I watched Bob look at his watch and decide something. “I’ve got to get back to San Berdoo. I have some other business to take care of. Paul, could you go get that package B.J. threw on that boat?”
Paul got up and grabbed a flashlight and I told him exactly where I saw the package land.
I felt Paul’s footsteps rock the boat as he got off.
Bob looked me right in the eyes and said, “B.J. I’ve got a good feeling about you. But I’ve got to tell you, your partner Paul seems to be riding the fence with you.”
Bob grabbed a pen on the table and wrote down a number and handed it to me. “You’re in the car. Call me if you need anything.”
I felt the boat bounce and sway from Paul’s return and watched him climb back down into the cabin and hand Bob the Tupperware container. I got my little bit back and watched Bob cut through the duct tape. He dumped a big pile of speed on the table and used his I.D. and separated a pile to the side.
He slid it towards me and I realized he was giving it to me. “This is for saving our butts tonight. That’s an eye balled half an ounce. I’m going to tell my partners what you did, and what you’re proposing to see how they want to work things out.”
I looked at my free half ounce and was overwhelmed with gratitude. I put it away and glanced at Paul. He didn’t look like he liked it. The benefits that were supposed to go his way were coming to me immediately. I didn’t know what to do so I hugged Bob roughly and lifted him off the ground easily and set him back down. “Thanks for the hook up, it’s very appreciated!”
I looked at Bob and he looked shocked by my display of emotions.
Paul explained his take on it. “It’s the Italian side of his family. His grandfather was a loving gangster from the old days.”
Bob smiled and said, “It’s making sense now. What was your grandfather’s name?”
I responded, “Pistol Pete Cardarastelli.”
Bob asked, “Was he one of those mustache Pete’s from Sicily?”
I nodded my head, happy with the camaraderie we had going.
Paul broke into the Moment with a shocked outburst. “This shit is still wet Bob!”
I looked at Paul leaning over the table and the product. He had his I.D. and was sifting through the pile of speed. I leaned over to get a good look and the rancid odor fumed right into my face. It was so strong I guessed that it had just been cooked. It did look a little moist.
I watched Paul go into a cabinet and come out with a bunch of brown grocery bags. He ripped one open and dumped all of the speed on it. He spread the pile around and we could all see the moisture on the brown bag.
Paul said, “If this is supposed to be a half a pound, it’s going to lose an ounce and a half by the time it’s dry! I don’t know if I even want this shit. It’s on the border.”
I watched Paul grab a diamond sized shard from the pile and drop it on the mirror to have a look at it. He grabbed a magnifying glass out of a drawer and began his examination.
While he did that I did my own examination with the pile Bob gave me. I chopped up some healthy lines and snorted one. It was moist, it hurt in that burning way and felt like some of it was still caked inside my nose. Then I felt the effect. My mind started to sharpen and I realized I had to figure out what my part would be in this dilemma we were in. As I thought about it I realized my teeth were clamped shut and laughed at myself for being such a chiseler.
I handed the other two lines to Paul and Bob to inhale and they did.
While they were doing it, I looked at the shard Paul had on the mirror and picked up his magnifying glass. The shard looked like a canary diamond. It was yellowish and clear at the same time. I snorted the first issue of drip from my line and said, “This shit is strong! But it is a little wet.”
I looked at Bob’s face and saw how frustrated he was. He looked so pissed, it looked like he was having trouble articulating words.
Bob found his voice, “That shit is the lemon drop. It’s better than any of the shit you’ve been getting from me. It’s not going to lose an ounce and a half of weight either!”
Paul shot back, “I know what I’m talking about! I bought some shit just like this from a cook in Oceanside, it lost five grams on every ounce.”
I watched Paul do the math on that prediction and come back with the answer. “On eight ounces, that’s 40 grams, 2 grams under an ounce and a half!”
I looked at Bob and it looked like he was going to pop with frustration. He exploded, “Paul are you going to tell me how dope gets cooked? I’m the freaking cook! Yeah it will lose a little weight if you don’t sell it fast enough, but not 5 grams an ounce! More like a couple grams at the most… I’ve got to get $4,000 for that half pound minus the half ounce I’m eating I gave B.J… I was supposed to bring back $4,400 like I told you on the phone!
