by Sera, Drew
“Did you guys help him when he came back to the room?”
When he came back?
“He never came back.”
I focused on the dirt path and didn’t look up.
“Wes—”
“A few days later, two new sticks appeared by the tree closest to the decking...then sometime later two bronze plates were bolted to the deck. One said IA6…the other CB5.”
“Wes.”
I kept walking, and when Martin put his hand on my arm to stop me, I yanked it away from him and turned to look at him.
“Wes, mate. Stop for a minute.”
I turned and began running as fast as I could and ignored him calling my name. Martin was trying to catch up, and it didn’t take him long before he was right next to me. He was faster and in better shape than I was. It was no use to try to outrun him and where was I running to anyhow? I slowed down, and when I stopped, I felt the bile coming up. I turned away from Martin just in time to double over and throw up.
“Wes, just be still, mate.”
Martin crouched down beside me while I continued throwing up. I felt terrible. Why did I tell him any of that?
“It’s okay, Wes. Get it out, mate.”
I didn’t try to fight the urge to throw up again, and when I felt like it was all out, I leaned back and looked upward. I was still trying to catch my breath.
“I’m okay. Sorry, Martin.”
He shook his head at me and gave my shoulder a pat. I let Martin help me up, and instead of going forward in the direction we had been going, he turned me around to face the direction we had come from.
“Let’s go home, Wes. You need to hydrate.”
We walked quietly back to the house, and I was worried he’d tell Thom.
“Martin, you’re not going to tell Thom, right?”
“Wes, I promised you that I wouldn’t. I won’t go back on my word. You have to trust me, mate.”
I did trust him. More than anyone.
11
Wes
November 2009
Customers were waiting as I cleaned the bakery table as quickly as I could. Van Doorn’s Bakery had a lot of regulars that came in everyday and they always left with a smile.
Over the year that I’d been working here after school and on the weekends, I noticed that many people often asked for Thom, Dean, or Mason. The customers would talk off to the side with them for a few minutes and then they’d be presented with a small bakery box before leaving. I had never seen those sized boxes used for anything else, and it appeared that only Thom, Dean or Mason handled them. They were about the size of ring boxes and made of cardboard.
Two customers had just left the bakery with the small mystery box, and my curiosity finally forced me to ask Martin. We were both cleaning tables, and I quietly asked him about the boxes.
“Not now, mate. The bakery is busy now. We can talk later about it,” Martin said.
He smiled and raised his eyebrows, insinuating that I’d enjoy the talk. As the crowd dwindled, I was able to slow my pace a bit. I was wiping down a table when an older gentleman summonsed me.
“Kid, son, come here,” he said as he looked right at me.
“I’ve seen you in here a lot. Are you a son of a family friend to the Van Doorns?”
I shook my head as I smiled, remembering when I officially became a member of the Van Doorns.
I had taken my sandwich and a baguette out to the alley for my break. Thom said I was always welcome to eat in the break room, but Mason said something to me one day, and it always stuck with me.
“True Van Doorns eat in the break room, Wes. Take your food to the alley where you came from,” Mason said after I had been working at the bakery for a few weeks.
When Thom caught wind of it through Kyler, he was pissed. Mason apologized, but ever since then, I’d felt that I wasn’t really a part of the family, or that he didn’t consider me as part of the family. I’d try to find ways to prove myself to Mason.
So, the alley was where I went for my breaks. And it wasn’t because I was scared of Mason, but this was something positive for me. I used to sit under the stairs or by the dumpster and now I was a part of the bakery.
While I ate on the stairs, the door to the bakery opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Thom. In his hands, he held some papers and sat down beside me.
“Taking a break, Wes?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I just came out. Is it getting busy inside?” I asked as I started to stand. “I can go in and come back when it’s not crowded—”
“No, Wes. It’s fine, sit back down. I want to talk to you.”
I tried to think of what I might be in trouble for.
“I know you’re supposed to work tomorrow afternoon, but you and I have an appointment somewhere,” he said.
My mind had drawn a blank. I couldn’t recall an appointment we had. He handed me a piece of paper, and I glossed over it. It wasn’t making sense to me.
“I’m proud of you, Wes. You’ve done so much in the past year. You went from a terrible childhood and living on the streets to being an honor student. I want to officially adopt you into the family. What do you think?”
I kept trying to blink away the tears as I looked over the formal hearing for adoption. He wanted to make me his son by law. I swallowed hard and thought I had myself under control until he handed me a new name tag for the bakery…Wes Van Doorn.
I was crumbling like a leaf. A family. I was really part of a family. He hugged me and said, “Now you can stop looking like you want to murder me when I call you ‘son.’”
“No, sir. Mr. Van Doorn adopted me,” I proudly said.
I stood up straighter and showed him my name tag that read, “Wes Van Doorn.”
“Ah,” the man said with a smile and nodded. “Well then, young Van Doorn, here’s my money. Can you bring me three?”
Three? Three, what?
