Vince and Vic joined in.
"I knew you'd come crawling back," said Dealerman, a chorus of giggles followed his remark. "They always come back. They say they're clean and sober, but they get the taste and then they slither back to me."
I stood there, listening to the belly laughs and wishing I had a way out.
"Shouldn't I be wearing a wire?"
Friday shot me a look. "You want to die?"
"No."
"Then shut your mouth, asshole. You wear a wire, they frisk you and find it, bang-- you've got a tag on your toe."
I hate cops in general, but these two dweebs take the cake. He asked me if I wanted to die.
Deep down I think they're not going to let me live because after I'm done doing what they want-- I bet I'll be just another fleeing felon gunned down on the mean streets of LA.
"Listen when I talk to you, scum bag," Gannon said, nudging me in the face. "This is what you're gonna do. Get cozy with them, pay off your debt and arrange a large buy. When they hand you the stuff, we bust their sorry asses."
"I owed these guys money. Why would they think I got the bucks to pay for ten keys?"
Gannon flipped out an envelope and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. "Take this and buy an ounce. That should show them you mean business."
"How'd I get all this money?"
"Tell them your Aunt Petunia died. I don't give a shit. Just get them to trust you."
I took the money and left.
On the way out I ran into Hugo's friend Kurt.
He put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll be watching your back."
"Thanks." I said, walking away.
Just what I need. Another cop wanting to be my buddy.
"Too bad about your Aunt Petunia," Dealerman said handing over a small block of coke. "I'll get the rest to you later."
I put it in my overcoat pocket.
"Ain't you gonna taste it?"
"Nah," I said. "This stuff's just for sale."
Dealerman grabbed my hand and reached into his coat pocket.
I thought I was dead.
He pulled out a little vile of coke and poured a bit on my upper-hand. "On the house."
I looked at him, bent down and took the hit.
