“Yeah, I get it. What are laws anyway? Just rules some old white dude wrote down.”
“Yeah.” Robin clenched her fists.
“But you and I happen to agree with most laws.” I kept my tone even.
Robin rolled her eyes. “I’m quite aware of what I believe, thank you.”
“I’ve been having this conversation with myself for a long time,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Morality. Laws. Whatever. I’ve been thinking a lot.”
Robin laughed. “Did prison scare you straight?”
“Jail.” I raised an eyebrow. “And, no. Before that. Since I started dealing.”
“Seems like something you’ve been questioning for a decade might not be worth pursuing.” She was gentle, but it was hard for that not to sting.
“But I haven’t exactly been debating if it’s wrong. It’s more like I’ve been debating what wrong is. I haven’t figured that out yet. How do I know that what I do is wrong if I don’t know what wrong is?” I asked. Robin was staring at me like I’d lost my goddamn mind. “Okay, back up. I know what wrong is, but think about it. We only know what’s wrong situationally. Like each action dictates the potential wrong.”
“True.” She said it real slow. “At work, I’ve taken various oaths to guide my behavior. I want to preserve life. That’s why I’m a nurse.”
“When you drive, you don’t want to kill people so you follow laws.”
“We don’t want to kill people because taking life is wrong.”
“Is it?” I asked. Then I laughed. Robin definitely thought I’d lost it. “I don’t kill people because the punishment is high. And because I don’t want the guilt of having taken a life. That’s about me. Not them. Not their potential. Not morals. Maybe it wouldn’t bother me. Maybe it would. Testing the theory has a cost that’s too high. So I don’t kill people. Why don’t you kill people?”
She started blinking at me again. “Isn’t it too early for you to be this philosophical?”
“Never.” I smiled and felt wicked.
“You are strange.”
“And you love me.”
Robin put her hand over mine. “I do.”
Chapter Three
The original Dessert Diner had been on K Street in a narrow, dingy building. It didn’t need to be retro; it was vintage. Cracked pink vinyl. Chipped gray Formica. The pink neon sign was actually neon. They were open as late as the bars. Every kid in a thirty-mile radius had ended up there at some point on prom night.
But then the rent tripled and they moved.
Now it was bright white lights. Shiny red vinyl booths. New white Formica tables. Everything seemed clean. It was blinding at midnight. But at two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, it was whitewashed, glaring. I had never been in during daylight hours and I vowed I never would be again.
Instead of intoxicated twenty-year-olds, the patrons were suburban family types in the big city for an outing. Toddlers inhaled handfuls of sugar. Kids screeched and sprinted. And parents watched their offspring’s displays with what appeared to be affection and joy.
Reyes was tucked in a booth at the back. There were two cups of coffee in front of him. He looked out of place, but content until a kid screeched. His jaw tightened. His knuckles went pale. Good. He was regretting this venue too.
I slid into the booth across from him. “This is atrocious.”
Reyes nodded. “I’ll make this quick. The statement you emailed looks fine. Kallen is processing it right now.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I’ve never been one for tact.” He sighed. “Can I just ask you some questions and we will pretend I was subtle?”
“Depends. How serious are you about that?”
He grimaced. “Pretty serious. My partner does our undercover work for a reason. I’m better with straightforward. She says I need to work on it.”
I laughed. He was being serious. “How about this. I will swear up and down that we had a conversation and whatever subject you want to discuss happened to come up of its own volition.”
“Great.” Reyes was genuinely excited at that prospect.
“If you answer some of my questions.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah, you hmm that.” I slid out of the booth and grabbed my mug. “I’m switching this for iced coffee. It’s two hundred degrees outside. Why would you order two-hundred-degree coffee?”
Reyes shrugged and waved me off. When I returned with a glass of cold, black coffee Reyes had a notebook and a pen out on the table.
“I’ll answer your questions, but I also reserve the right to not answer.”
“That’s vague.” I scooted back into the booth.
“Just don’t ask me something compromising,” he said
That was still vague. “Fine.”
Another kid screamed at a pitch I didn’t know was possible. Reyes and I both jumped and looked. The little darling was standing three feet from our table. He was wearing damp swim trunks and a fedora. Apparently, he had discovered the neon-ringed clock on the wall. It was delightful. Just like him.
Reyes shook himself. “You were saying something.”
“Oh, yeah. Questions. You go first.”
“Fentanyl. What do you know about it?” he asked.
“Synthetic opioid. Potent, but volatile as hell. You want to narrow that question down?”
“Do you deal it?”
“Detective Reyes, I don’t deal any drugs.” I fought the urge to grin at him.
He grunted. “Have you ever sold fentanyl?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I like my customers alive. They buy more product that way.”
His mouth set into a hard, straight line. “Who does deal it?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. Jerome St. Maris might. He’s been moving in on my customers. And he doesn’t mind if people die.”
“And that answer has nothing to do with the fact that he’s your rival?”
“Jason Warren is a possibility. But he’s sitting in County right now. Danny Cicero or Christi Jerod, but I’m guessing they already are on your list.”
