Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
I paced back and forth across the house to the annoyance of my roommates, except for Alan who, as far as I could tell, did not move from his slump in the couch all day except to piss or eat.
This was it for me, I thought. Not even new product that was bad — the stuff I already owned somehow just stopped getting people high. People still bought and smoked and dropped stuff — the placebo effect alone did a lot of work. But no one came back to me for more. Oh well, they probably thought, time to settle for a different drug. I seemed to be the only one who gave a shit about the downward trend — probably because it was my cash on the line.
First it was the acid, then the mushrooms, then the molly and the coke, and now… the fucking cannabis. The most popular one. This batch I'd gotten was pretty fucking grade too… until it wasn't. It made no sense.
The sun went down and I realized I'd wasted the whole day worrying, having responded to zero texts and zero phone calls. Joey had ordered takeout twice in the meantime but I was too anxious to eat anything. At some point I'd fallen asleep and napped for three solid hours, got up all groggy and just started pacing again.
So I opened the cabinets to find some alcohol, downing some rum straight from the bottle, letting it sizzle in my head for a bit, and taking a few deep breaths.
What the fuck am I going to say to Tonor? I thought. Should I just let him have it? He's gotta be fucking with me. Selling me some chemically weak bullshit. Probably thinks he knows best cuz he's from outside. Trying to teach us a lesson. He does know how easy it is to just grow your own weed, right? Mushrooms too. Any one of us could start a batch, if we wanted to. If it wasn't more dangerous and sketchy and a waste of my time and money than just keeping dried shit in bags in a closet.
Fuck it, before I flake out again. I took one more swig of booze, pulled out my phone, and called my dealer.
"Yo T," I said, as soon he picked up. "I'm having that problem again."
There was a long pause on the other line, as if he was still processing.
"The problem?" asked Tonor, in a low, stupefyingly calm voice. "With what?"
"The last batch you sold me," I said. "It stopped working. Just like the other stuff."
"There's a buzzing on your end," he interjected. "Do you hear it?"
"Dude, c'mon, focus!" I yelled. Fucker could be a real space cadet sometimes. Probably too much acid. Probably hoarding all the good shit for himself and his friends.
"Sorry, sorry," he said hastily. "I forgot. You said you're having a problem."
"Ugh, yes, dude. It's not… y'know… working anymore."
"It's not getting you high, you mean."
"Dude, c'mon."
"Oh, sorry right. You still think this line is tapped. I forget about that oceanside sometimes."
"Oceanside? Wait—" The hair on the back of my neck shot up suddenly. "What was that noise?"
"What noise? That buzzing?"
I froze. What was the noise? It had appeared out of nowhere, barely even registering in my ears, yet I distinctly remembered hearing it, only moments ago.
"No, not a buzz," I said, after a long pause. I tried to parse it. It was… it had been some brief high-pitched beeps. Like a smoke detector, but there was something uncanny about it. Irregular, like Morse code.
"Never mind."
"Did you hear it through the phone?" he asked.
"Yeah, I guess," I replied, "but it's not important."
"Hm, you're probably right. It's likely nothing. But it is still… uhh… interesting."
What a goddamn nerd, I thought. It was so like him to needle on those throwaway remarks.
"Back to your problem," he continued. "I'm not happy about it, but it makes sense."
"Makes sense? The hell? What makes sense about it?" I felt my anger coming back. "Something you're not telling me here, buddy?"
"I've got something for you," he said.
"Oh yeah?"
"If the weed's bad. I don't know if this will change things, but…"
"Huh? What you got?"
"It's a surprise."
"Oh wow, dude, okay. Great time for a surprise right now. Some answers might be better."
"Afraid I can't give you those over the phone. Like you said, line's tapped."
I rolled my eyes. "How much?"
He gave me a number. It was low.
"You have time tonight?" he asked. "We can meet in our usual spot in… four hours, when the weather turns around."
"Four hours… what is that, midnight?"
