Listen to the audio reading on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/4pkQ0XazZpJtUrgz7Bfqu8?si=Q2V1tdQXTaiELVdNRocgZA
Pro-Tip for Humans #7: the secret lives of friends should remain secret.
So there I was, dragged out of bed by two drug dealers with a gun shoved in my face. And just to add a little spice to the evening, my girlfriend was then threatened with death by being shot in the face. Just my luck, right? Must be a Tuesday.
The love of my life and possibly very-soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend Jaime turned to look at me at Tanya's death threat, her face twisted with rage and disgust.
There are only so many things you can say in a situation like this and none of them are good. When someone is threatening to kill your girlfriend unless you give up the drugs that you're hiding in your apartment, don't be a dick.
I tried to reason with Tanya. "How about you guys just let Jaime go, and I'll get you anything you want?"
Tanya was far from being reasonable. "Give us the drugs."
"Julio will murder me," I pleaded, looking between her and Doreen. Surely one of them had to see how stupid this whole thing was.
Tanya scoffed. "Sounds like a 'you problem' to me, cuz I'm going to murder you." She cocked the gun dramatically. "Drugs now."
I glanced at my pissed-off girlfriend and tried one more time. "Let her go and I'll tell you where they are."
"I'm going to put a bullet in her face at the count of three," Tanya helpfully pointed out. "One..."
"Cupboard above the fridge," I muttered, not daring to look at Jaime this time. "There's a false back. Just give it a nudge."
"Keep an eye on them, sweetie," Tanya said to Doreen and backed away into the kitchen. She found the step-ladder next to the fridge and quickly set it up to rummage through the cupboard.
"Drugs Bob?" Jaime hissed at me. "Fucking drugs?"
"I can explain--"
"Can you really? Because two women in the apartment with guns looking for drugs is really fucking hard to explain."
"You're absolutely right," I admitted. "This I can't explain."
I glanced over my shoulder at the well-muscled Doreen and she tried to glower at me but she really wasn't very good at it.
"Psst! Doreen!" I hissed. "Give us a break here will ya?"
Doreen shook her head. I realized after a moment that Jaime was glaring at me.
"You know each other?" Jaime asked dumbfounded.
Doreen waved and smiled awkwardly. "You must be Jaime," she said, "Bob talks about you all the time. I'd shake your hand, but you know: working! And besides, you might punch me."
I wanted to sink into the floor under the strength of Jaime's laser glare. I thought I had seen her mad before but this was on another level like I was fucking dead no matter what happened kind of level.
"Tanya and Doreen run drugs for Julio," I mumbled.
That one caught Jaime by surprise.
"Wait, Julio? From upstairs? He's a drug dealer?"
"It's always the quiet ones," I observed. "You never see it coming."
Tanya climbed down from the ladder, holding the four plastic-wrapped bricks of heroin that Julio had left in my care about a week ago. Each block had been clearly labelled in black Sharpie "JULIO'S HEROIN," to prevent any confusion. I had pointed out to him that it implicated the shit out of him if I got caught with them. He had, in turn, pointed out to me that he was going to murder me if I got caught, so I had more incentive to stay out of trouble.
Julio mostly sold some primo weed, better than the legal marijuana they were selling these days. Every now and again, Julio would come into something a little extra. The last place he wanted to keep his stash was where people would look, so he had a couple of guys on his payroll. It paid well enough, and he always provided a little taste of the product, and that suited me just fine. It was a simple arrangement: as long as we didn't touch the actual product, Julio wouldn't kill us. I had no problems with that. It wasn't like I was a junkie or anything, just your average recreational heroin addict. And yes, such a thing existed: I was living proof of it. Dammit.
"We got them," Doreen said in disbelief from behind us. "Can we go now?" Doreen brushed past us to go over to Tanya and took the bricks from her, doing a mini-celebratory dance of joy.
"I hate to break up the party but Julio is going to lose his shit when he finds out about this," I pointed out helpfully. I could see a painful future waiting for me and wasn't liking it, not one bit.
"I'm already losing my shit, but don't mind me, I'm just the girlfriend," Jaime murmured from next to me. "That's heroin! In our apartment!"
"That is not heroin--" I bluffed badly.
"Then why the fuck does it have 'Julio's Heroin" written on the side?"
"Okay, you caught me. It's heroin."
"Goddamit, Bob," Jaime hissed.
I tried to ignore her. Maybe I could at least appeal to Tanya's better side. "Guys! Julio doesn't like it when his people fuck with his supply."
Tanya bent down in front of me and put the barrel of her gun under my chin. I met her gaze steadily and tried not to tremble. She had a stupid teardrop tattoo at the corner of her right eye that was very distracting. I wondered if I should tell her and then decided not to.
"You tell Julio a word of this," Tanya threatened, "and I will come back for you. I will kill you and your pretty little girlfriend just to make a point."
"Have you actually met Julio?" I asked in great confusion. "The man is a psychopath. I'm not going to have a choice."
"I'll fucking kill you right now--"
"I don't think so," came a man's voice through the broken front door.
Tanya bolted to her feet and pointed the gun at the man. Doreen spun, fumbling the bricks of heroin and almost dropping them. I was just glad the weapon was out of my face. Sure it was now pointed at Claude but he had more experience with guns.
"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" Tanya snarled.
"Is that Claude?" Jaime hissed, having recognized the voice.
"You can call me Smith," Claude drawled as he sauntered into the kitchen. "It's not my real name of course, but the right people know who I am."
