Page 37 of Too Late

That’s probably the best piece of advice he ever gave me. I apply that wisdom to every aspect of my life. My friendships. My business partners. My education. My empire.

Yes, I said empire. I’m not quite there yet, but props to positive thinking and all that bullshit, right?

When I first started dealing, I was small-time. Dealt what I could, when I could, to whoever I could. Mostly Ecstasy to college kids, weed to college dropouts. Once I realized that wasn’t where the money or the power was, I started studying.

There was a full year right around the time I started college that I studied every minute of every day. And I’m not talking the bullshit textbook studying that lands you a full-time desk job making enough salary a year to buy one house, one car, and one wife. I’m talkingrealstudying. Meeting people. Becoming the person people want to meet. Sampling the good shit, the heroin, the coke, just to get a feel of what kind of drug fits better with which demographic. Knowing how to not get addicted to the shit. Getting to know your dealer so well that you become best friends with your dealer’s dealer. Building trust in whoever has more power than you, but lying low enough that they don’t see it coming when you’ve suddenly got more power than them.

I learned a lot and I learned it the hard way. Therightway. From the bottom to the top.

I don’t deal the petty shit now: X, weed, pills. I especially don’t fuck with weed. It’s an excess. You want weed? Buy yourself a gift card to the sweet shop. Don’t waste my fucking time.

But if you want the good stuff … the shit that makes you feel like you’re kissing the face of the goddamn Creator himself? That’s when you come to me. I won’t sell you the Ford, but I’ll sell you the rarest fucking Bugatti you’ll ever come across.

I’m still building. I’ll always be building. The second that someone in my position feels like they have nothing else to learn is the same second they’ll be surpassed by the next guy. As far as I’m concerned, there are no more available spots above Asa Jackson in this city. I have a good team beneath me. Guys who know their places. Guys who know I’ll be fair to them if they’re fair to me.

I’m still getting to know my newest guy, Carter. Most people are transparent, but he’s like a muddy fucking river. Most people, especially the ones who work for me, kiss my ass because they know what a fucking good thing it is to be able to fit inside my back pocket.

Carter is different. He doesn’t seem to care one way or another. It’s his indifference that unnerves me. He reminds me of myself a little, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. There’s only room for one me.

My oldest guy, Jon, is really beginning to get sloppy. He was once my right-hand man, but lately he’s become my fucking Achilles’ heel.

Which brings me back to my initial point.

If it doesn’t benefit you, it shouldn’t fucking matter to you.

I’m struggling to see how Jon benefits me anymore. He seems to just stir up bullshit wherever he goes. Last week he lost one of my biggest clients because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants when it came to the guy’s wife. EvenIknow how to draw the line between my dick and my wallet.

Unlike Jon, Carter is a benefit. He’s a good translator, he’s quiet, he shows up where he needs to be and does what I need him to do. Which is the only reason I haven’t gotten rid of him yet, despite my suspicions about him. He’s notexcessyet.

Jon, though. Jon is becoming dead weight.

But Jon also knows too much, which poses an even bigger problem.

For Jon. Not for me.

Aside from the business, I’ve cut all the other excess out of my life. Other than Sloan. She’s far from excess, though. If I had to compare her to a drug, Sloan would be heroin. Heroin is nice. Heroin makes you mellow. As long as you have it in good supply, heroin would be something you could happily inject every day for the rest of your life.

Maybe it’s weird to compare people to drugs, but when drugs are all you know, it’s normal.

Jon would be meth. He’s way too cocky, talks too much, painful at times. Real fucking painful.

Dalton would be coke. Sociable, friendly, makes you want to do more coke. I like coke.

Carter would be …

What would Carter be?

I don’t think I know Carter well enough to know which drug he resembles. But for about two minutes last night when I thought Sloan said his goddamn name, Carter was the motherfucking overdose.

But she didn’t say his name. She’s never even spoken to the guy as far as I know. And if he’s smart, that means he’s never spoken to her beyond their introduction in the kitchen.

But soon, I won’t have to worry about the guys around here because she won’t live in this house anymore. She’ll be inourhouse.

Shit.

Fuck!

I was supposed to buy the fucking ring today. I knew I was forgetting something.

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