of. It had not been encouraging. These were not the kind of people he ever wanted to be in business with. People with guns, knifes, hammers and with plenty of eager members ready to use them. Even if everything ran smoothly with the operation and they met their quota with the club, these were inherently violent people. Sure, it was good in some ways to have their backing, but he had never entered business with the intention of ever being in need of that kind of muscle.
Wade took another hit of the joint and walked over to his computer, he had been looking up Nail's particular motorcycle club, the Satan's Breed. It had taken some searching but eventually he found Nails himself and his real name Anthony DeCarlo. He had done time for dealing back in the 80's but was released after ten years, refused to testify against other members of the club. He was a suspect in at least 10 homicides but the police couldn't find anyone willing to testify against him. Had done two tours in Vietnam with the marines, and joined the breed after coming home. The documentary also mentioned that a few years after Nails was released, several members the club who had testified against the club and were living in witness protection were found killed. The FBI questioned nails about the murders but each time he had an alibi and they had to evidence to link him to the scene. The last one was killed in 2005. The documentary was a few years old but it listed Nail's as Vice President of the Satan's breed. They had chapters across the Northeast and the Midwest with roughly 500 members strong. These were not people you walk away from, though Wade knew.
Wade closed the browser and put the joint out in his ashtray. So this was a guy who could kill you and easily get away with it, he knew Nails had killed those people, at least the documentary seemed to think so. Also he had seen firsthand what he was capable of. But now he also knew that an army of similarly minded individuals behind him. Still it could be a chance to make a whole lot more money, Wade knew, but of course a bigger operation, more money, more risk. One problem, as he saw it, was that it was highly unlikely that the only thing they would have him slinging would be Ganja. From what he he learned from his research the Breed was heavily into methamphetamine, using and dealing. It didn't seem like Nails was on it when they had met but on the other hand he hadn't met many meth heads. They would need some kind of space, what he had in his house was not enough for what they had in mind. A warehouse maybe, or maybe a whole house to just fill with plants. That had been his dream since he was 17 and had first started growing bud. He had saved a few seeds from a good strain that he had gotten and found a good spot in the woods never a river. He had watched the spot all summer, careful not to go back too much, enough to check on the progress to make sure no animals were eating them. When he finally harvested them at the end of September
he found himself bursting with joy, and it was also when he made his first mistake. He told a few of his friends about the harvest he had brought in, before he had a chance to dry and cure it, and a couple days later a few of those same 'friends', came to his house when he was gone and stole them from the garage he was hanging them in. It had taught him a valuable lesson, keep your fucking mouth shut. He never figured out which was one his friends took his plants, but he never made the same mistake.
Wade also learned another lesson, have fewer friends. With the operation he had going the less people you interact with the better and he had learned to enjoy the solitude for the most part. Most people were not really worth knowing, he had come to determine. Nails had mentioned that he would 'Cut us in,' what would be our cut? he wondered? 20, 50? it was hard to imagine that the club would cut them in for anything more then 50 and that seemed generous. On the other hand he hadn't known any Outlaw Motorcycle club members firsthand, and Nail's seemed different somewhat. He was more polished then one would think, almost seemed reasonable. But it was all a facade. This guy has killed people. It would be foolish to think of him as any less dangerous then his record. His phone rang, it was Alex, 'Hey.' Wade said. 'What's going on, hey what are you doing?' 'Just sitting here buzzed why?' 'We want to show you this place let me text you the address.' 'Ok.' Wade replied. Alright, time to do some stuff.
The moon was shining bright as he turned onto the dark dirt road, the only road left on which to go. He had followed his GPS down the highway for about 20 minutes off another exit through a small town and eventually down the dirt road, they could easily kill and bury us here, Wade thought as he came to a clearing at the end of the road where a small warehouse stood. Has potential, Wade thought as he got out of his car, 'Hey, what's up man?' Alex said as he walked toward the building in the moonlight. 'Not much, just hanging out watching youtube documentaries.' 'What about?' Alex asked as they walked into the warehouse. 'Ill tell you later.' Wade replied as he stepped into the darkness. The light came on as they entered. It was about ten feet high and 30 feet long. Easily enough to accommodate several trays. 'What do you think gardener? Looking good?' Nails stood in the middle of the room. He was wearing his colors and from a quick glance wade could make out that he was now club President. Moving up in the world, Anthony, Wade thought. Wait don't call him that. 'Looks like something we can work with.' Wade replied. 'Trust me It'll be great you'll be out here, doing your'e thing, you'll have everything you need. And you can know that the club has your back.' 'Out here? For how long?' 'My investors are not interested in supplying the funding for the operation if it is not at least worth their while. The main thing that club doesn't want or need is heat from the cops. So I need to minimize violence. I fucked those kids up mainly to send a message but for the most part the club will not interfere with you as long as you fulfill your quota.' 'How much?' Wade asked. '20 pounds a month.' 'And what is our cut?' A faint glimmer of a grin crossed Nails face and he replied, '60-40 our favor. I think that's decent.' Wade said nothing as he looked over the vast empty warehouse, his dream come true.
'We'll bring in the equipment and lights tomorrow plus the clones, we'll give you enough to get started, plus were going to be sending you a couple people to help you get up and running. You can come and go as you please as long as you meet your quota-ten pounds a month.'
Friday, April 27, 2018
Thursday, December 8, 2016
These violent delights have violent ends.
