(no subject)
My father was almost caught on August 2nd of 2005, it’s ironically the same day he moved to Columbia. I’ve been running this business since August 3rd. The morning after his death. I decided to help him carry on his legacy like he’d always wanted. He had already written me out a little ‘booklet’ on how to run things per say, just in case he had to flea.. It was just instructions on who to call, what to avoid, etc. I have kept the same apartment, the same connections and the same customers of my father. His legacy is being carried on very nicely. I still talk to him daily on the phone and I get all of the advice I need. He’s the biggest help I could ever ask for. Being 17 years old and doing what I do, it can be pretty difficult, not to mention stressful. Oh whatever, I’m just the guy your friend’s friend tells to call when you need some crack, that’s all.
I finished up the game of computer solitaire I had been playing and answered my cell phone. It was an unknown number but I need not fret, the business of dealing drugs has never been about knowing your clients. They told me they were in a traveling rock band (no surprise here) the y wanted me to meet them at the air port with a bag of cocaine. 4 grams to be exact, we bickered over the price but ultimately they realized I wasn’t budging and they were going to have to cough over 600 dollars. I know it’s a bit pricey, but if they’re making me deliver in such a risky atmosphere, I’ll be damned if I don’t make a few extra bucks. I went to the ‘vault’ as me and my father have always called it and I weighed them out their 4 grams. I hopped into my car, a black 1999 Ford Taurus and I was off. The air port is only about 25 minutes from where I live so the drive won’t be too bad. However, getting them the 4 grams of Cocaine without getting arrested, that’s a completely different story.
I parked in the nearest parking spot which was almost a mile away from the actual air port. That’s nothing to be surprised with though. It’s July and this is the premiere time for people to be traveling to the San Diego area. California may have its perks but parking was not one of them. I was told by the band’s manager that I should be keeping an eye out for a man with short jet black hair and a massive scar over one eye. Luckily, dealing with shady characters is my speciality. I walked into the air port and made an attempt at looking as normal as possible. I spotted the aforementioned scarred man standing alone near one of the cafes in the airport. I approached him and as dimwittedly as possible, I asked him if he was the one who was there to pick up the “stuff”. He replied with a yes and told me to follow him. I knew exactly where this was leading. Our stroll ended in the back of the band’s van. I sold them their coke, they were all very appreciative and even offered to share a bit with me. I decided that for my own sake, trying to find my car in this bastardly garage would be hard enough sober, so no, there would be no blow for me.
I smiled to myself over the simplicity of it all. It almost feels as if this business is getting easier and easier. I was born into it so it’s not as if I’m some rookie. My father was the biggest drug dealer in San Diego for many years. He sold to all the big regulars, huge touring bands and even politicians who were looking for a fun day off. His business was ran out of the apartment that I grew up in. I had a good child hood and money was never ever a problem. My father was very open with his ‘profession’ and treated it like any other job. He didn’t even do most of the drugs he sold. As I was growing up it was getting more likely that my father would be caught. He decided to teach me the ‘tricks of the trade’ and I personally don’t think I’m doing too bad of a job. My dad loved me, that’s all that matters.
My dad always told me to avoid women. “They just make things more complicated” were his exact words if I remember correctly. I agree. Women do complicate things. However, the one I met in the airport that day, she can complicate my day anytime she wants to. I was walking to my car when all of I sudden I spotted her. She was in a phone booth, clearly upset and trying to contact one of her uncles or cousins or something to pick her up. She couldn’t get through. I approached the booth and as respectfully as possible I prepared myself to talk to her.
“Are you okay” I asked her with absolutely no confidence that she would even grant me the wonder of her voice.
“No, I’m not. I’m stuck in this air port til tommorow morning” I smiled as I could see the anger in her eyes.
“Oh yeah? That’s a drag, I’m Cove.”
“I’m Jess”
“Well, Jess, if you’re not busy and I’m not busy, maybe you’d be interested in getting to know me a little better, I know I’d love to know you”
“Your style is a bit overrated, but I suppose I could grant you permission to take me out tonight, it’s not like I have anything better to do” replied Jess with a touch of score to her voice. We went to my car and we left.
