I chug a few gulps, inhaling the scent of motor oil. “Do you want me to sign a fucking contract?”
He points the tip of his bottle at me, his dark eyes stony.
A shiver creeps up the back of my neck at the way he’s studying me. I make another mental note not to piss off Ray. I get this churning feeling in my gut that if I do he’ll put a bullet in my skull.
He struts over to a round table with four chairs outside an office. “Desperation doesn’t look good on anyone,” he finally says as he waves me over. “But I like you.” He slides into a chair, and I do the same.
“What about longevity?” I’m compelled to ask. “I can’t promise you that I’ll be selling for you next month.” I want to be as honest as I can. He needs to know I’m not a lifer in this business.
He rubs his chin. “Let’s just see where this relationship goes.” He wags a finger between us. “Then we can talk about longevity.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that, but I will worry about my future later. “So, I’m in?”
“Let’s talk specifics.” He takes another swig of his beer. “My operation caters to the Molly market. I run the southern half of the state, but most of my money comes from a small area in and around Charleston. We cater mostly to college kids or anyone who can afford the two-hundred-and-forty-dollar bag of Molly pills. There’s a dozen pills in a bag, and some of my dealers bring in about a grand a night after they pay me my cut.”
I school my features as I’m doing some math in my head. “And my cut?” A grand a night doesn’t sound bad, but it all depends on how many bags I have to sell, and since this will be a part-time gig, I need to get the biggest bang for my time.
“Ten percent.” He eyes me with hesitation.
I sit back against the wooden chair. My mind is calculating. I would have to sell forty bags a night to bring in just shy of a grand. I’m not saying it’s not possible, but with classes, homework, practice, and football, I would have to hustle hard or sell on campus, and the latter isn’t going to happen. “I want fifty percent.”
He takes off his ball cap, runs his gnarly fingers over his crew cut and chews on his lip ring before barking out a laugh. “No fucking way.”
His arrogant smile contains amusement, and that rubs me the wrong way. I stiffen. He may throw me out on my ass, but Donnie taught me go big or go home. I stab a finger at the Aston Martin. “She yours?” I’m asking to prove a point.
His greasy forehead creases. “You want one?”
Fuck yeah. That sweet ride has a thousand horses underneath the hood. The thought of getting behind the wheel, starting the engine, and letting that beauty purr beneath my body makes my dick rock hard.
I temper my lust for the expensive ride. I’m here to do business not jack off over the car. “If you can afford a two-million-dollar car, you can pay me fifty percent of what I sell in a night.” He’s never going to agree to that, but I’m starting off high so I can negotiate the best deal. Twenty percent is the goal I have in mind. At that rate, I would have to sell twenty bags a night, which is more doable than forty. Even if I sold ten a night, that’s close to five hundred, and in a week’s time, I would be happy with two to three grand. That amount would certainly take care of Mom and Phoebe. Besides, I remember rich assholes in New Jersey who bought up the inventory Donnie gave me in one transaction.
Ray slaps his hand on the table, the sound exploding. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” His voice rises in pitch, as all trace of amusement evaporates.
I don’t move or flinch or say a word. I know he wants a reaction out of me or to see if I’m scared.
His two goons at the door ready their Glocks at me.
Fuck if I care.
You should care. Think of your sister.
I stand. “I guess I’ll find another gig.” I don’t take my eyes off him. I’m not one to waver or run away with my tail tucked in between my legs.
Another thing Donnie taught me.As frightened as you are of the person you’re making the deal with, don’t ever let them see your fear.
His chest inflates before he releases all the air through his nostrils. “I know Donnie didn’t give you fifty percent. And you must be high if you think I’ll agree to your demands. But if you’re as good as Donnie says you are then I can offer fifteen percent.”
“Twenty percent,” I fire back. “And to put you at ease, I’ll even commit to work for you for the next three months.” The latter should satisfy his longevity bullshit. I can’t say I blame him for that. After all, he is running a business, and he wants to keep his clients happy. But I just might’ve stuck my foot in my mouth, because in the drug business, there’s no such thing as long-term employment when the risks are high for all sorts of shit to go wrong.
He’s thinking hard until his lips curl at the edges. “I’ll take your offer. But you need to do one thing before I hire you.”
* * *
Fucking Ray Diazwants me to sell five bags of Molly tonight to prove to him I can sell.
The task should be easy until he dumps me on a street corner of abandoned buildings with only two homeless people in sight.
The night air is humid, and the stench of piss is burning my nostrils.