Nails sat in his car on the darker side of the street, watching the house. It looked pretty straightforward from what he had gathered. Neither of the guys who stole the grass were connected or involved with gangs or anything. He wouldn't be stepping on anyone's toes out there for roughing them up. And it had been become obvious to him, over the course of following them was that these were not people to scared of. They were amateurs in every sense of the word. The one who did the deed, Jeff, it was his house, he got SSI from the state for mental problems, enough to pay the rent and some other things, but not much more. So Jeff liked to stick his fingers into various illegal operations to earn extra cash, mainly break ins, petty theft. He was also heavily into Oxycontin, which fueled most of it. It was his friend Roy however, who Nails believed put him up to this one. Roy had been copping weed off of Alex for a while now, and from what he could tell, at the same time was casing up Alex's operation. Who supplied him, was he connected to anyone, what was the extent of his organization. It was impressive, considering Alex was hardly a criminal mastermind, in fact the only blemish on his record was a DUI a few years back. He was a cook at a local restaurant. The 'brains' of the operation if there was one.
He felt bad for the two, truth be told. They had just stepped one a massive hornets nest and didn't even know it. Didn't realize that the person they burned really did have connections. Like starting fights in random bars and having the bad luck to pick who was a former marine, and Muay Thai champion. Nails had learned that the hard way, when he was younger, since then he picked his battles carefully. He looked at the time on his cars dashboard, 10:05, from what the could tell Alex always got off work around 10 because he usually came around to Jeff's at 10:30 or somewhere around there. Better wait until they're both there to do it, in case they hid it someplace else. It had occurred to him that it was quite likely that the grass was gone, that they had sold it, or traded it for pills or something better, it was only two ounces after all, in that case he planned to take it all. Everything they had. And if they didn't have anything for him he would make them wish they did. He saw lights from a car coming from down the street, showtime, he thought.
Nails got out of the car feeling a quick flutter nerves as he walked toward the house. Strange, perhaps left over from Vietnam, going out into the bush not knowing what was ahead. He had cleaned out his closet and found the last suit he owned in the back of it, for a court date 15 years ago. Still fit. He felt good about that. He knew the angle he was going to use, knew how he was going to use it. The .38 felt heavy in his waistband, he knocked three times. Nothing. The sound of low voices conversing, light music. He knocked again. He heard the sound of a lock turn and the door open, first mistake asshole, he thought. A short man with a bald head and a goatee answered, 'Who the fuck are you?' he asked as opened the door. This is going to be easy, Nails thought. 'I want to know if you've heard the good news, Jesus Christ our lord and savoir is returning soon and.. 'Get lost asshole.' He began to shut the door in his face. So easy, he thought. This must be Roy. Before the door could close Nails punched him in the stomach and followed up with a right hook to the face. 'You took something that didn't belong to you, where the fuck is it?' He asked as Roy lay on the ground bleeding. 'I don't know...' Roy replied reaching into his pocket. He kicked him in the face. His pistol game sliding out of his waistband. 'Yeah, that's not going to work for you my friend. Why don't you just tell me what I need to know.' Roy spat up blood, 'Ok.'
The fucking lottery should be outlawed, Wade thought as he waited in line. There were 3 people ahead of him and the first person seemed to be doing all they could to ensure that the people behind her got helped as slowly and inefficiently ass possible, getting 5 different scratch tickets at a time, and all kind of 'quick picks. 'And get me two 5 dollar scratch tickets.' 'Which ones?' the clerk asked. 'Just pick me some winners.' The woman asked flashing a smile. You're not going to fucking win you stupid bitch, people have precious liquor to buy.' He assessed the situation. As long as the other two people in line didn't also have some kind of lottery transaction or multiple ones, he should be out of the place pretty soon. He needed to be out soon, it had been a shit day from start to finish. Up on a drafty roof all day putting up shingles, his only help some idiot kid who seemed to be perpetually high, taking forever to get things, and disappearing for long stretches of time. After a while Wade had simply given up and done everything himself, hauling the shingles up the roof and putting them up. What had added to his tension was the fact that he hadn't smoked in four days. He had a few plants growing under his lights, but those still had months to flower, be harvested, and cured. It was to the point that he was probably going to have to go to someone to get something which was exactly what he was trying to avoid by getting into growing and selling in the first place.
'Hi'. Wade felt startled as the clerk uttered the words. He thought first 3 people were still there but they had gone and he was up to bat. Wade put the six of tall boys on the counter, 'Two nips of fireball.' He said finally. The clerk grabbed them and he handed him the 10. Just make this day be over, Wade thought, as the clerk counted the change. 'Thank you.' Wade said as he left. Thank god, he thought, finally get to just go home and relax, as long as that asshole doesn't'....his phone buzzed, he looked down at his messages. 'That asshole' had certainly texted him. 'Meet me at the Hotel now.' It said. Fuck it. I'll go. But I'm certainly not postponing my weekend because of it, Wade thought as he opened a nip. He downed it in one gulp. Now lets see what all this fuss is about, he thought.
Nails took a long swig of his beer as he sat in his room, waiting. Waiting for two small time weed dealers to arrive. When he had told some people in his crew that he was doing some kind of security for two relatively low level pot dealers they had thought he was crazy. Shit, if someone had told them thirty years ago, when he had been making hundreds of thousands selling coke, that this would be the case he would have called them crazy, but now it made sense. Those associates of his who did not understand were of a younger generation, they didn't see the big picture. Sure selling, meth and coke, and heroin, you could make alot of money but it also mean a whole lot more jail time. A far greater likelihood that your operation could have an undercover agent being put into the mix, as Nails had learned firsthand when Mike had flipped. Mike had been second in command to the chapter president, and had run meth for a number of years. Mike's testimony had devastated the club, almost destroyed it. In the end, quite a few more brothers flipped and testified against the club, Nails was one of few who refused. He had done ten years in Federal prison for keeping his mouth shut. He never associated or did deals with too many people so they didn't have a much information on him. I'm never going back, he thought, to himself. not ever.