I didn’t handle money in the bakery yet, but I knew enough that his coffee and roll wouldn’t cost the eighty euros he had placed on the table. I looked around for one of my brothers or Uncle Dean.
“Wes,” the older man said my name.
“Sir?”
“You’ve got Van Doorn on your name tag, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you cash me out and bring me three before the end of the day?”
The older man pushed the money toward me, and I held up my index finger and told him I’d be right back. I found Mason behind the counter, and when he finished cashing out a patron, I told him about the customer in the booth.
“I’ll take care of him, thanks, Shadow.”
Mason hurried over and collected the money from the man and jogged back behind the counter where I was at. He cashed in the money, took some coin change from the register and then went to the back. He returned carrying one of the small pastry boxes and gave it along with the change to the man. Mason came back, business as usual.
What the hell was all of that about?
That evening as Martin and I were jogging along the creek I decided to ask him about the boxes again.
“Ecstasy,” Martin panted.
That was it, just one word.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve heard of it, right? Fuck, I guess you may have even tried some from school.”
Suddenly, Martin stopped jogging and put his hands on his hips to catch his breath.
“Actually, you better not be trying that shit at school. God only knows what’s in it. Our stuff is the only thing you can trust.”
I stared at him as if he had grown two heads.
“I take it that Dad hasn’t had that talk with you yet?” he asked.
“Martin, no. Are you saying those pastry boxes contain ecstasy?”
“Yep. Van Doorn’s specialty. We’ve been doing it since the bakery doors opened back in 1927 by my great, great grandfather.”
Martin thumped me in the arm, and we started jogging again.
&n
bsp; “What is it, exactly? The ecstasy, I mean.”
“It’s a wonderful little tablet. It keeps you from getting tired or hungry. It also makes sex feel way better.”
We jogged some more as I thought of questions. Was it wrong that the main question on my mind wasn’t about how or why my family was selling drugs, but about how the pill made sex better?
“How does it make sex better?”
“It increases sensitivity and pleasure.”
My mind was racing. My family sold drugs in the bakery. I started laughing, and Martin smiled.
“I don’t even know what to think, Martin. This is wild.”
“You want wild? I’ll get us a couple, and we’ll go down to the Red Light District and do a little window shopping. You can take one and then get your first pussy. Sixteen is the legal age to visit the district, Wes.”
We were quiet for the rest of our jog, but I still had so much on my mind. Martin encouraged me to talk to Dad about it, and I was curious enough that I just might do that.
When we got back to the house, Dad, Uncle Dean, and Mason were sitting in the living room talking. They looked at us when I shut the door quietly as to not disturb their conversation.
“Wes, why don’t you join us, son. I think we should talk,” Dad said.
Martin thumped me in the shoulder and headed toward the stairs. I nodded and sat down on the couch beside Mason.
“Mason told us about your questions regarding the pastry boxes.” I swallowed hard and nodded. “As Van Doorns, we are bound to tradition. My great-grandfather was a chemist and owned a lab where ecstasy was made. Ecstasy back then was a brand-new pharmaceutical that was intended to help patients with certain issues. It’s a stimulant and lowers inhibitions. Being the greedy Van Doorn that he was and trying to capitalize on the market, he opened the bakery in 1927 and began selling it to patrons,” Dad explained.
“Isn’t it illegal?” I asked.
Mason shifted nervously in his seat beside me as our dad stood and began pacing.
“Possession with the intent to distribute is illegal, but the average person can have one to three tablets on them without issue.”
That didn’t seem too bad; one to three tablets seemed harmless. Wait…he said possession with the intent to distribute was illegal.
“Wes, the bakery sells three tablets max to a customer each day,” Dean said calmly.
“That’s why there are so many regulars, huh?” I was piecing things together. “But…we distribute.” I cautiously said.
“That’s right, Wes,” Dad confirmed my assumption on the regulars. “That’s what we do. That is what our family has done since 1927,” Dad said as he looked at me.
“And it’s what our family will continue to do, Wes,” Mason added. “We’re not violent. We don’t even own guns.”
When Mason added the part about not being violent and not owning a gun, I flinched because I remembered so clearly how I stumbled onto my family. Dean most certainly has or had a gun. I looked at our dad and uncle and noticed they were looking at one another. I was sure they were thinking of that night as well.
“Mason, Wesley is part of this family. Period,” Dad said.
“And I won’t do anything to jeopardize it,” I confirmed and looked at Mason. “I want to be part of it and the business.”
“Wes, in due time. You’re not out of school yet. When you graduate, we will talk about it. Until then, I don’t want to hear any rumblings from you about it. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go get cleaned up for dinner, son.”
While I took a shower, I couldn’t help but think of how crazy this was. My family was one of those underground families like in the movies. The dinner conversation was truly interesting.
“Who is taking me to the airport tomorrow?” Uncle Dean asked.
“Where are you going, Uncle Dean?” I asked.
“Good old US of A. Boston specifically. I’m going to meet with a couple of potential clients,” he said as he ate.
