Page 38 of The Smart Killer
“He’s cool. If I say he is. Is he on it?”
“No.”
“Then get him on it. We need to ensure he doesn’t speak. From now on, anyone who is distributing must be using.”
“But you said they need to be clear-headed.”
“I know what I said, but it’s easier to control someone who relies on us for more than cash. And from now on, you bring them to me. I’ll vet any newcomers. In the meantime, you speak to this kid, find out more about his relationship with his father, and get him hooked on this shit.”
“I don’t feel good about this, Gav. I say we just give it some time.”
“Time?” Gavin spun around and pushed him up against the wall. “You calling the fucking shots now, Zeke? Do you remember where you were when I pulled you out of the shithole you were in? You didn’t have two dimes to rub together. I’ve given you everything, and I can take it all back. Don’t forget it!” He jabbed a stiff finger into his chest. “Now take this, and get to work!”
As he left the dimly lit back room with a duffel bag of narcotics, Zeke’s thoughts swirled. He strolled back into the central area of the bowling alley, his eyes scanning the crowd. Among the bowling lanes, groups of teenagers huddled, whispering and exchanging secretive glances. Zeke recognized the signs — anticipation and restlessness — tonight was a big night.
He approached a group of well-known teens — Sarah, Hunter, and Lily. They were the ones he trusted the most, the ones who had repeatedly proven their loyalty. They were his top-level distributors, the ones responsible for getting the drugs into the hands of other teens and, ultimately, eager customers.
“Hey, Zeke,” Sarah greeted him, her eyes wide with excitement. “We’re ready to roll. Got a list of orders and everything.”
Zeke nodded, exchanging the duffel bag for a wad of cash. “Remember, keep it low-key. We don’t want any unnecessary attention.”
Sarah handed off the bag.
“You seen Davis?” Zeke asked.
“I think I saw him in the parking lot a few minutes ago.”
With a shared understanding, the teens dispersed, blending seamlessly into the crowd. Zeke watched them go, his heart pounding with anxiety. He knew the risks involved, the danger of dealing with heavy narcotics in a town where everyone seemed to know everyone else. But he also knew the power he held, the influence he wielded over the youths, and Gavin’s connections.
He’d yet to see who fed him the narcotics. A blacked-out vehicle would pull in at the rear, always at night, once a month, and Gavin would get in, and they would drive away. Where he was taken was anyone’s guess. Zeke’s job was simple, his cut fair, far above what the boots on the ground received.
“Mark. Can you take over? I’ll return in about half an hour. If Gavin asks, I’m over at the hive.” The house owned by Gavin was nicknamed the hive simply because teens came and went on a steady basis like bees. Cops had been sniffing around, but everyone who used the place knew the deal. They had those who watched out for 5-0 from upstairs windows and easy ways to get rid of the drugs if they were ever busted. The thing was, cops were too busy breaking doors down in crack houses, not an upscale home owned by a reputable local who was known for using the house to give teens a place to stay. Gavin had been clever and used it as his home. He was married. Had two kids of his own. The whole damn family was in on it. He was as crooked as they came.
Zeke headed out, eyeing the crowd of adults and teens preparing to enter the alley. Among them, Richy Davis, a sixteen-year-old punk he knew through a buddy of his, was leaning against a dated Mustang. Multiple teens sat on the hood, and others leaned against it, shooting the breeze and smoking cigarettes.
“Richy,” he said, motioning with two fingers to draw him away.
Richy unslung his arm from around a girl wearing clothes that left little to the imagination. He approached, all smiles. “Wassup?”
“Your boy Ethan. Things good with him?”
“Yeah. Nothing unusual. Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you didn’t fucking tell me his old man is a cop.”
Richy glanced over to Ethan, who was perched on the back of the Mustang. “He never told me that. I swear. If he had, I wouldn’t have…” he trailed off, realizing his mistake. “Look, you want him gone?”
“No. I want you to introduce me to him.”
Richy stared back, studying Zeke as if trying to gauge his thoughts. “Yeah, sure. Hold on a second.” He strode over and spoke briefly with Ethan who glanced over before they returned.
“Ethan. This is Zeke.”
Ethan replied casually, “Hey.”
“Walk with me.” Zeke turned and Ethan fell in step as they left the group behind. “Richy told me you have been doing a good job finding buyers.”
“I guess.”
