by K. L Randis
“I want my fucking information about the drug dealer you promised me. I’m not helping you figure out shit until you give me something,” Jared replied, choking over his words as he struggled to find his voice.
The knuckles on Dex’s hands tightened, glossing over with red. He smiled though, and relaxed his hand after a moment. “Of course, Jared. Fair is fair.”
He moved to the side of the desk on the far wall, pulling out a piece of paper from one of the squeaky side drawers. He started towards Jared, stopped, then turned on his heels and headed back towards the desk. One finger to the side of his nose, he inhaled an impressive line of Lace that Jared hadn’t noticed sitting there.
Jared’s eyes widened. He didn’t think Dex would be the kind of person to dabble in his own product.
“That’s more like it,” Dex said, wiping his nose and blotting his watery eyes. “Here Jared, your information on the car the dealer was known to be driving.”
Purple Civic hatchback, lowered with carbon fiber hood
22” wheels, dent in passenger side quarter panel
Last seen at The 12 Bar, Mountain Rd
He could barely read Dex’s scrawled handwriting but he pocketed the napkin it was written on. “When was it last seen at the bar?” Jared asked.
“I’m not a miracle worker, you know. Maybe try visiting the bar yourself. Now if we could I’d like to get back to business.”
Jared nodded. Visiting the bar wasn’t a bad idea. He could probably find out more information than Dex walking in there and asking around. Jared was learning that he wasn’t exactly a people person.
“You’re using just the girls?” Jared asked.
“For now, yes.”
“Use guys and girls, you’ll do double the damage. Girl’s can’t be seen going into the boys bathrooms if you know what I mean. It’ll limit your buyers if you just use females.”
“And how would you propose we do that Jared? It’s not like these boys can walk around with soft bristled hair brushed to store their products.”
“Use their bellybuttons.”
“Their what?” Dex asked, amused.
“If they put the pills in their bellybuttons and tape over it they can carry at least five pills on them at all times. Sometimes the schools do random metal detector days, the selected buses have to drop the kids off by the cafeteria and they are scanned before going to class. They wouldn’t be flagged if they used the wand on them because the cavity of their bellybutton would keep everything flush and inconspicuous. Girl’s have their bellybuttons pierced so they can get away with fitting in more and not having anyone be the wiser.”
“You’re serious?” Dex asked, swirling his glass.
“You want to make money or not? It’s the best way to keep the product on them without raising suspicions to what they’re carrying around. If they put a small piece of cloth between the tape and the pills there’s no risk of any part of the pill getting stuck to the tape.”
“Slightly disgusting,” Dex said slowly, “at the same time it’s genius. We’ll get on this right away. Excellent idea. So how are we going to address the larger volume of product that needs to get transported throughout the county. We need something cheap and easy, something that won’t raise suspicions.”
“Oh so no moving trucks with the words Lace Inside marked on it?” Jared replied dryly.
“Funny, but no. None of that. What about hidden compartments in the trunks of everyone’s car?”
“Too obvious. That’s the first place anyone looks,” Jared said.
“Okay, somewhere underneath the car maybe? A box secured to the bottom?”
“Are you willing to risk our guys never hitting a pot hole? We live in the Poconos and have two seasons here, winter and potholes.”
“So what exactly would your contribution to this dilemma be then?” Dex asked, losing patience.
“VHS tapes,” Jared said suddenly, looking up with a smile on his face.
“How would they be any help to us, do they even make those anymore?”
“Exactly, no one wants them. They sell them by the box load at the flea market in Saylorsburg. They’re useless. Except to us.” He remembered when Troy taught him the trick with the VHS tapes. He was sure he would have been sent to rehab sooner if his mom knew the amount of drugs he kept in his room because of them.
“Are you talking about the VHS cases, those plastic ones? What just fill them up? That’s not a bad idea.”
“That’s a terrible idea, anyone could open it and see what’s inside,” Jared said. “I mean the actual tape part. They come apart pretty easy if you know what you’re doing, you just leave enough of the black tape to run across the top to make it appear genuine if anyone flips open the flappy part.”
“The flappy part, I’ll drink to that,” Dex said raising his glass.
“Take out most of the guts inside the tape and I’d bet you could fit at least fifty to seventy pills inside there. Do the math if we can get our hands on forty or so VHS tapes at the flea market.”
“And if you’re stopped?” Dex asked.
“They can stay out in the open, right on the back seat. Pack the tapes enough that the pills won’t rattle around if someone shakes it and all you have a Good Samaritan on his way to donate a box of VHS tapes somewhere. Then we can reuse the tapes over and over to transport back and forth. The only cost would be a couple of bucks for the tapes initially.”
