Page 5 of Property of Scythe
Shit. I shouldn’t have told her about the few times he’s touched and kissed me in those dreams. It’s just fantasy.
“Mel! How can you bring that up?”
She’s laughing too hard to answer me.
“I’m going to hang up,” I warn her.
“You get some sleep, sis.”
“I will.”
“Don’t forget to keep your vibrator close. Those dreams sound intense.”
“I hate you,” I spit, not meaning a word of it.
“You adore and love me. I’m your sissy.”
“I really do,” I relent, sighing dramatically.
“I love you just as much. Call me soon, especially if you meet the biker.”
“Uh-huh. Bye, Mel.”
“Bye, Lottie.”
We end the call, and I sink lower into the cushions of my couch, shaking my head as I think of our conversation. There’s no way I’m dreaming of a real person. The guy is eye candy with a deep rasp to his voice. He’s handsome in that gritty, wild way that most women find attractive. He’s dark and sexy and has to be something I conjured in my mind to help me deal with the attack and trauma.
I won’t see the biker. My mind understands that. But my heart? My nonexistent sex life? They both secretly hope he’s real.
Chapter 3 Scythe
“How’s the supply this month?” I ask, focusing my attention on Sasquatch since he’s our primary grower.
We’ve got a level 1 cultivator license, which ensures our dispensary has enough product to sell. We’ve expanded with the help of our contact in the Ohio Department of Commerce and doubled our legal capacity. Our approval is currently sitting at one acre. Those are the plants above ground.
And then there’s the plants we cultivate below ground. That’s the extra money maker we don’t allow anyone to see. Only patched members can access the underground cannabis farm. It’s under strict controls, including temperature, humidity, and artificial sunlight, and features a ventilation system that ensures air flow that prevents mold or disease.
The indoor plants have a higher THC level, which means higher potency for our products, especially for our customers who prefer to purchase their weed without having to provide any personal information. Not that we disclose any of that to the feds. But we do keep our own records, just not in a place where they can find them. The farms aren’t in the samelocation for a reason.
We’re known for our high-yielding plants and quality. That’s thanks to Sasquatch and the members who help cultivate and care for both our farms.
“Good. Real fucking good,” Sasquatch answers with a grin. “This next crop is the best yet, Pres.”
“Good to hear.”
“But we’re low on edibles,” Moonshine informs me. “Had a bus of college kids come through and buy a bunch of it up this morning.”
We sell a fuck ton of edibles, and it always makes me laugh since it’s grown so popular. Everyone wants a dick shaped sucker filled with THC. We sell hard candy and gummies in a variety of shapes and colors. I also employ a baker to prepare baked goods for our dispensary.
Granny Jo is my preferred contact for cannabis brownies, muffins, and cupcakes. No one makes them more delicious than she does, and she gets a cut of the profits while also enjoying as much of the product as she wants.
I’ve joked with her more than once that she puts the bliss in the dispensary’s baked goods. With a name like Butter Bliss Bakery, she knows I can’t resist teasing her about it.
“Get on it, Moonshine. I want those edibles fully restocked before the weekend.”
“On it, Pres.” He’s already texting employees to get the job done.
That’s why Moonshine oversees the store’s product supply. He knows all the employees and the recipes better than any other member of the club. He’s loyal and never fails to get the job done, no matter what I ask of him.
