Time: 1830 Hrs.
Location: Cross Streets Bleecker/Barrow
John Doe “Doc” [CASE SUBJECT] - Male/Caucasian, Approx. 25-30 years old. 5’11 -6’2”, 200 LBS. Wearing: White dress shirt and tan pants.
On September 25, 2014 at approximately 1800 hours, while in a long term operation in an undercover capacity under the supervision of Lieutenant Masterson who was conducting a case buy operation in the confines of the 16 Precinct, I Undercover (UC) #C5192 picked up approximately 100 count Oxycontin in large clear container. Each Oxycontin cost $20.
In return I handed “Doc” $2000.00 USC/PRBM which he placed into his back pocket. I then shook his hand and informed the C.O. what transpired. No arrest made-Case Buy.
Chapter 4
Charlie
It was a Friday night and Bren was holding court on his couch; all his loyal subjects surrounding him. As always, I felt the unyielding desire to jump out of one of his windows.
Bren was actually sitting in the middle of his couch in a tuxedo, drinking an enormous goblet of brandy, and covered in a cheesy, dusting of Dorito crumbs. There were about half a dozen cheesy handprints on the pant legs of his tux.He better not ask me to take those filthy things to get dry cleaned tomorrow.
Next to him was Jett, son to a famous, washed out, bad-boy rock star. So washed out, I didn’t even remember his father’s name or what 90s hair band he was the front man for. Both idiots were balancing their drinks in their hands while holding X-box remotes and playing some sort of crazy fighting game with lots of guns, while their drinks spilled mindlessly and carelessly all over the floor.
I sat across from them, front row for the train wreck.
Added to my entertainment was a barely dressed woman named Lola, who sat next to me and repeatedly rubbed her thighs together and giggled like some demented horny cricket. Supposedly, she was a district attorney. Wow, I felt safe with her crickety pheromones running rampant.
“You are the luckiest girl on earth,” she said to me. “You know, to have someone like Bren. He is sohawt.”
I pitied our justice system.
Then Bren jumped up, arms waving in the air, doing some idiotic victory dance, while Jett grimaced, cursed, and threw the game controller at the wall.
Disgustingly impressive, he threw it so hard that it stuck right in the drywall.
Violet sat silent on the other side of me, frozen, with that deer caught in the headlights look. She may have been in shock; she had never seen Bren act like this. Plus, Bren (thewonderfullythoughtfulguy he was) thought it was a terrific idea to invite Matt, so the poor girl was crapping a pill the entire time.
“So,” Lola said, placing her hand on my knee. “Is Sage your real name?”
Shaking my head, I gave her my typical Groucho Marx answer, “Nope, it’s not mine. I’m just breaking it in for someone else.”
Her eyes crossed in confusion.
“Didn’t you say she was a district attorney?” Violet whispered next to me.
Lola finally laughed. “And what is ityoudo for a living,Saaaggggeee?” she asked, purposely enunciating each letter of my nickname. “It sounds a bit like a stripper’s name.”
Yeah. That’s original and not at all bitchy. Nope, I never heardthatstereotypical remark before.
“I’m an artist, and I was asked to teach a few classes this semester at the School of Visual Arts,” I said, quietly. My mind was done with the conversation between us and was steadily watching what Bren was taking out of his pocket and setting up all along the coffee table.
Bren looked up at me through his pretty little lashes, his lips in a pouty expression, already asking me for forgiveness for what he was going to do in front of me. His hands spread out a mountain of fine, white powder, and then divided it up into smaller straight lines. It was like something you’d see on television or in one of those horrible 80s movies about disco and drugs.
His eyes shifted to Lola and then back to me, “Sage is a tattoo artist. Best one in the whole city,”
Bren bent over the table and snorted a long line of whatever the hell it was in front of him. What was it, cocaine? I knew nothing about drugs, but I knew all about vomiting, which was exactly what I felt like doing. He lifted his head to continue talking to her, but only looked at me, “I’ve been working my ass off to get her shop on the new reality show,Forever Inked. She doesn’t need to be some stuffy art history professor in some stupid-ass college she went to. She’s gonna be a star.”
A wave of hatred and disdain surged through me. Was I the only one who thought that what he just did was nasty and vile? And why the Hell are the things that are important to me to do with my life, like my dreams, easily swept aside by him? Who the Hell was he to judge my dreams and tear me down, like my feelings about my life were insignificant, and thathehad the final say?
Bren turned his glassy eyes away from me and smiled stupidly at the ceiling. Matt leaned on the couch behind him with a menacing look directed toward me. He'd been watching us the entire time we were there.
“Oh, what a cute little job,” Lola smirked at me. Then thedistrict attorneybent over her side of the coffee table and snorted double the amount of cocaine that Bren did.