It was undeniable that Claude's presence filled the room. It may have had something to do with the black knee-length topcoat that made him look like he had just stepped out of a gangster movie with very well-dressed gangsters, or it might have just been Claude himself. He was a hell of a lot more confident than any man had a right to be when he had a gun pointed at his head by a pissed-off drug dealer. At six feet two inches, Claude was taller than I was, and yes, dammit: he was handsome in the way that made women either want to find out all about his dirtiest secrets or give him some new ones. He was what I described as a big damn hero, and in all of the twenty years that I had known him, he had never let me down once. When Claude was around, I was instantly the sidekick, and I didn't mind one bit.
Claude carried a brown McDonald's bag that no doubt contained the breakfast sandwiches he usually brought with him when he dropped by.
"Who the fuck are you?" Tanya yelled, and Claude just raised his eyebrow. He made eye contact with me and winked, completely ignoring Tanya, just to send a message that she was no longer in charge, gun or not.
"You okay there, Bob? Jaime?" Claude asked.
I waved and glanced at Jaime who was shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
"Not good at all. I just got my ass kicked... and I think I just got dumped," I grumbled.
"Oh, you are so dumped," Jaime agreed, glaring daggers at me.
"Well it is a Tuesday," Claude reminded me. Tuesdays always sucked for me. I should have just stayed in bed--
"Mister, I'm going to shoot you in the face--" Tanya threatened, waving the gun for emphasis and reminding me that she was the reason I wasn't still in bed. Doreen was frozen, eyes darting from Claude to Tanya and back again. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
"You really don't want to point that gun at me," Claude advised cooly. He smoothly produced a simple white card in his hand. It was like watching a magic trick. One minute his hand was empty and then, the card was there as if it always had been. "Take it. Everything you need to know is right there."
Doreen inched forward and snatched the card as if Claude might bite. Her face lost all colour as she read it, and she literally began shaking.
"What's the matter with you?" Tanya asked, still keeping her eyes on Claude.
"Leave the drugs," Doreen said softly but forcefully. She gave the card to the curious Tanya, who read the card and nodded in agreement.
Tanya put the gun away. "We're leaving the drugs."
As the broken door valiantly tried to swing shut behind the women, it felt as if all air had been sucked out of the room. I was just about ready to give Claude a big round of applause for that performance, but then I caught the look on Jaime's face and my smile slowly faded.
An exclamation of "What the fuck just happened?" would have been appropriate in the circumstances, but I could see from the set of Jaime's lips and the way that she was making the clocking noise in her mouth the way she always did when she was thinking deeply, that she was way beyond that.
There are four stages of rage and Jaime paid a brief visit to each one in a matter of seconds. The first one was the standard "I'm going to fucking kill you"; the second was a more fitting "I'm going to murder you slowly and painfully"; the third was the macabre "I'm going to dance on your corpse after I've murdered you and eaten your eyeballs,"; and the fourth stage was the nuclear option of "I'm going to murder you so thoroughly there won't be a corpse to dance on." There was a moment as she reached a fifth rarely-seen stage: "fuck your life".
She looked from me to Claude and then back again, then held out her hand.
"You scared two armed thugs into running away with a piece of paper? Let me see the card," Jaime demanded.
"I can't do that Jaime."
"Can't or won't?"
"Won't."
"Fuck you, Claude. Fuck you." Jaime wheeled on me. "Tell me something that is not a lie," she demanded.
"I love you," I said after too long a moment.
"And I love you, Bob," Jaime whispered hoarsely, "more than you'll ever know."
"Jaime--" Claude began, and Jaime wheeled on him, directing all of her fury on him.
"You don't get to talk to me Claude! I don't even know who the fuck you are anymore!"
Claude's face went white, and he stepped back, shaken. He had always been able to talk his way out of anything and it shook me to see him speechless in the face of Jaime's wrath.
I stepped forward, imploring, knowing what was coming, knowing it was already done, but I had to try anyway.
"Jaime, don't," I pleaded. "I'm the one who fucked up. Claude wouldn't have to save my ass if I hadn't fucked up this badly. This is all me."
She looked up at me and took a deep breath.
"I know it was," she said, tears in her eyes. "Which is why I have to leave."
Jaime spun and strode toward the door. Claude moved back to give her room to pass, but she didn't even look at him. He glanced at me, pain in his eyes and I nodded slowly, my heart breaking with Jaime's every step.
It was over.
My heart stopped a little when Jaime paused at the broken door.
"Bob?"
"Yes, Jaime?"
"You two deserve each other," she said.
And then Jaime was gone.
There was silence for a long moment, then--
Claude dug into the paper bag, the crackling of the paper loud in the silence. After a moment, he produced two greasy yellow-paper-wrapped sandwiches and threw one to me. I immediately took it and threw it against the wall in a fit of pique.
"How can you eat at a time like this?" I asked as Claude tore into his sandwich, glaring angrily into the distance.
"As bad as things may seem, I've never had a breakfast sandwich let me down," Claude observed.
"It is a tasty sandwich," I agreed. I considered the sandwich on the floor, still mostly in its wrapper. My stomach growled at me, and I swore under my breath, then snatched it up.
If this was a romcom, I would have gotten the girl and the sandwich while making some droll remark about breakfast being the most important meal of the day. We would all laugh and life would be great and nobody would say a word about how Claude was a scary motherfucker who had just defeated two drug dealers with nothing but a business card, because that kind of shit doesn't happen.
But my life wasn't a romcom, and instead, I was reassembling my busted floor-sandwich and wondering how it had all gone wrong. To be honest, if it was a movie, it would be more of a buddy-comedy, maybe with less comedy at the moment.
I really want to say something pithy and snappy here, but I'm just gonna say fuck it.
Roll credits.
<<<<>>>>
Soundtrack: Filter - Hey Man, Nice Shot