Chapter 4
TIM
Just like every other stuck-up rich kid, he wants a little kink. To live on the edge.
He craves it.
Keith liked it wild, too. The problem with Mark is that he has all the power. With Keith, it was fun fucking around, but I never felt like he was taking charge. Mark isn’t like that at all.
He knows what he’s signed up for, especially after what Keith surely told him about how I don’t do more than sex.
He likes that there’s no commitment here. That we can fuck without emotion or a care in the world. That it can get as dirty as he wants it to get, and that at the end of the day, even if someone finds out, it’ll seem like a crazy rumor to anyone who might matter.
After we finished up in the stairwell, I left Mark scrambling for his clothes. I didn’t ask for his number, even though I wanted to. I didn’t tell him I wanted to hook up again, even though I do. I just told him, “See ya ’round,” and got the fuck out of there.
We’ll see each other again. We move in the same circles. Hang at the same parties. His buds need me for drugs. I need them for cash. And between what we experienced in the basement and the stairwell, I can’t imagine he’ll be able to walk away from this.
Hell, I sure as fuck can’t.
I would never admit it, but damn. I thought I’d already had enough sex in my life to know how good it could get, but I was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
I ride my motorcycle to my supplier Jesse’s place.
I keep replaying that hot encounter in the stairwell over and over again in my head. How even when I accidentally came too soon, Mark lapped it up like it didn’t even matter. Like all he wanted was to have me inside him.
I park outside Jesse’s, alongside the street, where cars are packed in front of his place.
He’s obviously having a party. I make my way around to the back.
The pool is illuminated with a green light, but it’s too cold out for anyone to be in it.
A DJ blasts music from a tent on the far side of the pool, next to a bar.
A group congregates around the tent, dancing.
Beside the DJ tent, a couple of kids hold a guy upside down as he drinks from a tube attached to a keg on a stand.
Jesse’s parties are always little more than frat parties for those of us who didn’t opt for college.
I see Jesse in his usual location, sitting in the hot tub, his arms around girls on either side of him. They’re laughing at some joke he’s telling as I approach. I doubt they find him amusing. Figure they humor him in hopes that he can hook them up with some free drugs.
As Jesse spots me, I can tell by how his eyes light up that he’s been using his stash.
He hops up and runs through the water and gets out on the other side of the hot tub.
Grabbing a towel off the back of a chair at a nearby table, he rubs it across himself quickly.
Water drips from his neon green speedo down his legs.
He’s not the kind of guy who can get away with wearing a speedo, but no amount of discouragement from his buddies seems to work.
He runs his wet hand through his thinning blond hair, which I assume is expected now that he’s in his forties, maybe fifties—hard to tell with all the Botox his face is pumped full of.
“Babe, how’s it going?” he asks as he approaches.
He wraps an arm around me like I’m one of his sluts and guides me through the crowd, into the house. When we reach his bedroom, he shuts the door behind him.
“What you need?”
“Some coke, weed, hydrocodone. A little K wouldn’t kill me.”
He opens his closet and squats. Rolls of fat fold over the speedo. He unlocks a metal safe, and I give him cash for enough supplies to last me the rest of the week.
“Not exactly making money hand over fist this year, are we?” he says as I unzip my backpack and set it down beside him.
He counts my money before passing me bags from the safe.
I stuff the load into my bag. “Damn, this is turning out to be a shit year. Bunch of brats are more interested in scripts they can get from overseas pharmas than any of the regular shit. This was a lot easier five years ago.”
I’m making less than half as much as I was two years ago, so I know what he means, but at least it helps us get by.
“How’s your nanna, by the way?” he asks.
“Good. She doesn’t get CT scans for another month, but she’s recovered pretty well since the chemo.”
She was diagnosed last winter, and we fought through the spring with chemo and radiation. She’s just now able to get around after spending two months healing from the lingering effects of the intensive chemo regime she was on.
“Good to hear, good to hear, but I bet those bills are a real pain.”
“Yes, they are. Not something I need to be reminded of. I see them every fucking day.”
“Any scripts you need more of?” he asks as he inspects his stash.
“It wouldn’t kill me to have some extra Xanax and Adderall.”
“Of course not. I got some Provigil in here, too, so I’m going to load you up with that. You’re pitching it as the new Adderall, right? Best study drug on the market.”
“Of course.”
“Another thing they can nab online, though. How about I slide in a little bit of crystal and H?” he asks with a wink.
“Fuck you, Jesse. You know how I feel about that.”
“Dude, the money on this kid shit might get you by, but you do a few runs for me with some of the heavier stuff, and you can be making more than enough to deal with those hospital bills.”
