Page 55 of We Are Yours
I shook off the memory, still seeing my parents in the back of separate police cars, acting belligerent. I didn’t know if he was expressing that to my mother or the cop, and I still didn’t.
It was always empty promises.
Convenient lies.
Bullshit excuses.
The only upside from that day was that our parents didn’t use us as collateral with their dealers. They’d basically hold us ransom. They crossed every line. There were no boundaries when it came to their shitty-ass parenting or lack thereof.
I just happened to run into Marco randomly one night at a gas station after Kraven and I’d been split up by CPS yet again. We couldn’t find Joe to bribe him to play parental guardian, and on top of that, we were flat broke. I needed money, and I needed it fast. I swear, Marco could smell it on me, the desperation I wore like a cloak. Before I knew what I was doing, I was getting paid hundreds for only working one evening.
Selling drugs came far too easily for me, and I hated admitting that. Maybe it was from being around it all of my life, but I could spot a customer from a mile away. After proving myself, Marco began sending me to college campuses and festivals. When I turned seventeen, he added his clubs. I’d always been told I looked older, and I used that to my advantage. At almost six-foot-three, I didn’t have to try very hard to pass.
No one ever questioned my age. If anything, I think it motivated them to buy from me. I was less intimidating than someone who appeared to be in their thirties or forties. Of course, in the back of my mind, I was still terrified about undercover cops.
I tried staying referral-based. It helped take off the pressure of getting arrested and being charged with class D felonies for selling cocaine and ecstasy. Neither of which I sampled, and the irony was not lost on me.
However, I’d be tried in the Special Youth part of the criminal court, not as an adult, though with my birthday around the corner, there’d be a chance I’d be tried as one. I was painfully aware of the consequences, and ending up in prison was the first one on the list.
I also never made hand-to-hand exchanges. I always left it in a nearby bathroom stall. I got the cash and told them where to find their stash. No one fought me on it. From the moment I started dealing for Marco, I knew I was in control. Another skill I acquired from my fucked-up childhood.
My parents failed to realize that, and my brother and I paid the repercussions for it.
* * *
So becoming sharp and silent were both mandatory for our survival.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Julius
I also didn’t ask any questions.
I was in, and I was out.
It was that simple.
I didn’t party with them, I didn’t let them taste the merchandise, and I didn’t even leave open tabs they could pay me back on. I wasn’t their friend. I was their dealer, and I never forgot that. Making them well aware that I wasn’t someone they could chill with or feel like they could disrespect.
It was truly that simple.
Everyone in the wide-open space was dancing their asses off. Eyes closed with their heads leaning back, facing the ceiling, they let the melody take over as happiness coursed through their veins.
I was jealous, and I hated to admit that, too. I’d love nothing more than to experience that carefree feeling at least one time in my youth. Don’t get me wrong, I loved music. It had the power to make everything go away.
All the bad.
All the memories.
All the questions.
It silenced all the noise.
But even then, when I was playing in front of a crowd, I still didn’t feel what they did. I wasn’t playing the violin from memory or talent, I played from somewhere deeper…
Every phrase.
