Page 277 of 7+Us Makes Nine

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 you 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.

“Oh, I should say. If anything other than a big bag of drugs comes out of your coat, I will kill you. Instantly.” He looked shit scared.

“Alright man, slow and steady. I know the drill.” He drew out a small bag of meth with a shaky hand and passed it to me.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” I threw the bag back at him. “Do I look like I’m in the mood?”

“Ok, ok.” He rummaged around in his pocket again and drew out a much bigger bag.

“That’s better. Now, I’m sure it goes without saying but this meeting never happened. Alright? You came back here to sort out a deal with a long time customer who wanted bulk.” I was satisfied when he nodded at me enthusiastically.

“Don’t cross my path again, Goldie. You stay here on your little corner, selling drugs to kids like the weasel that you are. If I see you trying to climb up the social ladder, or if word gets back to me that you’ve blabbed, I will put you behind bars. Same place the O’Rourkes went, and I’ll make sure they think you talked about Conall. You’ll get shanked in the lunch line, after the boys have had fun with you in the shower. And no one will care.”

I backed away, aiming my glock at him as I headed for the other end of the alleyway.

“Now get lost,” I said gruffly. He scrambled to his feet, straightened his clothes and then coughed as he prodded his cheek with a fat, grubby finger.

When he was back at his spot at the end of the alley I turned and walked swiftly away, holstering my service pistol. I looked down at my boots.

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