I'll go meet them. Nails got up an walked outside they had just pulled up. 'Well,' He said. 'I found the people who ripped you off. They're here.' 'Where are they?' Wade asked. 'Let me show you.' He gestured toward his trunk and opened it. They lay there beaten and battered, 'Should I end it, or give them a pass?' he asked. 'Give them a pass. Just tell them not to fuck with us.' Nails shut the trunk. He gestured toward the hotel, 'Come on, I have a business proposition.' They followed. He shut the trunk. 'What about them?' Wade asked as he walked toward the door. 'He'll be fine.' Nails replied. He led the way into the apartment, really more of a stashhouse, meeting place, than anything else. A place he knew the cops didn't know about, that no one in his crew knew about, a spot he kept all for himself. That was how it was these days, one had to insulate oneself from anything that might incriminate themselves, and being known as the boss or anything illegal as simply not desirable. In the late 90's he had found out that the vice president of his chapter had been an FBI agent all along. They had picked up everyone, from the top down. He had lived on the lam for a while, up in Canada, but eventually they caught up with him. He kept his mouth shut and done 15 years. Since then he made sure to thoroughly investigate everyone he did business with.
The apartment was surprisingly clean, Wade thought, as he entered. There were a couple of beer bottles on the nightstand but apart from that, the bed was made and there was no debris on the floor. The hallway led to a small kitchenette and there was a small bathroom on the left. A table and two chair stood in front of a large window, which was currently shuttered. 'Have a seat.' Nails gestured toward them. Wade sat down Alex followed. 'So as you can see, I have held up my end of the bargain.' Nails began. 'So do you have something for me?' 'Yeah.' Wade pulled out a large paper and bag and put it on the table. He reached into that and pulled out a large plastic bag of weed from it. He handed it to Nails. 'One quarter pound, good stuff.' He said. Nails took the bag, opened it, smelled inside. 'Looks nice.' He said. Wade started to rise, 'Wait hold on a second man. There is something else, I have a business proposition for you.' Wade paused, 'Ok.' Fuck, he thought. 'I have people, investors, with alot of money and knowledge of good dope. Unfortunately these people also have a lot of history with the law and have other reasons to not want exposure. You you're perfect, you don't have a history.' 'What are you proposing?' 'Me and my partners stake you in a dispensary operation, we provide lights, clones, everything. And you and Alex can run it, and you'll get a piece of it also.' 'The most I've ever done is a couple pounds- He started, 'Don't worry I have plenty of guys that can help. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut.'
Wade was silent for a second. 'Man are you kidding we should totally-' Alex started to say. 'I don't know if I want to commit to something like that, I'll have to think about it.' Wade got up to leave. 'Sure, that fine, Nails replied. 'Think, mull, contemplate, just get back to me on it. Don't forget, you have our protection now, my organizations. But without my organization whats to stop some other group of assholes from ripping you off again?' Wade walked to the door. 'Just something to think about.' Nails said as they walked out.
He felt bad for the two, truth be told. They had just stepped one a massive hornets nest and didn't even know it. Didn't realize that the person they burned really did have connections. Like starting fights in random bars and having the bad luck to pick who was a former marine, and Muay Thai champion. Nails had learned that the hard way, when he was younger, since then he picked his battles carefully. He looked at the time on his cars dashboard, 10:05, from what the could tell Alex always got off work around 10 because he usually came around to Jeff's at 10:30 or somewhere around there. Better wait until they're both there to do it, in case they hid it someplace else. It had occurred to him that it was quite likely that the grass was gone, that they had sold it, or traded it for pills or something better, it was only two ounces after all, in that case he planned to take it all. Everything they had. And if they didn't have anything for him he would make them wish they did. He saw lights from a car coming from down the street, showtime, he thought.
Nails got out of the car feeling a quick flutter nerves as he walked toward the house. Strange, perhaps left over from Vietnam, going out into the bush not knowing what was ahead. He had cleaned out his closet and found the last suit he owned in the back of it, for a court date 15 years ago. Still fit. He felt good about that. He knew the angle he was going to use, knew how he was going to use it. The .38 felt heavy in his waistband, he knocked three times. Nothing. The sound of low voices conversing, light music. He knocked again. He heard the sound of a lock turn and the door open, first mistake asshole, he thought. A short man with a bald head and a goatee answered, 'Who the fuck are you?' he asked as opened the door. This is going to be easy, Nails thought. 'I want to know if you've heard the good news, Jesus Christ our lord and savoir is returning soon and.. 'Get lost asshole.' He began to shut the door in his face. So easy, he thought. This must be Roy. Before the door could close Nails punched him in the stomach and followed up with a right hook to the face. 'You took something that didn't belong to you, where the fuck is it?' He asked as Roy lay on the ground bleeding. 'I don't know...' Roy replied reaching into his pocket. He kicked him in the face. His pistol game sliding out of his waistband. 'Yeah, that's not going to work for you my friend. Why don't you just tell me what I need to know.' Roy spat up blood, 'Ok.'
The fucking lottery should be outlawed, Wade thought as he waited in line. There were 3 people ahead of him and the first person seemed to be doing all they could to ensure that the people behind her got helped as slowly and inefficiently ass possible, getting 5 different scratch tickets at a time, and all kind of 'quick picks. 'And get me two 5 dollar scratch tickets.' 'Which ones?' the clerk asked. 'Just pick me some winners.' The woman asked flashing a smile. You're not going to fucking win you stupid bitch, people have precious liquor to buy.' He assessed the situation. As long as the other two people in line didn't also have some kind of lottery transaction or multiple ones, he should be out of the place pretty soon. He needed to be out soon, it had been a shit day from start to finish. Up on a drafty roof all day putting up shingles, his only help some idiot kid who seemed to be perpetually high, taking forever to get things, and disappearing for long stretches of time. After a while Wade had simply given up and done everything himself, hauling the shingles up the roof and putting them up. What had added to his tension was the fact that he hadn't smoked in four days. He had a few plants growing under his lights, but those still had months to flower, be harvested, and cured. It was to the point that he was probably going to have to go to someone to get something which was exactly what he was trying to avoid by getting into growing and selling in the first place.