“Not interested.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Market’s tougher than ever.
Kids can get some e-pharmacy to get them these scripts.
Can find someone else for weed or coke. They’re like the Advil of drugs.
Makes our job that much harder. The drugs I’m talking about are the most lucrative right now.
Things that aren’t getting tapped out in the market.
You know that’s why Roy moved to California. ”
Roy was the guy who got me into the business. Left two years ago, and he was smart to do it because that’s when things started going south with our usual circuit. Not to say there aren’t guys who’ll still pay for what I got. It’s just not the same.
“I’ll let you know when I need the money that bad, okay?”
“Fair enough, bud. I think you got a pretty good bit for now. Should last you through the night.” His eyes sparkle as he offers an amused expression.
In this market, it’ll last me the week, and he knows it.
I’m not big-time. Always done what I need so I can pay the bills, but even now, it’s a struggle.
Not horrible, but I’m used to a higher demand with my small niche of clientele.
“I’m just trying to get you in on a good game,” he says. “You know, David got arrested over in Buckhead for a DUI, so I have an opening for someone to run if you’re interested. Need someone I trust. And come on, don’t act like you couldn’t use a little break from those Emory asshats.”
“I can live with them. They’re manageable.”
I know for a fact some of these big guns Jesse works with are into some serious shit—gangs and prostitution—shit I’d rather keep out of.
“I’m not dying over here,” I say.
“I’ll bet,” he says with a smirk.
I head out to start working my beat. The usual frat houses.
I don’t take on a lot of new customers. Work off referrals who are real desperate.
I’m not interested in noobs who could end up ratting me out.
If someone wants to get some for a friend, that’s on them, but I play it safe.
I’ve heard too many stories, and I’m not interested in waking up in a jail cell, waiting to get five to life.
I’ve learned from the other guys I’ve worked with over the years that it’s when you start getting greedy that you get careless and wind up having the ATF knock your door in.
After I finish up with the frats, I move on to some of my other stops—a couple of kids with way too much money and their own network of interested parties.
The door to Brody Winters’s house opens. A girl beams at me with vibrant blue eyes.
“Well, hello there.”
“Hi.”
I couldn’t sound more disinterested if I tried, but I can tell by the look in her eyes she’s not discouraged.
With long dark hair, her caramel-tanned flesh exposed in the tank top she wears, she looks like the usual sort Brody invites over to surround himself by—girls he can potentially fuck.
“Brody here?” I ask.
She tilts her head back. An invitation.
I follow her into the house.
“Oh, Brody,” she sings. “You have a guest.”
She leads me into the kitchen.
Brody’s thick biceps flex in the green thermal he wears, and he’s gotten a buzzed haircut since I saw him last week.
He retrieves a pan of brownies from the oven and sets it on top of the stove.
He turns, his smile matching the girls’.
It’s the look I get from most of my regulars.
Even in their most doped-out state, they typically seem enthusiastic to see the person who can hook them up with new realms of excitement.
“Hey, Tim. How’s it going?” he asks.
He removes the oven mittens he wears and sets them on the counter as the girl grabs a red Solo cup off the counter next to him.
Since there are a few other people in the kitchen, he pulls me into the bedroom for our usual transaction.
“You wanna stick around for a drink?” he asks.
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on. Just stick around for a bit.”
I’ve heard this most of the night. Everyone wants to be chummy with me since they know I’m their hookup.
And I don’t discourage it. I’ll hang out.
Chill. Even offer some samples if I’m having a good time.
It’s good customer relations, which I need right now considering I’m losing clients, or at least the usual big orders, left and right.
“For a minute,” I say.
He guides me into the backyard.
A bunch of kids sit around, their faces glowing orange from a bonfire, as they enjoy the fire and a couple of six-packs.
On a couch on the other side of the fire, I notice Mark sitting beside Jeffery Wells, who has his arm around him.
A tall guy with a conceited grin he’s always displaying everywhere he goes, he’s the sort of frat kid I expect Mark to be attracted to.
A lot like Greg. That same beefy body—stacked with muscles.
He plays for the school’s volleyball team.
I’m not sure about his family, but likely they’re within the vicinity of Mark’s family’s income bracket.
He wears a hoodie, his arm slung around Mark so if my little fuck of the week turns, his face will be right in the guy’s armpit.
The aloof expression on Jeffery’s face suggests he’s too drunk to care about whether or not Mark is interested, and it’s obvious Mark isn’t, considering he looks everywhere but at this asshole.
Now I’m definitely going to stick around for a bit.