After dinner when Martin and I were both in our room, he asked me what I was thinking.
“Well, it’s just wild. But, I’ve always wanted a family and a family that sticks together. They have each other’s backs. I just had no idea it was that kind of family.” Martin laughed, and I added, “I’m happy to be part of it.”
“So, tomorrow is Friday. Are you feeling up for a few firsts? Friday night window shopping is the best after popping a tablet,” Martin said.
I nodded. Why not? After all, it’s the family business.
* * *
I sat nervously next to Martin on the metro to the Red Light District. He checked his watch and then pulled out a small parchment envelope from his pocket.
“Hold out your hand, Wes.”
I offered up my hand, and Martin poured out the two pink tablets from the envelope. He popped one tablet into his mouth and took a sip of water from his bottle before passing the bottle to me. I took the tablet and sat still for the rest of the ride.
Last night, Martin had explained that it takes about thirty to forty-five minutes for it to hit his system and he estimated about the same for me. He said it would make me less nervous about sex.
“Little bro’s going to be a man on the way home tonight,” Martin playfully punched me in the arm. He flung his arm around my shoulder and jostled me. “It’ll be fine, Wes. Relax, mate.” I nodded. “Any idea what you’re looking for tonight?” Martin asked.
“No, not really. I mean, I know how it works in the district. I’ve watched guys negotiate with the windows and screens. But I haven’t given it much thought as to my fantasy woman.”
“Come on, mate. I’ve heard you wanking in the bathroom before and even when you think I’m sleeping.” I couldn’t hide my embarrassment. “Wes,” he shook me again as he said my name. “It’s ok, mate. Every guy does it. But there’s got to be some kind of woman in your mind when you’re doing it.”
I thought about it, and I always picture a little brunette. Maybe dark brown hair. That’s different than the usual blondes or light brown-haired women in Amsterdam. Blonde and light brown hair was very prevalent.
“A brunette. Dark brown hair, maybe.”
“Okay, good, Wes. There will be lots of blondes, but there are also brunettes. We can find you one.”
I nodded and looked out the window until we came to a stop. Martin nudged my leg and then stood.
“Let’s go have some fun, mate.”
We walked the short distance from the drop off toward the crowded area where red lights glowed from windows. I was watching a few women in the window when Martin bumped my arm. I looked down to find him thrusting money at me.
“Here, mate. It’s enough for an hour.” I nodded as I took it from him and pocketed the money. Martin looked at his watch and smiled. “Feeling okay?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
“I guess.” I shrugged. “I don’t feel any different.”
Martin patted my face and then curved his hand around the nape of my neck.
“You will, trust me.”
Every few windows we’d pass, Martin would stop and look at me if they were brunette. I’d shake him off because some of these women were just downright intimidating. Eventually, I stopped and gazed at a gorgeous brunette as she strolled the length of the window.
I felt my dick twitch as my eyes followed her hips swaying from side to side. Her tits were large but not too large that I couldn’t grasp in one hand. This was the one.
“Her, mate?” Martin asked.
I turned my head to look at him and nodded. A huge smile spread across his face as he laughed.
“Go on, have fun, Wes. I’m going to get a quick blowjob and then I’ll be back here.”
I nodded again and moved toward the window. As I approached, the brunette beauty sauntered to the window screen.
“Looking for some company?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“How long would y
ou like my company?”
“An hour, please.”
I held up my money like a pro and as if I’ve been doing this for years. She smiled and motioned me up the steps. I pulled open the screen door and stayed in the entryway until she came out from the window box. I held my money out, and before she took it, she asked me to confirm that I was at least sixteen.
We made it to a room, and she pointed out her license and health certification. Next to her license and certification was a bowl containing packages of condoms.
“So, what are you in the mood for, young man?”
What the hell was I in the mood for?
Being my first time, I really had nothing to go off of. Martin and I had watched lots of porn, but I was totally drawing a blank as to what I wanted. I noticed that I was painfully erect and needed to get some relief.
“Just make me feel good, please,” I said.
“I can do that. You can call me Annie. I’ll give you something you can tell all your friends about.”
She knelt in front of me, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants then pulled my throbbing erection from my boxers. I looked down and had been surprised by how swollen and purple the head of my dick was before she took it into her mouth. She worked feverishly on my cock as I leaned against the wall of the room. In one hand, Annie squeezed and kneaded my balls while her other hand was under my shirt alternating pinching my nipples.
“Mmm,” I moaned.
Her laughter vibrated around my cock, and I almost came. Everything she did felt incredible. I’d had a few blowjobs from girls after school, and none of them felt this fantastic. Her fingertips lightly stroked my balls in a downward motion and then she squeezed my sac again. I was overly sensitive to her touch right now. Was this from the tablet?
Annie withdrew my cock from her mouth and looked up at me.
“Feel good?”
“Yeah. It feels marvelous,” I panted.
“Get on the bed, honey,” Annie breathed.