'Hi'. Wade felt startled as the clerk uttered the words. He thought first 3 people were still there but they had gone and he was up to bat. Wade put the six of tall boys on the counter, 'Two nips of fireball.' He said finally. The clerk grabbed them and he handed him the 10. Just make this day be over, Wade thought, as the clerk counted the change. 'Thank you.' Wade said as he left. Thank god, he thought, finally get to just go home and relax, as long as that asshole doesn't'....his phone buzzed, he looked down at his messages. 'That asshole' had certainly texted him. 'Meet me at the Hotel now.' It said. Fuck it. I'll go. But I'm certainly not postponing my weekend because of it, Wade thought as he opened a nip. He downed it in one gulp. Now lets see what all this fuss is about, he thought.
Nails took a long swig of his beer as he sat in his room, waiting. Waiting for two small time weed dealers to arrive. When he had told some people in his crew that he was doing some kind of security for two relatively low level pot dealers they had thought he was crazy. Shit, if someone had told them thirty years ago, when he had been making hundreds of thousands selling coke, that this would be the case he would have called them crazy, but now it made sense. Those associates of his who did not understand were of a younger generation, they didn't see the big picture. Sure selling, meth and coke, and heroin, you could make alot of money but it also mean a whole lot more jail time. A far greater likelihood that your operation could have an undercover agent being put into the mix, as Nails had learned firsthand when Mike had flipped. Mike had been second in command to the chapter president, and had run meth for a number of years. Mike's testimony had devastated the club, almost destroyed it. In the end, quite a few more brothers flipped and testified against the club, Nails was one of few who refused. He had done ten years in Federal prison for keeping his mouth shut. He never associated or did deals with too many people so they didn't have a much information on him. I'm never going back, he thought, to himself. not ever.
I'll go meet them. Nails got up an walked outside they had just pulled up. 'Well,' He said. 'I found the people who ripped you off. They're here.' 'Where are they?' Wade asked. 'Let me show you.' He gestured toward his trunk and opened it. They lay there beaten and battered, 'Should I end it, or give them a pass?' he asked. 'Give them a pass. Just tell them not to fuck with us.' Nails shut the trunk. He gestured toward the hotel, 'Come on, I have a business proposition.' They followed. He shut the trunk. 'What about them?' Wade asked as he walked toward the door. 'He'll be fine.' Nails replied. He led the way into the apartment, really more of a stashhouse, meeting place, than anything else. A place he knew the cops didn't know about, that no one in his crew knew about, a spot he kept all for himself. That was how it was these days, one had to insulate oneself from anything that might incriminate themselves, and being known as the boss or anything illegal as simply not desirable. In the late 90's he had found out that the vice president of his chapter had been an FBI agent all along. They had picked up everyone, from the top down. He had lived on the lam for a while, up in Canada, but eventually they caught up with him. He kept his mouth shut and done 15 years. Since then he made sure to thoroughly investigate everyone he did business with.
The apartment was surprisingly clean, Wade thought, as he entered. There were a couple of beer bottles on the nightstand but apart from that, the bed was made and there was no debris on the floor. The hallway led to a small kitchenette and there was a small bathroom on the left. A table and two chair stood in front of a large window, which was currently shuttered. 'Have a seat.' Nails gestured toward them. Wade sat down Alex followed. 'So as you can see, I have held up my end of the bargain.' Nails began. 'So do you have something for me?' 'Yeah.' Wade pulled out a large paper and bag and put it on the table. He reached into that and pulled out a large plastic bag of weed from it. He handed it to Nails. 'One quarter pound, good stuff.' He said. Nails took the bag, opened it, smelled inside. 'Looks nice.' He said. Wade started to rise, 'Wait hold on a second man. There is something else, I have a business proposition for you.' Wade paused, 'Ok.' Fuck, he thought. 'I have people, investors, with alot of money and knowledge of good dope. Unfortunately these people also have a lot of history with the law and have other reasons to not want exposure. You you're perfect, you don't have a history.' 'What are you proposing?' 'Me and my partners stake you in a dispensary operation, we provide lights, clones, everything. And you and Alex can run it, and you'll get a piece of it also.' 'The most I've ever done is a couple pounds- He started, 'Don't worry I have plenty of guys that can help. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut.'
Wade was silent for a second. 'Man are you kidding we should totally-' Alex started to say. 'I don't know if I want to commit to something like that, I'll have to think about it.' Wade got up to leave. 'Sure, that fine, Nails replied. 'Think, mull, contemplate, just get back to me on it. Don't forget, you have our protection now, my organizations. But without my organization whats to stop some other group of assholes from ripping you off again?' Wade walked to the door. 'Just something to think about.' Nails said as they walked out.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Babylon is falling, it was foolish to build it on the sand.
The wind howled against the car, screaming, screeching. It had wrecked havoc on the parking lot throwing papers and objects all around and it showed no signs of slowing down. It was the only sound in the car they heard as the radio in Wades car had died long ago. The heater had gone long before that so they sat, silent, in a cold car as the wind roared outside. 'Where the fuck is this guy?' Wade asked. 'You said he would meet us here at 9:00, and it's almost ten. I'm not waiting here all fucking night.' 'It's ok, he'll be here. You know he has a different conception of time than most people.'Alex replied. What the fuck does that mean? Wade thought as he sat in the cold car. It was around 20 degrees outside, with the windchill making it feel into the negative numbers. I don't have all fucking night, Wade thought. Certainly not for bullshit like this. 'Well can you call him at least, figure out whats going on?' 'Nah, I would, but thing is the guy doesn't have a phone. He's totally off the grid like that.' 'So how do you get in touch with him?' 'I just call this guy, who knows him.' Yeah, because that makes perfect sense. Wade thought.