Reyes smirked. I had no compunction about giving these guys up. I knew the cops were already interested in them. Including their names didn’t damage my compatriots at all. It did, however, make me look very cooperative.
“Can you give me something viable to look at?” Reyes sounded skeptical. It seemed he had realized that my compliance wasn’t quantifiable.
“Honestly, that’s all I got.” And it was. “Fentanyl isn’t common enough to warrant a market. If someone is building a business around it, they’re new. I’ll ask Nate. He’s up on trends more than I am.”
He wrote some notes. “What about someone selling counterfeit pills?”
“Like placebos?”
“No, like claiming a pill is Oxy, but really it’s a cocktail that mimics Oxy.”
“Sounds like a short-term plan.” There were plenty of dealers who used similar business models, but it was too unpredictable for me. And douchey. That too.
“How so?” He seemed less curious about the broad answer and more interested in my answer.
“You can’t build a client list. Once someone takes your shit and realizes it isn’t what they paid for, they won’t buy from you again. If you make money going to raves and festivals, then you can get away with unreliable product. But if you want consistency, you need to provide consistency.”
“But if someone wanted to make a quick buck…”
“Yeah, they could probably do it that way.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He wrote that down, then carefully set his pen on the notepad. He made a face like he was preparing himself. “What do you want to ask me?”
I did my best not to laugh at him. “Do you have anything new on Jerome St. Maris?”
“Come on, Braddock. You know I can’t answer that. And saying no makes me look like a jackass. Ask me something I can answer.
”
“He stole half my clients already.”
“I thought you didn’t deal drugs.” He didn’t bother to hide the smirk.
“Maybe I just want to see the asshole squirm. I’m hemorrhaging money and clients. I don’t have a supply line or clients even if I wanted to keep my business afloat. And this dick is sitting pretty. Ease my inadequacy.”
“I don’t even have anything to tell you. I’m sorry.” He seemed it. “Ask me something else.”
“Where is Kallen right now? Why didn’t she take this meeting?” That was not the question I had planned, but after last night’s encounter, I couldn’t help it. Was she avoiding me?
Reyes broke eye contact. “She’s in meetings.”
“This is a meeting.”
He made eye contact again. “I was serious. Her schedule is a beast this week.”
“Then why was she out till three last night?”
A flicker of confusion crossed his otherwise pretty features. “I don’t know. Was she?”
I ignored his question in favor of my own. “Why are you being vague about her schedule?”
“A complaint was filed against her.”
I wasn’t sure if he got bored of being evasive or just had run out of non-answers, but at least we were making progress. “For what?”
“I don’t know. She isn’t allowed to tell me the details.”
“Of course. So don’t tell me the details that she didn’t tell you.” My tone suggested the exact opposite of what I was saying. “What is the complaint about?”
“You. Her involvement with you.”
“But I didn’t file a complaint.”
“Interesting.”
Super. So Reyes thought the complaint could have come from me? “What’s in the complaint?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this.” He straightened the already straight pen and pad of paper on the table.
“It’s cool. I’ll just tell Kallen that you wanted me to tell you everything I knew about fentanyl and asked me a bunch of very specific questions.”
He sighed in a masculine way. “The complaint alleges that Kallen has an inappropriate relationship with you.”
“Meaning what?”
“Favoritism, ignoring evidence of ongoing distribution, targeting your business rivals to aid you…” Reyes became very interested in the tabletop. “An ongoing sexual relationship.”
I laughed because I kind of felt like vomiting. It was the worst sort of accusation. There was just enough truth to make the utter fiction damning. “Well, at least we know it didn’t come from me.” He said nothing. Which said plenty. “Christ, thanks for the confidence. If half that were true, I’d be better off keeping my mouth shut.”
“And if it’s a fabrication, you have plenty to gain.”
“Except I’d still be at the mercy of the state, but without the relationship I’ve built with the two of you to protect me.”
“You have a point there.”
“What did Kallen say?”
“Not much.”
“Where do you think it came from?”
He met my eyes finally. After a long moment where he tried to find my soul or something, he nodded. “Okay, I didn’t think it was you either. Not your style. The accusation is vague. Just enough that whoever made the complaint doesn’t need to prove anything. The damage is done.”
I realized that I was focused entirely on the sexual allegations. That wasn’t where Reyes was. “Favoritism,” I said. He smiled bitterly. “Even if we go completely by the book, any information could have been tainted by favoritism.”
“And if you give us a useful tip, it could be a tool to garner favors. Or if you’re caught so much as jaywalking, then we should have known and prevented it.”
“So by not predicting and preventing any of my future illegal behaviors, you’re looking the other way?” I asked.
From there, I could see the implications spread. I wondered if that was why she had shown up on my porch the night before. It wasn’t jealousy; it was professional panic. That made me feel better and worse. Kallen was screwed. Which bothered me more than I wanted to analyze. Reyes could go down with her. And then I’d be a CI for the taking. Laurel’s guilt was a shield. A buffer. I liked my buffer. I also didn’t entirely hate the Kallen-Reyes duo. Aside from the whole cop thing, they weren’t terrible.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“Nothing. You especially. We all behave and let her union rep deal with it. And I never told you any of this.”
