“Yeah, tell me about it. My credit is shot. I couldn’t get a loan for a pack of gum right now.”
“So who’d you know that got you in?” Morgan asked.
“My uncle,” he said. “Used to use. Never dealt, but got friendly with one of his dealers. I used to be a major pothead, and I started buying from his guy after my uncle quit. Pretty soon I couldn’t afford to buy, so my man asked if I was going through tough times. I told him what had happened, and he offered to make an introduction for me. I’m not above this. To me, it’s all the same whether you’re selling junk, real estate or stocks. In the end you’re giving something to somebody that they think will make them happier. And whether it’s financial, emotional or chemical happiness, who the hell are we to judge? Are the people who get strung out on dope any worse than people like me who lose everything on some bad bets? I figure if I can do something to get myself out of this mess and make some coin, why not?”
“I know what you mean,” Morgan said.
“I bet you do.”
Theo and Morgan got off the train at Twenty-third and
Park and headed east. The Manhattan neighborhood of
Gramercy tended to be full of young professionals who enjoyed the area’s local bars (both dive and trendy).
Morgan used to come here often for the movie theater at
Kips Bay, and noticed that over the last few years the population appeared to grow a little more affluent, likely due to doctors working at Bellevue and small business owners who moved into vacated storefronts.
They walked side by side, matching briefcases slung over their shoulders. If anybody looked at them, it was only because they might have been slightly jealous that two younger guys had weathered the economic storm, as that could be the only explanation for their attire and accessories.
Morgan took out the cell phone from his coat pocket.
It was old, nearly an antique, and he was amazed that this piece of junk still even worked. Still, Leonard had given it to them for a reason.
Right after they’d packed up their briefcases with specific quantities of various drugs, Leonard had given them each a cell phone. And this was how it worked.
Before they left the warehouse/club, they’d be given an address. The address was of their first customer of the day. The customer had called somebody, probably some sort of switchboard at another location, and placed an order. That order was relayed to one of the courier teams, who were then dispatched to the location. The customer would also have placed an order and they were also quoted a price. Once arriving at the location, Leonard said, they would make the transaction with the customer.
Once leaving the customer’s address, they would call the number programmed in the cell phone as Home.
After confirming the deal, they would be sent a text message with the address of their next transaction, as well as the price quoted to the customer for whatever they’d requested.
Obviously there would be a little flexibility, as sometimes the customer would buy more than they’d initially requested. And sometimes, of course, they would buy less, often because the customer didn’t have enough money to pay for the goods.
It was a regular business, Leonard said.
All orders would be kept track of, and Leonard’s people also knew the exact quantities of drugs given to the couriers as well as their value. At the end of the day,
Leonard said, just like any other business they would make sure the goods matched the receipts, and confirm that all the money was handed over.
Assuming Theo and Morgan were honest, they would have no problems. If there were ever any payment issues, or they’d taken in more (or less) money than expected, all they had to do was relay the information.
The quicker they worked the more money they made, the more stops they’d be able to hit during the day. You wanted to take a two-hour lunch? Your take would suffer.
Get caught in traffic? Tough shit.
The only people who moved up in this world were the ones who fully dedicated themselves. You want vacation days? You got ’em. Only your creditors don’t really think of them that way.
The first stop was on Nineteenth and Third, off the corner of the avenue, a brownstone wedged between a cellular phone store and a diner. Morgan walked up and pressed the buzzer for 5A, taking a quick look around them to see if anyone was watching.
“You need to relax, man,” Theo said. “Ain’t nobody thinking twice about us.”
“Who is it?” came the scratchy voice.
“Delivery,” Morgan said.
“I didn’t order… Oh wait, yeah, come right up.”
Another buzzer went off and the door unlatched. They entered the lobby and went over to the elevator. It was not a particularly nice brownstone. The floor tiles were chipping, and it looked like with just minimum force he could have pried open any mailbox he chose.
The elevator arrived and they took it to the fifth floor in silence. Morgan held his briefcase, feeling the plastic crinkle through the leather. Theo watched him do this but said nothing.
When the door opened, they turned left (A-D) and rang the doorbell for 5A.
“Who is it?” the familiar voice said.
“Delivery,” Morgan said.
“Oh yeah, right, come on in.”
The door opened, revealing a tall, thin guy in his mid-thirties wearing pajama bottoms, a loose T-shirt and slippers. The apartment behind him was sparingly furnished. There was a cot covered in faded blankets, an old twenty-four-inch television, and a bookshelf with textbooks. Morgan looked closer. The textbooks had odd titles like Principles of Economics and Finan- cial Management: Theory and Practice. The books looked well used.
The man had a three-day beard growth and his hair looked like it hadn’t been combed since the last time he’d shaved. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his breathing was quick. Morgan had no doubt the man had a serious coke problem. He supposed that’s why they were there.
The man moved out of the way and ushered them inside, waving his hand like he was shooing away an unpleasant smell.
“Two of you,” he said, looking at Theo. “Is he like your bodyguard?”
Theo simply replied, “One eight ball. That right?”
The man nodded his head vigorously and reached out his hand.
Theo placed his briefcase on a small wooden coffee table, stained with circular rings and other substances that couldn’t even be guessed. Theo undid the lock and rummaged through the case, eventually coming up with a small plastic pouch containing white powder. Marked on the outside were the numbers 1/8, for an eighth of an ounce.
The man’s eyes went wide.
“That’s a hundred and fifty,” Theo said.
The man reached into his pockets (it didn’t occur to
Morgan that they made pajama bottoms that had pockets) and pulled out seven crumpled twenties and two fives. He handed them over to Theo like he was getting rid of toxic material. He put out his hand eagerly and Theo dropped the pouch into it.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Theo said.
“Hey, man, one sec,” the guy said, his eyes rimmed with red. “I heard about this new drug, dark something.”
“Darkness,” Theo said.
“Yeah. Supposedly it’ll mess you up right. You ever tried it?”
Morgan shook his head. Theo said, “No.”
The guy stammered, almost embarrassed. “You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”
“Matter of fact,” Theo said, “we do. How much do you want?”
“I’m not sure,” the guy said. “How much is enough for a few good hits? I don’t want to love the stuff and have to call you right back.”
“Three rocks,” Theo said. “We have an introductory offer, and it’s enough for a few hits.”
“And how much is this introductory offer?”
“Three rocks? That’ll run you fifty bucks for the first purchase. Call it a beginner’s discount. After that it’s twenty-five a pop.”
“S’not bad,” the guy said. “Can I try the intro offer?”