Buried Deep ✔️

Chapter Five [Summerfest]

Holiday drove me to the supplier's house with the windows down. It was seventy-degrees in the city, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. The traffic was non-existent because nobody drove through the projects unless they had to. The few cars we passed honked their horns and squealed their tires in a wasted effort to intimidate us.

"You know, Spence, yesterday didn't work out, but I have a good feeling about tonight." He parked the car in the vacant driveway.

The house in front of us reminded me a lot of Churro's place. It was small with the same peeling white paint. I climbed out of the passenger's seat and pushed the door shut, ignoring the stinging pain in my calf.

"What makes you think that?" I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket.

He flashed a smile. "Because I know how bad you want to be Cayden's number one guy. Nothing can stand in your way when you want something."

I chuckled as I stepped back from his car and gave him a wave. He knew me well. Holiday had become one of my best friends when I joined the gang. He always looked out for me.

For a moment, I stood in the driveway and watched as his car disappeared down the street. Kids screamed in the distance as they played during the daylight hours after school, and the neighbors' eyes stared me down. I was a stranger to this part of town.

I turned and headed up the driveway, stopping only when I reached the front door. I knocked on it and took a step back to wait. My body was hot beneath my jacket and sweat beaded along the back of my neck. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to ease the nervousness of being out in the open.

After a minute, I heard the clicking of locks, and the door was jerked half-way open. A tall African-American man with a white mask covering his face greeted me.

"You here for Cayden's shit, homie?"

I glanced around. "Yeah, you got it?" The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I hated doing deals in the open. It made me vulnerable to curious eyes.

"Yeah, dawg. Here," he said, reaching his hand out through the crack in the door. He held a plastic baggie filled with little white capsules. I took it from him as I handed over the money Cayden had given me.

"Thanks." I shoved the baggie into my jacket pocket and nodded.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He started to force the white door closed.

I caught the door with my hand. "Bro, let me come in and separate this shit out to sell."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the street behind me. "I can't let you in here. People will start asking questions."

"It'll take two minutes," I said, removing my hand from the door.

His eyes landed on something behind me, and he froze. "Get inside now," he spat.

I stepped into the house, and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw what had changed his mind. A cop car had turned onto the street and was creeping past the houses.

I shook my head and let out a sigh of relief as the man shut the door behind me. He worked to re-lock the obsessive amount of locks on his front door. You always had to watch your back in this business. The laws looked for any reason to take you in and showed no mercy when they did.

I turned and fumbled my way through the dark room. There was only one light shining above a tattered tan couch with a small T.V. Stacks of cash sat haphazardly on the side table beside a scale. The room looked as if it had never been cleaned. It was littered with trash. I sat down on the couch and pulled the plastic bag out of my pocket, along with some other small bags. I opened the main bag and poured the molly into my lap, separating a couple of capsules into each little bag.