Edited by Brett Heller

Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 license.

The cool breeze common to Lancaster , Pennsylvania in the fall rustles Derek's stark black hair. He firmly, carefully shuts the door to his gleaming, fully restored 1969 Camaro. Derek scans the yard of the professor's three story Victorian. Two dozen college students with Greek letters on tees, windbreakers and a few sweaters mill across the plush manicured lawn.

Derek flashes his "good to see ya" smile to one of his distributors as he makes his way round back. A sorority girl from Chi Delta Alpha places a plastic cup full of whatever keg has most recently been tapped in his hand. He takes it, hugs her and let her paw him anxiously. He grins at the frat boys as they envy his good fortune. The coed completes searching him for weapons and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. He brushes her cheek with his open hand and then disappears into the packed house. Derek squeezes his way through the throng gyrating to the latest hip-hop release. Derek notices the Professor has been careful to remove his more delicate, valuable treasures from the various areas of his home.

Squeezing past another half dozen acquaintances, Derek finally makes it upstairs to the professor's study. The dark oak door to the study looks like it belongs on the front door of the house. Reinforced steel core with a double dead bolt. Derek knows the door is just a part of what makes the professors study a practical panic room. The mammoth door opens slightly and two waifish girls ran out giggling. Derek ignores the two and enters shutting the door behind him. The room smells of patchouli oil, lilac and smoke. Professor Smith takes a long drag and waits for Derek to sit in the plush burgundy leather chair across from him.

"Well?" Smith still has not blown any of the smoke he has taken in.

Derek leans forward, forearms on knees, "Forty-four grand. The customary 100% on the monthly 20 and I made an additional twenty four beyond that. Twelve for me, twelve for you."

Smith remains silent for a moment and casually meets Derek's eyes. "Adequate." Smith takes the two envelopes offered and lets them rest in his lap. "Choi believes you are handling for another." The statement is made in a flat matter of fact tone. The accusation and the danger is clear to Derek.

"It is what you think that matters to me." Derek shifts upright.

"Of course." Smith smiles. "I think you are handling for someone else." Smith waits. He does not take his eyes away from Derek's, waiting for a response.

Derek has not read the personal power guru texts the professor has but he knows an attempt at intimidation when he saw one. He enjoys their silence until finally the professor sighs. "The risks you take are my risks. If you are handling for someone else you must tell me, Derek."

Derek locks his eyes to the professor's. "The risks I take are yours. And now your risks are mine. I told you that Lucas would be a problem. That's serious, what he pulled this month." Derek brushs at his black jeans.

"Dammit, Derek. Is that what this is about, Lucas? I told you Lucas is a necessary evil. Did you think you would be my only go to guy forever? Generals have more than one officer, Derek. Business has been growing. There is more product than you can physically handle-"

Derek interrupts. "I know business is growing. I got no problem with you bringing up new handlers if they know what they're doing. You could have brought up Cado. I been telling you he has more talent than we are using. This Lucas is an A-1 clusterfu-"

"Lucas brought me 68 large this month, Derek."

"That's short term thinking, Professor. Peter, been in Lucas's crew for eight months, shorted him three benji's and Lucas punished him by slapping his girlfriend right in front of him. And he still has Peter working for him. Peter ain't gonna to let that pass. He ain't going to forget that. That kind of decision making threatens everything you have built."

"Derek, I am afraid you cannot see past your own concerns. I have a business to grow and you choosing to handle for someone else because you don't like my hiring choices- well, that is simply not acceptable. I am going to give you one week to focus your attention on handling the product I provide you and strip away whatever distractions you have indulged in recently."

Derek shakes his head. It would happen tonight as he had expected.

Smith taps the armchair's rich fabric. "Do you understand me, Derek?"