Page 5 of Deceit & Destruction

Mike Robinson

“Well,well, look who it is Primo…The Baller.”

I force myself not to flinch at the familiar nickname Primo and his boys have given me and turn my attention away from Primo’s second in command to take in thecapohimself.

“Primo,” I regard, watching as he quietly assesses me. It’s uncanny how much he resembles Al Pacino, just stick a mountain of blow in front of him and we have a reboot. Although, his accent might need some work.

He leans forward, folding his hands on top of the wooden table.

“They always come back,” he says as he angles his head and pierces me with a curious stare. “I thought you were done, Baller boy. That fancy school not so hot anymore?”

I hooked up with Primo my freshman year and I’ve been his number one dealer at Stonewall since, but his operation is huge, and his bread is on the streets. That’s why he didn’t give me too much shit when I told him I couldn’t move his product on campus anymore. He had something to fall back on. I, on the other hand, did not, and Primo knew he was only cutting me loose for a little while. I’d be back, hungrier than I was before and just a touch more desperate.

Reaching behind me, I cup the back of my neck and consider Primo’s question. There’s definitely still some chatter floating around Stonewall, but Jennings’ disappearance definitely has helped him look like the guilty party and not me. I should be able to move a little weight without getting pinched so I long as I keep my head down, make smart moves, and stick to my goal.

Greed has no place in this game.

Not when I’ve got so much at stake.

“Things are cooling down,” I reply evenly, lowering my hand back to my side. “Just to play it safe I think I should start back up with half of my usual take. If I can get rid of that without bringing any attention to me, then we can talk about doubling down.”

If that works out, I’ll have enough money to hire a tutor and maybe even quit bartending at Dizzy’s. I’ve been so focused on trying to come up with the money I need that I didn’t stop to think about what would happen when I get the money. I’m already stretching myself thin—hence the reason I’m in this mess. Now, on top of all my other obligations, I’m gonna be running drugs. If I don’t quit Dizzy’s, there’s not going to be any time for me to sit with my tutor and get my grades up.

Primo unfolds his hands, lifting one to scratch at chiseled jaw.

“If I give you half the product then I’m going to expect you to flip it in twenty-four hours. That a problem for you?”

Well, there goes that plan.

I’m going toneedto work at Dizzy’s if he expects that kind of turn around.

Looks like everyone is getting a side of coke with their fireball.

Forcing a swallow, I shake my head and feign indifference.

“Not a problem,” I assure him. That being said, there is something I need to make clear. “I’m not taking any H though—that shit is the poor man’s drugs, and these fucks were all born with a silver spoon in their mouth. They shit dollars.”

If twenty-four hours is all I have, I’m not wasting a second of it trying to move garbage.

“So coke and pills,” Ace, Primo’s second in command, says.

Coke is good, but pills are where the gravy is at.

I jerk my chin in reply. Slinging my backpack off my shoulder, I place it on the table between us and look between the two men.

“Make it a variety of pills. Oxy’s, Percs—you know the drill.”

Give me all thecandy.

I pull open the zipper and nudge the empty bag toward them. Primo and Ace exchange a look, then Ace is on his feet, moving toward the safe in the back of the room. He punches in the code and opens the steel door, pulling out a couple of bricks of coke and three Ziplock bags full of pills.

That’s it.

Fill ‘er up.

Primo logs what I’m taking, and they load my backpack with the goods. I reach for the bag, but Primo tugs it back, drawing the zipper himself. Then he lifts his dark eyes to mine.

Yeah, total ringer for Pacino.

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