I looked at Paul and realized what a grindy business man he was. He didn’t look like he was going to bend. I imagined he might be thinking he had the upper hand on this negotiation because he knew Bob didn’t want to drive back with the product all the way to San Bernardino minus the half ounce he gave me.
I looked at Bob and he didn’t want to bend either. Then they both turned and looked at me.
I grabbed the rest of Paul’s brown bags and asked Bob, “Do you want me to dump it all in another bag to see if it pulls more moisture off the product? Then we can keep transferring it until we’re out of bags and then put a fan on it.”
Bob nodded his head that was okay and said, “Just be careful not to break it up to much. You don’t want it getting powdery. Buyers like seeing the shards.”
While we worked, Bob asked Paul, “Do you have your scale on you?”
Paul checked his pockets and said, “I left it in the Mustang. I’ll go get it.”
As soon as Paul left Bob said, “Your partner was supposed to meet me off the 91 freeway at the halfway point between here and San Berdoo. I’ve got to call my partner Ricky to tell him what’s going on and why I’m so late.”
I watched Bob walk out of the cabin and looked at the pile of speed he was leaving me with that was already in question. I didn’t want the dope to weigh up any lighter than Bob expected it to and then have him wonder if leaving me behind had anything to do with it so I followed him.
On the deck I couldn’t help but listen to Bob talk to Ricky and I felt nosy. I stepped off the boat and walked to the halfway point between Paul’s boat and Paul at his Mustang rooting through his trunk. I realized that there was never a comfortable feeling doing this speed business. That line I had just snorted of the new lemon drop made me feel like I was glowing. I looked at my watch and to my astonishment it was 3 a.m. Where does the time go on this shit?
I watched Paul walk toward me. He was taking furtive glances my way to see what I was doing standing there. As he got to me he said, “I was trying to get him to meet you tonight, but I had to get his okay first.”
I just said, “I understand.”
I could tell that Paul didn’t expect it to be that easy and getting on the boat he said, “You’re a trip.”
Inside the boat we got everything straightened out just as the sun was coming up. I was starting to come down and had to wonder if that new flavor of speed was all that good. Then I thought about the amount of sleep I’d gotten during the week, about the equivalent of two hours a night. Plus the night had been intense. That always seemed to drop the energy level afterward. We came up with an exit strategy for Bob to follow us home on his way to the freeway so he could cover our tail since we were carrying the mother lode. I would pick up my truck later.
In the Mustang I thought about my grand plans. We covered a lot of ground trying to get there but I had to face what kind of business I was in. Could I possibly get Paul in a mechanic shop this way? If I gave up on the idea, I’d have to face reality and there was no way I wanted to do that!
CHAPTER 59
Bob got on the 91 freeway heading east to San Bernardino and rehearsed what he planned t
o tell Ricky and Tony. Even to his own ears, what happened on Paul’s boat with B.J. coming out of nowhere in time to warn them of the Harbor Patrol, sounded contrived. He thought about the meeting with Ricky so deeply, he imagined the exact spot in Ricky’s grandparents house Ricky would be sitting for the meeting. Bob laughed to himself that it was more like Ricky’s house now that his grandparents were in a home for the elderly. Bob thought, Ricky will probably be at the head of that long dinner table looking like the aggressive shark he is. Bob pictured his dark hair combed straight back over his chiseled angular face, the prominent chin with the deep scar on it, those dark penetrating eyes that were always so alert they seemed to always push others beneath him, sitting there at the head of the table like a boss. Bob even pictured what Ricky would be wearing; that tight black silk shirt that stretched over his body-builder like cut up muscles. Or his black, Dickie button down dress shirt he liked to have buttoned at the collar only, so the rest of the shirt flew open and exposed how shredded his chest and stomach were for more dominance. Then Bob pictured Ricky’s older brother positioned at the table just beneath Ricky on his right. He thought about how Tony was just as good looking and just as built from weights and diligent nutrition, but that’s where it ended. Tony’s personality was more refined and cautious, rather than try to dominate, he was content to observe and be overlooked. He’d probably be wearing something more conservative and probably wouldn’t do much talking. Bob thought about Ricky’s cousin Ernie who was sure to be at the table also. Bob wondered, why does Ricky put up with Ernie? He’s always fucking things up. We’ve trained him how to manufacture the product over and over and he always ruins thousands of dollars worth of product by doing it wrong. Bob thought, it’s probably because Ernie is so faithful and comfortable taking Ricky’s orders and running any errand asked of him. Then Bob thought about how things with Ricky seemed to be changing lately. Ricky had been calling meetings while I’m busy manufacturing the product. It feels like things are happening behind my back that I’m not privy to anymore. Maybe I just need more sleep and I’m imagining it all.