"Stroke o' midnight? Perfect. See you there. I'll bring the surprise. Namaste."
He hung up. I stood there for a bit longer at the kitchen counter, holding the bottle of rum, and then realized I was gripping it so hard my knuckles were white. I looked down at the countertop, at the dirty glasses and the coffee stains, under the harsh kitchen light, and felt completely sober. Begrudgingly, I put the bottle away, back in the cabinet.
After an eternity, the car came to a stop in the middle of the road, about a hundred and fifty feet away.
A figure emerged from the car, obscured by darkness, then floated around to the back. It popped the trunk, reached in and emerged with a large RC car, an ugly yellow Jeep. It floated a little closer and put the car on the ground, extracting a remote control from its back pocket.
The process was inefficient, but it was a safe and established routine. Tonor would stand far away from me, at the designated distance, and pilot the little jeep over to me. I'd drop a wad of cash in the cabin of the jeep, which he'd then drive back to him. He'd take the cash, drop a backpack on top of the jeep loaded with goods, and carefully drive it over to me again. Then I'd remove the payload, stuff it in my own bag, and let him pilot the empty backpack home. And we'd go our separate ways.
But this time he was driving drunk, so to speak. He always had to manuever around potholes in the dirt, this unmaintained road that no one used. But he was really taking risks, doing some extra weaving and dodging for no reason.
"Come on, take this seriously," I muttered under my breath. He was giving me anxiety.
I dropped the cash in when the jeep arrived at my feet, gave the ok signal with arm outstretched, and the jeep bolted straight back to its owner, as if Tonor was more than eager to get it. Just to rip me off once more.
The passengers were swapped in the distance and the jeep began its second trip back to me. Again, Tonor decided that now would be a good time to show off with the controls. Sure enough, under the extra weight, the car bounced and rolled over a tiny rock way off course. The bag toppled over, falling out of the car and landing upside down.
I heard the clattering of glass and plastic. The car itself turned on its side and started revving, wheels spinning frantically.
Shit!
I glanced at the helpless jeep, then at Tonor. He was jerking his controls like crazy.
It occurred to me that somehow, in all our years of dealing, we'd never come up with a contingency plan for this.
I stood frozen in fear. Tonor stopped trying to right the car, and a good minute went by in total silence. The only sound was the chittering of distant crickets. Not even the city was audible. It always seemed like it was rumbling away in some fashion, but out here I couldn't hear even a dull roar.
Tonor stood perfectly still, as if waiting for me to make the move. He had my money, didn't he? He could just go home, leaving the product there, making me sweat.
Should I run for it and grab it?
But I couldn't move. My feet were planted in the ground. I didn't ever want to go any closer than this.
He has your cash, I thought. Go get the product!
He said he had a surprise for me. This better not be it.
Fucker!
As if he'd heard my curses, Tonor reached into his car, shut off the lights, and started walking towards the jeep.
My fear turned to panic, yet I still didn't move. I stood dumbfounded, staring at him in the white glare of my headlights. In all this time, the several years I'd done business with him, he had never approached me, never ventured more than six feet from his vehicle. But, here he was, illuminated by just my headlights now, coming ever closer.
He stopped halfway to detach the toppled backpack from the car and throw it over his shoulder. He left the little car sideways in the dirt.
I had this bizarre urge to dart away like an animal, run back down the road or even escape into the fields to either side, but I resisted. Tonor kept walking towards me, leaning ever-so-slightly forward under the weight of the backpack.
He stopped about ten feet from me, squinting in the bright light, his features blurred by the luminance. His eyes darted left and right, intense concentration plastered across his face. I had this sick idea that he was going to pull out a weapon and snuff me right there. But instead he just stood there, looking in every direction except towards me. A strange sequence of expressions played across his face as his eyes moved, up and down, back and forth.
When he finally spoke, it was in the same mellow tone I'd become used to over the phone, but in hi-fi crystal clear sound.
"I'm actually shocked that's never happened before," he said. "Road gets worse every time."