I had managed to meet a beautiful girl and get a date with her all within one random 5 minute conversation. Yet, for some reason, I wasn’t surprised. Something about this girl just felt...natural to me and I liked it.
Criticism is welcome. I wrote this all in about 20 minutes or so.
I finished up the game of computer solitaire I had been playing and answered my cell phone. It was an unknown number but I need not fret, the business of dealing drugs has never been about knowing your clients. They told me they were in a traveling rock band (no surprise here) the y wanted me to meet them at the air port with a bag of cocaine. 4 grams to be exact, we bickered over the price but ultimately they realized I wasn’t budging and they were going to have to cough over 600 dollars. I know it’s a bit pricey, but if they’re making me deliver in such a risky atmosphere, I’ll be damned if I don’t make a few extra bucks. I went to the ‘vault’ as me and my father have always called it and I weighed them out their 4 grams. I hopped into my car, a black 1999 Ford Taurus and I was off. The air port is only about 25 minutes from where I live so the drive won’t be too bad. However, getting them the 4 grams of Cocaine without getting arrested, that’s a completely different story.
I parked in the nearest parking spot which was almost a mile away from the actual air port. That’s nothing to be surprised with though. It’s July and this is the premiere time for people to be traveling to the San Diego area. California may have its perks but parking was not one of them. I was told by the band’s manager that I should be keeping an eye out for a man with short jet black hair and a massive scar over one eye. Luckily, dealing with shady characters is my speciality. I walked into the air port and made an attempt at looking as normal as possible. I spotted the aforementioned scarred man standing alone near one of the cafes in the airport. I approached him and as dimwittedly as possible, I asked him if he was the one who was there to pick up the “stuff”. He replied with a yes and told me to follow him. I knew exactly where this was leading. Our stroll ended in the back of the band’s van. I sold them their coke, they were all very appreciative and even offered to share a bit with me. I decided that for my own sake, trying to find my car in this bastardly garage would be hard enough sober, so no, there would be no blow for me.
I smiled to myself over the simplicity of it all. It almost feels as if this business is getting easier and easier. I was born into it so it’s not as if I’m some rookie. My father was the biggest drug dealer in San Diego for many years. He sold to all the big regulars, huge touring bands and even politicians who were looking for a fun day off. His business was ran out of the apartment that I grew up in. I had a good child hood and money was never ever a problem. My father was very open with his ‘profession’ and treated it like any other job. He didn’t even do most of the drugs he sold. As I was growing up it was getting more likely that my father would be caught. He decided to teach me the ‘tricks of the trade’ and I personally don’t think I’m doing too bad of a job. My dad loved me, that’s all that matters.
My dad always told me to avoid women. “They just make things more complicated” were his exact words if I remember correctly. I agree. Women do complicate things. However, the one I met in the airport that day, she can complicate my day anytime she wants to. I was walking to my car when all of I sudden I spotted her. She was in a phone booth, clearly upset and trying to contact one of her uncles or cousins or something to pick her up. She couldn’t get through. I approached the booth and as respectfully as possible I prepared myself to talk to her.
“Are you okay” I asked her with absolutely no confidence that she would even grant me the wonder of her voice.
“No, I’m not. I’m stuck in this air port til tommorow morning” I smiled as I could see the anger in her eyes.
“Oh yeah? That’s a drag, I’m Cove.”
“I’m Jess”
“Well, Jess, if you’re not busy and I’m not busy, maybe you’d be interested in getting to know me a little better, I know I’d love to know you”
“Your style is a bit overrated, but I suppose I could grant you permission to take me out tonight, it’s not like I have anything better to do” replied Jess with a touch of score to her voice. We went to my car and we left.
I had managed to meet a beautiful girl and get a date with her all within one random 5 minute conversation. Yet, for some reason, I wasn’t surprised. Something about this girl just felt...natural to me and I liked it.
Criticism is welcome. I wrote this all in about 20 minutes or so.