It was after midnight but the place was lit up like a
baseball stadium. I had planned for this unwelcome deterrent by paying an
employee to steal a janitor uniform from an unsecured locker inside the bus
station days earlier. I had purposely not shaved or showered that day to look
as unkempt and in the role as possible. This was going to be a quick score but
the getaway would be dangerous. We were going to steal $100,000 from my drug
dealers boss.
The plan started forming weeks earlier when I went to the
flop house to pick up my usual supply from my main guy. I had put in a lot of
low level work, and had built up a reputation with him over the past year
because I was always on time, always had what I owed, or communicated with him
if anything wasn't right. I was going to leave that house with a quarter pound,
or 112 grams of meth. By itself, it's possible to pick up 10 years Federally if
I were caught with it. Have that quantity near a pistol or a sizeable amount of
cash, 20 years no problem.
This particular night my guys boss was there making his
weekly delivery. I knew him by his nickname but we had never been formally
introduced. King was a giant Native man that had been in and out of prison and
in the game his whole life. He stood to introduce himself and towered over me
by what seemed like a foot. Covered in Native tribal tattoos from head to toe,
he looked deep into my eyes. Was he reading me? I struggled to maintain myself
but I was able to keep my cool. He was a very intimidating man, but he said he
had heard good things about me and wanted to show me something.
He pointed to a gym bag on the floor and motioned for me to
get it for him. I obliged, half expecting a gun in my face when I turned
around, but he just took it and set it on the couch. He unzipped it and I saw
what looked like emerald city inside. Two kilos of meth, almost five pounds,
was just sitting there. I wasn't nervous or afraid even knowing if the cops came
through the door right now, all of our lives would be completed from behind
bars. He said, “Now you have access to anything you will ever need. You’ve
proved yourself time and time again, and you have earned this opportunity.” He
went on with the standard talk about me being brutally murdered if I ever
fucked him over or ratted him out to the cops. He said he knew a lot of my
friends, and could easily have people find my family if I were ever to go
astray and spend his money on my desires. We locked eyes again and I nodded,
and we shook hands.
I left the house with a pound of methamphetamine. I slinked
out the front door and around to the unlit back alley which I would take down
the block to my car which I parked far away from the actual meeting location as
to not arouse suspicion from police with traffic coming and going from the
stash house.
It was so dark it was nearly impossible to tell in which
direction I was walking. Aside from the usual paranoia of being up for too many
days, I was sure I was being followed. Somebody pacing me. Maybe it was just my
echo bouncing off of the bushes aroun-- That’s when I felt a blinding pain on
my right temple. I tried to run but I was already crumpled in a heap on the
cement. I knew who and where I was, and I knew what I had. My first and only
thought was that I was getting robbed but I couldn’t even fight back because my arms
and legs were limp. It was quiet, but I could hear somebody or something pacing
around me. Whatever it was it was breathing excitedly, like a hyena circling an
injured gazelle. And then he said, “Listen very carefully, and do everything I
say or I will gut you right here.” I felt cold steel against my stomach. I was
fucked.
To be continued.
