Page 6 of Sold on Them

The music pulses and the lights flash as I walk through the VIP area of Ivory Tower.

“Hey! Damon!”

Glancing over my shoulder, I find one of the regulars heading my way. He’s a young guy in his early twenties, probably still in college, and from what I’ve gathered, rather wealthy. He always buys from me when he’s here, and I can already see the dollar signs.

“Matthew, what’s up?” We do the weird bro handshake and half hug. “You looking to buy?”

He grins. “You know it.”

Glancing around, I lead him over to a table in the corner. “What are you shopping for tonight?”

“I need some Xanax, E, Adderall, and Oxy. I’ll buy whatever you have left. We’re having a party tomorrow night, and I want to make sure everyone has a good time.”

I snort. “Everything? You know how much I usually carry on me, kid?”

He nods, reaching into his jacket and flashing me a wad of cash. “I do, and you know I’m good for it.”

“Alright. Let me grab my bag. You stay here.” At his nod, I start toward the bar.

The bartender is Ian’s niece, and she’s the only employee who knows what I sell. She glances up at me as I near. “Another sale?”

“A big one,” I say with a laugh, and she nods as she lifts the backpack onto the top of the bar. I grab it, ignoring the look the bouncer at the top of the stairs gives me as I walk back over to Matthew. “Alright, let’s get this done. Do you have somewhere to put it?”

He nods. “My girl has her purse. You cool if she comes over?”

I shrug and a moment later, a young blonde in a barely there dress joins us. I look at the large designer handbag and shake my head. “I’m surprised they let you bring that in.”

Matthew scoffs. “Like they would tell me no. Plus, they checked it before letting us come in.”

As annoying as I find his words, I know them to be true. Unless he really fucks something up, Ian isn’t going to do anything to piss the kid off. At least they searched the bag. Not that they’ll be searching it on the way out, which is when it’ll be filled with drugs.

I’m surprised that me calling him a kid doesn’t piss him off. I’m twenty-eight, so it’s not like there’s much difference in our ages. It’s our experiences that set us apart. Matthew hasn’t hadto work for anything a day in his life, whereas I’ve done nothing but work my ass off since I was eighteen.

All it took was two days to upend the life I’d lived until then. But now’s not the time to go delving into the past. There’s never really a good time to think about my life back then. It’s not like I’ll ever be able to live it again.

“Are we doing this?” Matthew’s tone is bored, but I see the way he’s eyeing my bag. Kid better watch out—he’s on a one-way street to addiction.

“Yeah.”

I know how many pills are in each baggie, but I count them out loud for his benefit. I’m keeping a running total in my head as I continue. Luckily I’ve always excelled at numbers because who wants a fucking drug dealer who pulls out a calculator to tell you how much you owe them?

Once everything has been transferred, I rattle off the extremely high number, but Matthew doesn’t even flinch. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out that wad of cash, counting off hundred dollar bills before handing them to me.

“As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you, kid. Let me know if you have any more parties coming up,” I tell him with a grin. “If you give me a week’s notice, I can get you even more than this next time.”

Matthew returns my smile as his girl closes her bag and pulls it up her arm to rest on her shoulder. “I’ll definitely let you know. We’re going to see how tomorrow goes, and if it goes well, this might be a weekly thing.”

Dollar signs are flashing before my eyes already. If I could make this much or more off the kid weekly, I wouldn’t need to keep working here. The amount of money he just spent is enough to pay for a month of my mom’s care. Obviously, I still have to pay my supplier, so I don’t get to keep all the money. But still.

“Until next time,” he says, saluting me.

I watch the two of them pass Tyrone, whose eyes are locked on me as I walk back to the bar. Handing the bag to Rachel. “That’s probably the last time I’ll need that. It’s close to closing, and I’m almost out.”

Rachel whistles. “Damn. You weren’t kidding about it being a big sale.”

“I was not.” I grin as I slide a hundred across the bar to her. “For your troubles.”

She grabs it, dropping it into the tip jar. “You know that’s not necessary. Just like it’s not necessary to give my uncle a cut. He knows what it’s like to be struggling, and he’s just trying to help you like someone once helped him.”

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