Apparently, this 'Nails', could be trusted because he had been a friend of Alex's father. Alex's father had died when Alex was in high school. They had known each other for most of their lives, and Wade had mainly remembered Alex's father, Ray, for being drunk all the time, and possibly abusive. Alex hadn't had a good word to say about the time before his untimely demise, but after he couldn't stop praising him. How he had taught him to be tough, and had gotten him through so many hard times. So he had asked another relative of his to arrange the meeting. It wasn't entirely Alex's fault that he was so irritated now, Wade knew. He had felt that way all day, from the moment he woken up to go to work, to the moment he left the jobsite. Normally he had a couple bowls in the morning to get going, but they had cleaned him out. He had a small amount of his head stash left, but after that it was only resin. So he had gone without, and the day hadn't gone well. He had snapped at everyone on his crew, for minor things. And fired a new guy from being 10 minutes late. it had happened with him a couple times before, but in retrospect he might have overreacted.
The truth was, even though they had been cleaned out Wade still had a considerable amount saved. He had been saving for 15 years, since he had started dealing. Just a little bit each week, but over time it had added up. He knew if Alex somehow found out about it, he would try to talk him into 'Investing in something, grow lights, or some large amount of pot, and he would double his money. In days. But some complication would arise, something weird would happen and he wouldn't get all he put in back. Alex was great a moving bud but sometimes too trusting, so eager for more customers that he forgot discretion. I'm not sitting here much longer, he thought. Then he remembered, the joint he had in his pocket. He had rolled it in the morning, from what he had left and put it in a cigarette case in the recesses of his pocket. 'Fuck it.' He thought to himself and pulled out the case he had stored it in, he pulled out he joint and lit it up. The first few hits allowing him to feel ok for the first time all day. The tension cut in half in a few moments, and more a little bit.
Wade passed the joint to Alex, who seemed just as pleased. 'Don't worry, dudes gonna be here soon..' Alex trailed off. The wind started to pick up again as if on cue, but at least the tension had eased. 'Any chance yo guys got a hit left for an old man?' A voice said from the darkness. Wade turned around, and there he stood a wizened figure with a short gray beard and a leather jacket. 'Who the hell are you?' Alex asked. 'I'm your uncle Nails you bastard!' The old man shot forward and shook Alex's hand enthusiastically. 'Oh shit, we were wondering where you were.' Wade handed the joint over to Nails, who quickly took a couple of large pulls. 'What, you thought I wasn't going to show?' He asked Alex icily. 'No.' Alex replied. 'It's just we were waiting a little bit longer than you said so.. his voice trailed off. 'So you don't think I'm a man of my word? you think I just blow people off and not tell them why?' 'No it's just we thought you know we were wondering where you were.' Nails passed the joint back to Wade and stared at them in silence. 'Don't worry about it, I'm just fucking with you.' He said finally. 'Come on, step into my office I heard we have some business to discuss.'
They got out and Nails led them to his door, which was on the ground level. As they came in the first thing that struck wade was how surprisingly clean everything was. There were a few beer bottles on the nightstand and one of the pillows on the bed was slightly askew but otherwise everything was neat, well organized. There was a large T.V. in the middle of the room, as well as a small table next to the bed. Nails walked into the kitchen to the fridge, 'Either of you guys want a beer?' 'Sure.' He replied. Nails came out of the kitchen and handed him the cold bottle. Extra cold, he noticed. 'So Alex, how's your mother these days?' 'Pretty good.' Alex replied. They hadn't spoken in months in reality. 'So from what I understand you guys have been having some local trouble? Got ripped off by some people, and obviously being in the business you are in can't go to the police?' They both nodded. 'Obviously I can offer my services, however my services are not free, now out of respect for Alex's father I can offer something of a discount for you. 600 up front plus a quarter pound of your finest weed when it comes out.'
Wade said nothing but the look on his face betrayed his feelings. 'Look, it's no skin off my back if you do this deal or not, if anything if you don't its less work for me. Nails walked to kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, 'It's just, that if certain, people on the street know that that can just roll up to you and take what theyy want without any repercussion, that could set a dangerous precedent.' 'No, its fine, I'd just want to be sure, you wouldn't stiff us.' Alex gave him a look of horror. 'Certainly not. I may live outside the law but I still consider myself an honorable man. A man of my word.' Wade took a long swig of his beer, this isn't going to end well, he thought. 'As soon as I get the cash my associates and I will get started.' 'I can meet you tomorrow morning.' 'Good.' This isn't going to end well, Wade thought.
Apparently, this 'Nails', could be trusted because he had been a friend of Alex's father. Alex's father had died when Alex was in high school. They had known each other for most of their lives, and Wade had mainly remembered Alex's father, Ray, for being drunk all the time, and possibly abusive. Alex hadn't had a good word to say about the time before his untimely demise, but after he couldn't stop praising him. How he had taught him to be tough, and had gotten him through so many hard times. So he had asked another relative of his to arrange the meeting. It wasn't entirely Alex's fault that he was so irritated now, Wade knew. He had felt that way all day, from the moment he woken up to go to work, to the moment he left the jobsite. Normally he had a couple bowls in the morning to get going, but they had cleaned him out. He had a small amount of his head stash left, but after that it was only resin. So he had gone without, and the day hadn't gone well. He had snapped at everyone on his crew, for minor things. And fired a new guy from being 10 minutes late. it had happened with him a couple times before, but in retrospect he might have overreacted.
The truth was, even though they had been cleaned out Wade still had a considerable amount saved. He had been saving for 15 years, since he had started dealing. Just a little bit each week, but over time it had added up. He knew if Alex somehow found out about it, he would try to talk him into 'Investing in something, grow lights, or some large amount of pot, and he would double his money. In days. But some complication would arise, something weird would happen and he wouldn't get all he put in back. Alex was great a moving bud but sometimes too trusting, so eager for more customers that he forgot discretion. I'm not sitting here much longer, he thought. Then he remembered, the joint he had in his pocket. He had rolled it in the morning, from what he had left and put it in a cigarette case in the recesses of his pocket. 'Fuck it.' He thought to himself and pulled out the case he had stored it in, he pulled out he joint and lit it up. The first few hits allowing him to feel ok for the first time all day. The tension cut in half in a few moments, and more a little bit.