Bob pulled up and parked and saw Ernie look out the window for a second. Ernie opened the front door and Bob saw exactly what he’d just imagined. Ricky was at the head of the table in that button down Dickie shirt with the top button buttoned! Tony was on his right just below him at the table and Ernie sat in a chair down below Ricky on his left!
Bob saw the only chair left put him at the bottom of the table and he sat down and looked at Ricky. Ricky looked refreshed, wired up on speed and angry! Bob thought, I’m tired, I can’t even remember how to explain what happened…
Ricky waited there patiently for what seemed like a long time but was only a minute and said, “Give me the money.”
Bob pulled out $3,500 and handed it over. He patted his other pocket and felt the other $400 he had and thought, I’m the one who made that dope Paul bought and I was supposed to make $500. Ricky was supposed to get $3,900.
Bob watched Ricky count the money quickly. As soon as he was done his face flew up and asked, “Where’s the rest of it?”
Bob explained the story in as much clear detail as possible and in a Moment of clarity, realized Ricky was getting dangerously angry hearing how B.J. was getting so much support. Bob continued to tell the story as it happened and saw Tony was visibly impressed hearing about the cliff and the binoculars. Ricky on the other hand looked like those kinds of honors were only supposed to go his way. Bob watched Ricky’s face darken with what looked like pure hate.
Ricky’s voice reflected that hate. “You blew it Bob. You straight up fucked up!”
Bob stood up from the table and threw his hands in the air. “What did you want me to do, drive back with it?”
Ricky snapped back, “That’s exactly what you should have done! Ernie had that shit sold for the $4,400 you were supposed to get.; didn’t you Ernie.”
Bob looked at Ricky’s cousin nodding his head like a loyal parrot.
“I had it sold in Felony Flats.”
Bob thought about that statement. It sounded rehearsed. He realized there wasn’t any way to disprove it and he didn’t even know if he wanted to if he could. Ricky looked ready to explode. I’ll just let him have this one and count on his conscience reminding him of how far we go back and how loyal I’ve been.
Bob looked at Ricky, Tony and Ernie staring at him and thought back a few years. He remembered how a few years ago Ricky took someone on who turned out to be a problem in Ricky’s eyes. Ricky had him lured into a strip club and had him stabbed to death. A few days later we found out the feds were on their way to investigate the possible disappearance and information was leading them right to the club. Bob remembered how he followed Ricky’s instructions. How he had leaked the most flammable kerosene known to man all over the area the blood had saturated. It ended up burning the whole club down, no evidence. Ricky had been so grateful. He’ll remember and make it up to me.
Ricky broke the silence. “You know we need all the money we can get for the drum set!!”
Bob thought about the drum set. He must be talking about the 55 gallon drums the chemicals come in to manufacture the speed. Bob thought about how he had been doing all of the work lately. I’ve been the one in the kitchen doing the manufacturing, one batch after another, while Ricky held his meetings, keeping me out of the loop on what those meetings were even about.
Bob reached into his other pocket and pulled out the $400. He slid it toward Ricky and said, “That’s all the money I have to my name and remember I was supposed to get $500 for making that shit in the first place!”
Bob thought, Ricky will give me that $400 back!
Ricky scooped up the cash and put it in his pocket and that hateful look on his face returned. He looked at his watch and looked back and snapped what sounded like an order.
