The gang would most likely give him batches of drugs up front, their signature 80 percent meth. He would have to sell roughly three quarters or so of it within a week in order to pay the gangsters back. The rest was his profit margin. He could either smoke it or sell it, or both.
No matter what, he had to sell the meth. These guys were not the sort you wanted to owe anything to. If he was wise, he’d buy the meth up front after starting to turn a profit. At least then a slow week wouldn't mean the loss of a finger, toe, or one of his expensive gold teeth. Teeth that he’d originally lost for owing money to nasty gangsters in the first place.
I watched him from a safe distance for a while. He made about three transactions in the ten minutes I was there.
I wasn’t gonna bust him. Not if he gave me the info I wanted. No, if I arrested him the biker gang would know about it. Also, if he got locked up there would be a new kid there selling meth within a day or so anyway.
I had formulated a plan of attack and intimidation. The fact that he was standing at the edge of an alleyway made it much easier to carry out.
I waited for his next customer to be on his way, then chose my moment. I had to get this done quick, otherwise he might get backup. I just hoped I wasn’t recognized by any spotters, that they didn’t know who I was.
Well, if they don’t know who I am, they damn well will soon. Taking over my town? I don’t think so.
I pulled the collar up on my trench coat and put some dark, large rimmed sunglasses on as I walked quickly towards John Goldteeth. I saw his five gold teeth flash bright yellow in the sun as I drew closer.
He saw me approach and flinched, cursing under his breath.
“Yo, Goldie. Been a while, bro,” I spat at him as I approached.
“Hey, Jack. Listen, I can explain…”
His words were cut short as I punched him firmly in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs.
“Guess you didn’t learn your lesson, John!” I said quietly as I pushed him into the dark recess of the alley, kneeing him in the chest as he tried to rise from his half crouch behind a dumpster.
He held his hands up defensively. “Fucks sake, Jack. Let me…”
I drew my glock and cracked the butt savagely against the side of his face, satisfied with the crunch as it connected with his cheekbone.
“I’ll do the talking, Johnnie boy. You’ll listen and tell me what I need to know.” I paused, waiting for him to give me another reason to hit him again. He stayed quiet, holding his face, wincing.
“Good. Listen, I heard from a good source you’re selling meth for the new gang in town.” He nodded, grimacing.
“I want a sample of your meth. And a name. Give me what I want or I’ll take all your meth and beat you senseless. And yo
u can go explain to the new boys how you got beat up by a junkie and lost your meth. Then you’ll lose all your nice shiny gold teeth.”
He looked up at me, a pleading look in his eye. He looked pathetic.
I nodded at him. “Talk. Now.”
He gasped a breath in. “Look, I’ll tell you what I know. Alright. But just what I know, and it ain’t much, I promise.”
I nodded at him. “Go on, then.”
“Shit, man. Ok. You remember Conall O’Rourke? Word on the street is that he’s back. And he’s pissed, man. Wants to take back what’s his.”
I kicked John in the gut.
“It’s not his town. It’s mine!” I spat at him. “There’ll be no meth epidemic on my streets!”
He whimpered pathetically. “Hey man, enough with the beating. I’m only passing on what I was told.”
“Conall. Conall O’Rourke,” I said, thoughtfully. “I remember the piece of work. Nasty, reckless piece of trash. How in the hell did he get away?”
“I don’t know man, honest. They couldn’t get anything to stick, so I heard. That’s all I got. I just get meth off his dealers and give them the money. I don’t know any names, I promise. The two I deal with are called Shark and Cathal. Cathal’s got dreadlocks, see.”
“I get it, John. Shut up. Give me some meth before I decide I’m gonna beat you just for fun.” I held my left hand out and pointed my glock in his face with my right.