Alone In The Darkness

Chapter 18

Nick pulled up to the house. He reached into the back of his car and pulled a small duffle bag into his lap. The bag contained two handguns wrapped in a shirt along with a magnetic metal box. Nick's paranoia had increased over the last few weeks when delivering finished units for distribution. His job was delivery to and from the house. As it was explained to him, "You're a jackass. Understand? A car mule. Drive slow, drive responsible, and always deliver. You're an in-and-out man. Raw product in, finished product out." He took the liability and risk in transportation. His deliveries had been increasing in size and value along with his paranoia. For Nick, a hundred grand of drugs in the car increased the risk of bodily harm, and the guns were his way of cooling that fear. The box was a tax on transportation. A skimmer by nature, he felt he deserved more than his normal wage.

He sat for a brief moment staring forward at the collection of cars and the flickering porch light. He pulled his hand to his face and took the last drag of his cigarette. He flicked the butt out of the window, the orange end glowing and spinning in the night. He was late to work and he knew he would get an earful from Tyler. His teeth pulled back on his lower lip and he closed his eyes. His finger pulled back on the lever and the window began to roll up closing him in. He opened the door and quickly walked up the porch with his small bag in tow.

"Sorry I'm late," he said clearing a small path between bags and boxes. He lowered his head preparing for the onslaught that never came.

From the other side of the room, Tyler coiled his body to see Nick, "I need you and Steven on bud sorting and med setup." Nick's face softened to Tyler's tone. The verbal beating never came. He shifted between Steven and Kora who had not turned to greet him. Their heads were down and busy cutting material, processing, and bagging.

"Good evening to you all too. Lover's quarrel?" His arm arced the room. His sarcasm was ignored as he dropped his bag against the wall. There was a dull clattering of metal on metal as the bag settled. Everyone was too busy working to notice the odd sound.

"You're fucking late." Tyler said. Nick's mouth curled slightly. He knew Tyler would have something to say.

"I'm here now, amigo."

"Where have you been? You knew when we were starting tonight. I tell you that time and you need to be here at that time or you don't have a job."

"Hey man, I know I'm late. I fell asleep this afternoon and woke late. I got my shit together and hurried out, but I had to drop a friend off and it took longer than I anticipated. I was texting Kora to let you know. Hey, that's responsible right there. I didn't keep you in the dark."

Tyler was now fully turned and facing Nick, "You're a shit liar, Nick. There's a fucking child's art painting on your face."

"Hey, I'm telling you the truth, but I'm here. Just forget about it. Time to sort some bud, right? I am on it. Bud, bud, and more bud. I love sorting bud."

Tyler saw his arms and his palms lift to the ceiling. It was Nick's tell and Tyler's blood began to boil. He crossed the room and pressed Nick up against the wall. The kitchen fell silent as Tyler commanded full attention. "I can't deal with your childish shit tonight. I've got more to deal with than you can imagine and I'm not going to blow cycles listening to you. You will not be the next spur in my ass."

Nick's head turned, not making eye contact, "Alright man, I'm here. Let's just do some work."

Tyler backed off and navigated his way through the kitchen mess to the counter.

Nick looked at the back of the three heads in the kitchen. "What's going on tonight? Y'all look like you're pissed off or something. Are we getting shares cut or having to pull doubles again?"