“Take that Chevy truck back to Tim in the Canyon. He’s been calling all night asking for his truck back. I had Ernie leave enough chemicals to make a pound of dope and we need that done A.S.A.P.. We already have another buyer for it and we need that cash for the drum set to take care of that Alabama account we came up on!”
Bob thought about what little he knew about the Alabama account. Ricky had met the representative from Alabama who went by Tiny. Ricky had said, “The guy is the opposite of tiny, he’s almost seven feet tall and he can move 50 pounds of speed a week through four or five states. We have to be able to give him what he needs before he goes somewhere else for the dope and we lose the opportunity to get rich!”
Ricky thought about Tiny’s account and the $100,000 he imagined making a week. He looked right at Bob and said, “We need you to step it up a notch Bob. You’re going to have to live in the kitchen making our dope until we can get Tiny off and running. Then we’ll take a break and go to Vegas and rinse the money and buy some toys to celebrate.”
Bob watched Ricky shake everyone’s hand and head for the front door and say, “I’ve got to go handle some important business. I’ll check in with you, Bob, in a few hours.”
Bob looked at Tony and Ernie sitting there staring at him like they were in charge of enforcing Ricky’s order. Bob thought, this change in atmosphere has to be from the Alabama account, but why am I the one getting niggard! I’m the most integral component to this organization… Besides Ricky… And maybe Tony… All these years of loyalty and I have to look at Ernie sitting there like he’s in charge of me.
“What the fuck is going on Tony?”
Bob watched Tony and Ernie look at each other to decide something. Ernie tapped his watch like Ricky had done and said, “You heard what Ricky said, he needs you in the Canyon like an hour ago!”
Bob thought, “fuck this” and snapped, “Check this out Ernie, you’re a fucking knack! You can’t even wipe your own ass without directions! How many times have you fucked up thousands of dollars by blowing up our batches of speed? I lost count. I’m not taking orders from you!”
Bob and Tony watched Erni
e look confused and decide not to make an issue out of it. Instead he looked at his watch again and then looked up and said in a meek voice, “You heard what Ricky ordered.”
Bob watched Tony take over and pat Ernie on the shoulder and say, “Don’t worry about Bob. I’ve got to talk to him anyway. Why don’t you go do what Ricky told you to do.”
Ernie walked out the door and Bob told Tony, “Ricky left me penniless. I’m not going to the Canyon until I get laid and go out and collect some money I’m owed so I can eat! I think I’ll go to Lisa’s house and try to kill two birds with one stone.”
Bob looked into Tony’s eyes to see if his defiance produced the same hate Ricky had in his eyes. Tony’s eyes looked sad, he said, “Bob, I’ve got to talk to you. I’m going to the backyard to make a phone call first. Give me five minutes and meet me back there.”
CHAPTER 60
Bob opened the sliding glass window to the back yard and saw Tony with his back to him in the corner of the backyard looking over the fence at Highland Blvd.
Tony stood there thinking, what can I even tell Bob? What if he reacts to the truth and tells Ricky I told him? How do I tell him about the long ago mafia issues that are sure to resurface now that Ricky is doing business with Mark Argenta? I have to tell him.
Bob looked over the fence with Tony. The boulevard and shopping center across the street brought back a flood of childhood memories of he, Ricky and Tony running around together. After a few minutes of solitude waiting for Tony to talk, Bob asked, “What’s going on Tony? Something is definitely not right with Ricky… Or you and Ernie.”
Tony thought about all of the pieces involved. Mark Argenta brought us to Tiny, in charge of the multistate southeastern belt that started with Alabama and went through Tennessee, Florida and Georgia. He thought about all of the homework he and Ricky had done on it and still had a hard time believing Ricky was willing to take the risk. Tiny had recently stepped into the multi-state account after Yogi, the guy who had the four-state account before him was gunned down by the police. Tony thought about the homework that explained the details surrounding Yogi’s downfall and how Yogi was a runner for a drug cartel operation from Michoacán, Mexico. The same cartel that had it out for Mark Argenta for all these years…
ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) Page 19