Wade passed the joint to Alex, who seemed just as pleased. 'Don't worry, dudes gonna be here soon..' Alex trailed off. The wind started to pick up again as if on cue, but at least the tension had eased. 'Any chance yo guys got a hit left for an old man?' A voice said from the darkness. Wade turned around, and there he stood a wizened figure with a short gray beard and a leather jacket. 'Who the hell are you?' Alex asked. 'I'm your uncle Nails you bastard!' The old man shot forward and shook Alex's hand enthusiastically. 'Oh shit, we were wondering where you were.' Wade handed the joint over to Nails, who quickly took a couple of large pulls. 'What, you thought I wasn't going to show?' He asked Alex icily. 'No.' Alex replied. 'It's just we were waiting a little bit longer than you said so.. his voice trailed off. 'So you don't think I'm a man of my word? you think I just blow people off and not tell them why?' 'No it's just we thought you know we were wondering where you were.' Nails passed the joint back to Wade and stared at them in silence. 'Don't worry about it, I'm just fucking with you.' He said finally. 'Come on, step into my office I heard we have some business to discuss.'
They got out and Nails led them to his door, which was on the ground level. As they came in the first thing that struck wade was how surprisingly clean everything was. There were a few beer bottles on the nightstand and one of the pillows on the bed was slightly askew but otherwise everything was neat, well organized. There was a large T.V. in the middle of the room, as well as a small table next to the bed. Nails walked into the kitchen to the fridge, 'Either of you guys want a beer?' 'Sure.' He replied. Nails came out of the kitchen and handed him the cold bottle. Extra cold, he noticed. 'So Alex, how's your mother these days?' 'Pretty good.' Alex replied. They hadn't spoken in months in reality. 'So from what I understand you guys have been having some local trouble? Got ripped off by some people, and obviously being in the business you are in can't go to the police?' They both nodded. 'Obviously I can offer my services, however my services are not free, now out of respect for Alex's father I can offer something of a discount for you. 600 up front plus a quarter pound of your finest weed when it comes out.'
Wade said nothing but the look on his face betrayed his feelings. 'Look, it's no skin off my back if you do this deal or not, if anything if you don't its less work for me. Nails walked to kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, 'It's just, that if certain, people on the street know that that can just roll up to you and take what theyy want without any repercussion, that could set a dangerous precedent.' 'No, its fine, I'd just want to be sure, you wouldn't stiff us.' Alex gave him a look of horror. 'Certainly not. I may live outside the law but I still consider myself an honorable man. A man of my word.' Wade took a long swig of his beer, this isn't going to end well, he thought. 'As soon as I get the cash my associates and I will get started.' 'I can meet you tomorrow morning.' 'Good.' This isn't going to end well, Wade thought.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Jeff sat in his car, feeling the cold and wondering if this whole plan was such a good idea after all. He needed money, sure, they both did, and with the amount of cash Mike told him the guy had they would be all set for a little while. At least in theory, if everything Mike said was true, which Jeff wasn't sure it was. Mike had told him many things in the past that had turned out to be entirely false for the sole purpose of advancing whatever his agenda was, this could be one of them. He looked at the house, white, set back from the road slightly, there was nothing about it that would draw any attention. Certainly nothing to indicate that there was several pounds of weed in it, possibly thousands of dollars of cash. All you gotta do is go in, Jeff thought to himself, show him the gun, and take it. He's a drug dealer for, fucks sake, it's not like hes going to the cops. At least that was how Mike had put it to him. Just pull out the gun, demand the money, the drugs, and walk out that much richer. He had asked Mike why if if was so easy he hadn't done it earlier and Mike had explained that he had already done business with the guy, and that if he did it it would look sketchy. So I'm basically the fall guy, the one who does the dirty work, Jeff thought, as he looked at the house.
A couple of lights were on on the lower floors but other than that it looked quiet. Apparently the guy kept odd hours so it was likely that he was still up, a simple knock on the door then a quick brandishing of the pistol and out the door. I'm thinking about this whole thing way too much Jeff thought to himself. He took out his bottle of pills from his pocket and popped an oxycodone. It would take a little while to kick in but when it did at least it would take the edge off. He had snorted a couple of line of adderal before heading over, Mike had said later was the best bet, and it was a little after 11, and now he felt on edge. I need to smoke a joint I think. Well there a whole house of pot right in front of me, might as well go in. He grabbed opened the glove compartment and grabbed the gun, it felt cold in his hands. Here goes nothing, he thought to himself as he got out of the car and headed toward the white house.
Wade cracked open a beer as he flipped through the channels, not shit on, not much at all. Where the fuck is everyone, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his beer. Only 4 days ago everyone was talking about how if he could just front them and eigth they could square things up with him today. That they could paid on Friday and that's when they could get back to him. Now it was Friday and his phone was dead. No one had called, sent a text, facebook message, nothing. He had even sent out a few texts telling them he had something if they were still interested, but still no response. Not a single word, nothing. As if, in the span of those few days they had sworn off the drug entirely. He had even put out a couple buds for customers to sample if they wanted to try a little. But nothing, and now it was 11:30 and he was seriously considering going to bed and giving up on the whole endeavor. If someone was going to contact him, it would have happened by now. A good portion of his customers worked as cooks in restaurants and most them would be out by now.