“Don’t worry. I’m rewriting this entire narrative.” I waved my hand. “In my version, we were smart enough to meet somewhere without a fuckload of kids running around.”
*****
My stereo was on. Which was odd because it hadn’t been when I left. That could only mean one thing. At the sound of the door closing, the volume dropped. A pair of feet wearing dirty canvas shoes hung over the back of my couch.
“I can get down with a lot of your preferences. But I just don’t get poetry.”
Andy. Who else would let themselves into my home, help themselves to my stereo, and leave their shoes on while sprawled on my couch?
“You know that’s just an indication that I need to inundate you with poetry, right?” I asked.
Andy swung her feet a bit while she presumably thought about that. “I’ll concede that song lyrics are poetry?” Her tone made the statement a question. As if she were asking to be let off the hook.
“I’ll take it.”
“Bitchin’.” She sat up and tossed The Marriage of Heaven and Hell on the coffee table. “So Mom said you thought I was avoiding you.”
“Yeah. I hadn’t seen you.” I sat next to her.
Andy picked absentmindedly at the frayed edge of her cutoffs. She wasn’t distracted or avoiding. Just energetic. “I was at my dad’s.”
I nodded. Three weeks was a long time for them, but Andy did usually make pilgrimages to his place in the summer. “Makes sense.”
“You’re a dumbass.”
I shrugged. “Yep.”
“You thought I was upset because I found out you were a drug dealer?”
Oh, joy. We were diving right in. “Yep.”
She caught my eyes and held. “I’ve known you were a dealer since I was twelve.”
“That’s hilarious.” That was not hilarious.
“I’m serious.” Andy didn’t look like she was fucking with me.
I held out hope that she had improved her game face dramatically in a matter of weeks. “Okay.”
“You only carry cash. Literally no one carries cash anymore. You put almost no effort in maintaining any sort of produce supply, but you’re constantly delivering produce.” She threw air quotes around delivering produce. “You never take drugs unless the situation is dire and my mom bullies you into it, yet you have an encyclopedic knowledge of drugs.” That word of the day dictionary was really doing its job. “You could say I didn’t know, know until a few months ago.”
“You mean weeks?”
“No. Months. Sophie’s older sister went to a college party. Her boyfriend bought pills from Nate.”
I had never truly hated myself until that moment. My half-truths and obvious lies crumbled into my lap. My product wasn’t mine. Once it left my hands, I had no say over the destination, no right to dictate how it was doled out and consumed. I could play benevolent drug dealer all day. But inevitably the benevolence would evaporate. And then I would simply be a drug dealer.
None of that was new. I’d known it all along, but it took Andy saying it to become real. I stared into her eyes and realized I couldn’t admit the truth. I couldn’t acknowledge the very real blow she had just delivered to my foundation. So I would have to play the role.
“Shit. Well, I guess that’s hard to argue.”
Andy didn’t move. She just studied my face. The look moved past socially acceptable and into uncomfortable staring. I held steady. If I didn’t move, maybe she couldn’t
see me. “Okay. I gotta go. But I’ll see you later. Cool?”
I nodded. Andy bumped my shoulder as she stood. A watered down grin pulled at the edge of her mouth. We were trying, dammit. We were lost. I had lost us. But we were going to try to get back.
*****
“How much do you want to know?” Nate asked.
I stared at my ceiling. Nickels flicked my nose with her tail. It was really impeding the view of my very interesting ceiling. I readjusted the phone so it wouldn’t fall. “Short version. But detail is fine.”
“What if they question you?”
“I’ll lie. Besides, not telling me isn’t protecting anyone. If you go down, I’m going with you.”
“This was your brilliant idea.”
“I’m a drug dealer. This is what I knew how to do.” It sounded flat. After my afternoon with Andy, my talents seemed cheap.
He sighed loudly. “Same, I guess.”
“I didn’t hear you talking me out of it.” I spread my fingers through Nickels’s fur. She started purring.
Nate laughed. “Okay, I ordered basics. Oxy, Adderall. Oxy is here. Adderall will get here in a couple days.”
“I still can’t believe you ordered drugs online. That’s wild.”
Nickels decided that it was rude of me to talk. She stopped purring.
“You are not that old.” Nate huffed. “I swear, man.”
With a final flick of her tail, Nickels jumped off me.
“It’s wild, though. Right?”
“Get your head out of your ass. Silk Road has been around for years. And this seller is rated really high.”
“For selling drugs online,” I said. Nate was right. This wasn’t a new concept. I had always avoided online retailers because it seemed so risky. Too many ways it could go south. But we were out of options.
“Focus.”
“Sorry. Okay, so you ordered drugs from Amazon-for-drugs.”
“It’s not—Fine. Yes. So half our shipment is here and Mateo said he would check the potency for us.”
“And Mateo is the guy you know from school?”
“Yeah, the pharmacology student.”
“And he is going to check to make sure it’s the drug it’s supposed to be, right? I’m not selling something that could be adulterated in some way.” Maybe I said that too forcefully.
The Price of Cash Page 3