Wade picked up his phone, nothing. Just the time and the date. What the fuck was going on? Sometimes it seemed like he sold it fast than he grew it, then sometimes it felt like he had more inventory then he could get rid of. Whenever he had a lot of product on hand, no one had money, and whenever he did everyone was broke. It felt like these two things were rarely in sync. It's payday for fucks sake, they should be banging down my door. It's not like the liquor store has this kind of problem. He contemplated calling some of them himself but decided that would look desperate. Pathetic. This is supposed to be some kind of recession proof business, like prostitution or something like that. The drugs would sell themselves, is what he had always heard. Still, it was harder then it looked. Anyone who had ever looked upon growing and selling bud as 'Easy money' clearly had never done it. Had never spent the time, or the vast amount of money necessary to bankroll such an operation. How a little bit of mold, or bugs or a myriad of other problems could stop something like this in it's tracks. Shut everything down. Not to mention all the people out to rob you outright..
The knock on the door was loud, three knocks, at first Wade had thought it was the cops. It was almost midnight so it seemed the most logical conclusion. It's alright, he thought. Just keep cool, they can't come in without probable cause. Maybe, but that wouldn't stop a cop hell bent on making some kind of bust. At least he didn't have to much on him at the moment, just a couple of ounces and 100 in cash. I could just ignore it, pretend I'm sleeping. The knock came again, louder this time. Almost desperate. Anticipating his answering the door with a kind of religious fervor. 'Who is it? He asked. The knocker didn't respond. 'Who the fuck is it?' He asked again feeling irritated. 'Hey man, I'm looking for something.' A voice finally responded. He got up from his chair and walked over to the door, first glancing in the peephole. A skinny man in cargo shorts stood in the doorway, who looked as if he was coming down from a meth binge. Against his better instincts he opened the deadbolt and opened the door. 'And who are you exactly?' 'I'm a friend of Alex. He told me you had the goodshit.' The man shifted as he spoke. Something about this was entirely off. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.' He began to close the door, but the man had other ideas. He heard the click of the pistol before he saw it. 'The weed, all of it.' The man said pointing it at his face. 'I don't know what you're talking about..' the man brandished the pistol again. 'I am not fucking around here.' 'Ok.' Wade said finally and headed back into his house. The man followed the pistol still at eye level. 'Where is the fucking weed?' The man asked again. 'Alright, don't worry I got you, I'm just going to get it.' The gun worried him, but the main thing that terrified him was the desperation in the mans eyes. Clearly this guy had taken quite a few wrong turns over the course of his life. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed his stash. His put it in a plastic bag and handed it to the man. 'That's it?' He asked. 'Yeah.' The man looked puzzled. 'Empty your fucking pockets.' Wade gave him his wallet, which had a hundred, as well as his cell phone. 'Don't spend it all in one place.' He said to him as he walked out.
Wade looked as his pastrami sandwich, pondering another bite. It certainly looked appetizing enough, grilled and with melted cheese, still he couldn't seem to manage to consume any more of it. 'So you didn't try to fight back or anything? You just let him take it?' Alex asked. As if that was the most logical response. He had already finished most of his coffee and all of his breakfast and was gesturing to the waitress for another cup. 'Well, like I said he had a gun.' Wade replied. 'So you let him just walk off will our stash?' 'Yeah that's how it happened.' Yeah I'm lying to you asshole. And since when was it our stash? The last time he checked he grew it, and spent most of the money for it. 'The guy said he knew you.' 'Oh so now it's all on me? Why the fuck didn't you think something was wrong when someone is knocking on your door that late?' 'I know.' Wade said meekly. Alex took another sip of coffee. 'Well this isn't the end of it, we have to hit back. Hard.' 'What the hell do you mean?' 'What I mean is I know a gut who can help us. A hitter, someone with connections.' Alex was always boasting about his 'connections.' How he 'knew people,' who could break legs, help him 'take care of things.' Even if Wade believed him, he didn't want any part of it. Selling weed was supposed to be fun, when you introduced guns and hired goons into the mix that is exactly what the whole thing ceased to be. Anyhow, it was Alex who, in his estimation had brought them to this scenario in the first place. He had brought Alex in to help with his distribution, which he had done little to actually help. Then Alex had started dealing with more and more dubious characters and Wade had a strong feeling one of them had discerned his address. 'Look, really it's not that big of a deal. I'll have the next batch done in a week then we can just got back to the way it was.' He could tell from the look on Alex's face that that wouldn't be enough. 'And everyone on the street know we just let ourselves get ripped off and didn't do anything about it?'
What the fuck are you talking about? Wade thought. What street? Who? But it was no use asking him something like that. Alex had seen so many mob movies and Tarantino flicks that he felt like he was in one. He was always talking about 'product,' and how they were perceived on the street. Sure getting ripped off was bad but he wasn't terribly enthusiastic about someone getting hurt or killed because of it. 'Look I just make one call, arrange a meeting. You tell him what happened, he gets us our product back. Or at least maybe the money from it.' 'And what would this person want in return for this service?' 'Not much, maybe some product, then were square. Nobody fucks with us again.' Wade nodded. 'And who is this guy again exactly?' 'Not sure what his real name is, but they call him 'Nails. He's in with Lucifer's disciples, biker gang.'
Oh yeah, this can't go wrong, Wade thought and took a bite of his sandwich.
A couple of lights were on on the lower floors but other than that it looked quiet. Apparently the guy kept odd hours so it was likely that he was still up, a simple knock on the door then a quick brandishing of the pistol and out the door. I'm thinking about this whole thing way too much Jeff thought to himself. He took out his bottle of pills from his pocket and popped an oxycodone. It would take a little while to kick in but when it did at least it would take the edge off. He had snorted a couple of line of adderal before heading over, Mike had said later was the best bet, and it was a little after 11, and now he felt on edge. I need to smoke a joint I think. Well there a whole house of pot right in front of me, might as well go in. He grabbed opened the glove compartment and grabbed the gun, it felt cold in his hands. Here goes nothing, he thought to himself as he got out of the car and headed toward the white house.
Wade cracked open a beer as he flipped through the channels, not shit on, not much at all. Where the fuck is everyone, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his beer. Only 4 days ago everyone was talking about how if he could just front them and eigth they could square things up with him today. That they could paid on Friday and that's when they could get back to him. Now it was Friday and his phone was dead. No one had called, sent a text, facebook message, nothing. He had even sent out a few texts telling them he had something if they were still interested, but still no response. Not a single word, nothing. As if, in the span of those few days they had sworn off the drug entirely. He had even put out a couple buds for customers to sample if they wanted to try a little. But nothing, and now it was 11:30 and he was seriously considering going to bed and giving up on the whole endeavor. If someone was going to contact him, it would have happened by now. A good portion of his customers worked as cooks in restaurants and most them would be out by now.
Wade picked up his phone, nothing. Just the time and the date. What the fuck was going on? Sometimes it seemed like he sold it fast than he grew it, then sometimes it felt like he had more inventory then he could get rid of. Whenever he had a lot of product on hand, no one had money, and whenever he did everyone was broke. It felt like these two things were rarely in sync. It's payday for fucks sake, they should be banging down my door. It's not like the liquor store has this kind of problem. He contemplated calling some of them himself but decided that would look desperate. Pathetic. This is supposed to be some kind of recession proof business, like prostitution or something like that. The drugs would sell themselves, is what he had always heard. Still, it was harder then it looked. Anyone who had ever looked upon growing and selling bud as 'Easy money' clearly had never done it. Had never spent the time, or the vast amount of money necessary to bankroll such an operation. How a little bit of mold, or bugs or a myriad of other problems could stop something like this in it's tracks. Shut everything down. Not to mention all the people out to rob you outright..
The knock on the door was loud, three knocks, at first Wade had thought it was the cops. It was almost midnight so it seemed the most logical conclusion. It's alright, he thought. Just keep cool, they can't come in without probable cause. Maybe, but that wouldn't stop a cop hell bent on making some kind of bust. At least he didn't have to much on him at the moment, just a couple of ounces and 100 in cash. I could just ignore it, pretend I'm sleeping. The knock came again, louder this time. Almost desperate. Anticipating his answering the door with a kind of religious fervor. 'Who is it? He asked. The knocker didn't respond. 'Who the fuck is it?' He asked again feeling irritated. 'Hey man, I'm looking for something.' A voice finally responded. He got up from his chair and walked over to the door, first glancing in the peephole. A skinny man in cargo shorts stood in the doorway, who looked as if he was coming down from a meth binge. Against his better instincts he opened the deadbolt and opened the door. 'And who are you exactly?' 'I'm a friend of Alex. He told me you had the goodshit.' The man shifted as he spoke. Something about this was entirely off. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.' He began to close the door, but the man had other ideas. He heard the click of the pistol before he saw it. 'The weed, all of it.' The man said pointing it at his face. 'I don't know what you're talking about..' the man brandished the pistol again. 'I am not fucking around here.' 'Ok.' Wade said finally and headed back into his house. The man followed the pistol still at eye level. 'Where is the fucking weed?' The man asked again. 'Alright, don't worry I got you, I'm just going to get it.' The gun worried him, but the main thing that terrified him was the desperation in the mans eyes. Clearly this guy had taken quite a few wrong turns over the course of his life. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed his stash. His put it in a plastic bag and handed it to the man. 'That's it?' He asked. 'Yeah.' The man looked puzzled. 'Empty your fucking pockets.' Wade gave him his wallet, which had a hundred, as well as his cell phone. 'Don't spend it all in one place.' He said to him as he walked out.
Wade looked as his pastrami sandwich, pondering another bite. It certainly looked appetizing enough, grilled and with melted cheese, still he couldn't seem to manage to consume any more of it. 'So you didn't try to fight back or anything? You just let him take it?' Alex asked. As if that was the most logical response. He had already finished most of his coffee and all of his breakfast and was gesturing to the waitress for another cup. 'Well, like I said he had a gun.' Wade replied. 'So you let him just walk off will our stash?' 'Yeah that's how it happened.' Yeah I'm lying to you asshole. And since when was it our stash? The last time he checked he grew it, and spent most of the money for it. 'The guy said he knew you.' 'Oh so now it's all on me? Why the fuck didn't you think something was wrong when someone is knocking on your door that late?' 'I know.' Wade said meekly. Alex took another sip of coffee. 'Well this isn't the end of it, we have to hit back. Hard.' 'What the hell do you mean?' 'What I mean is I know a gut who can help us. A hitter, someone with connections.' Alex was always boasting about his 'connections.' How he 'knew people,' who could break legs, help him 'take care of things.' Even if Wade believed him, he didn't want any part of it. Selling weed was supposed to be fun, when you introduced guns and hired goons into the mix that is exactly what the whole thing ceased to be. Anyhow, it was Alex who, in his estimation had brought them to this scenario in the first place. He had brought Alex in to help with his distribution, which he had done little to actually help. Then Alex had started dealing with more and more dubious characters and Wade had a strong feeling one of them had discerned his address. 'Look, really it's not that big of a deal. I'll have the next batch done in a week then we can just got back to the way it was.' He could tell from the look on Alex's face that that wouldn't be enough. 'And everyone on the street know we just let ourselves get ripped off and didn't do anything about it?'
What the fuck are you talking about? Wade thought. What street? Who? But it was no use asking him something like that. Alex had seen so many mob movies and Tarantino flicks that he felt like he was in one. He was always talking about 'product,' and how they were perceived on the street. Sure getting ripped off was bad but he wasn't terribly enthusiastic about someone getting hurt or killed because of it. 'Look I just make one call, arrange a meeting. You tell him what happened, he gets us our product back. Or at least maybe the money from it.' 'And what would this person want in return for this service?' 'Not much, maybe some product, then were square. Nobody fucks with us again.' Wade nodded. 'And who is this guy again exactly?' 'Not sure what his real name is, but they call him 'Nails. He's in with Lucifer's disciples, biker gang.'
Oh yeah, this can't go wrong, Wade thought and took a bite of his sandwich.
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