“You’re an out-of-the-box thinker, you know that Jared? Very resourceful, such fresh ideas come out of that head sometimes,” Dex said, smiling.
“I’ll drink to that,” Jared said, forcing himself to swallow the last of his wine.
CHAPTER TEN
Jared put off calling Hailey the next day, mainly because he had no idea what to say. What he felt and what he could offer were two completely different beasts. His plate was about to get overloaded with the new push into the school districts so he wasn’t sure he had the time to deal with all the things that had been left unsaid between them anyway. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself as he pulled into the parking lot of The 12 Bar the next night.
The 12 sat right off of Mountain Road but looked more like a rundown Inn than a bar. The locals preferred it that way, filing in after their long days to sit around the modest interior and look off into the distance while old country played on the touchscreen jukebox the owner sprang for two summers ago. The jukebox was a blessing in disguise. As much as the older men who frequented the bar enjoyed the company of familiar faces during the work week, Friday and Saturday nights were becoming a hot spot for the younger local adults to play pool and fill the room with louder, more modern country music and sometimes even hip hop.
At first the owner was concerned about losing his faithful regulars to the new noise, but as long as the younger women kept showing up in cut-off jeans in the summer and fake cowboy boots in the winter they didn’t mind. In fact they looked forward to it, spending more than they usually would to send drinks across the bar that would never be appreciated.
Jared used to go to The 12 with Troy almost every week. They’d meet around six and have a few beers, listening to the older men complain about taxes or their wives while they ate steaks. It was a ritual that died with Troy.
The 12 was one of the only non-smoking bars in the area, mainly because the owner had severe asthma and couldn’t pour what was on tap if he couldn’t breathe. Jared pulled back a faded, yellow vinyl stool from underneath the bar and sat down next to a man in overalls and flannel. He nodded at Jared and grunted into his beer.
The usual menu of Delmonico steak, quesadillas and hot wings was posted on the neon announcement board. A man in a paramedic uniform stepped inside just as the bartender slid a beer in front of Jared. He surveyed the bar deciding where to sit when he caught Jared’s glance and did a double take, crossing the sticky linoleum with a wide grin.
“Holy Jesus himself, you back from the dead man?” said Jon, reaching out his hand and p
atting Jared firmly on the back. He reached under the bar with one finger and pulled a stool out next to him, nodding to the guy in flannel beside him. “What’s up Pat?”
“No but really,” Jon said, redirecting his attention to Jared as he motioned for the bartender to pour him one of whatever Jared was drinking, “I haven’t seen you here in ages. Good to see you man.”
“Yeah same here man, glad to see things haven’t changed much,” Jared said. He was genuinely happy to see Jon, he was famous for busting on Troy for his lack of pool skills or challenging Jared to an unofficial game of who-can-drink-the-most. There was nothing but good memories. He missed social aspect of it too he realized, surrounded by guys that didn’t give a shit who he was while sipping a cold one. Sometimes it was all he needed to find his center again.
“Shit, I’m sorry about your sister, Lacey right? Hits close to home when I hear calls over dispatch of people I know. I’m kinda glad I wasn’t there to see that, no offense, it’s always harder when you know the people, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear you. It’s okay, I understand,” Jared said. He tried to dismiss the image from his own head.
“But hey, here’s to moving forward right? Didn’t mean to bring up anything deep,” Jon said, his eyes apologetic.
“It is what it is, can’t go back in time,” Jared said, surprised at his own depressing tone. “I’m actually looking for someone. Someone I used to be buddies with a while ago, must have changed his number cause I can’t reach him. He drives a purple Civic with a carbon fiber hood. Have you seen it parked outside lately?”
Jon all but choked on his beer. “Man I got a 78 Ford sitting outside, doesn’t sound like the kind of car I’d take notice to.”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“Chris might know though,” Jon said, flicking a thumb in the direction of the bartender. “Hey Chris, get your scrawny ass over here and do something useful would ya?”
“The hell you say to me?” Chris barked back, putting the glass he was drying down on the bar. He smiled and made his way over to Jon. “What do you want you lazy ass in-bred?”
“Oh nothing much, a million dollars perhaps, and a piece of that sweet ass woman you go home to every night.” Jon winked and puckered his lips.
“You’re an arrogant one huh?” Chris said, chuckling.
“Hey you ever seen a purple Civic hanging around outside? Got some kind of carbon fiber hood.”
“Who’s askin?” Chris said, putting the glass down and eyeing Jared.
“He’s all right,” Jon said, nodding his head in Jared’s direction. “He’s looking for his buddy, he’s been away a while. So you seen it?”
“Yeah, it’s been around a few times.”
Jared could hear his own heartbeat. He wanted to let Jon do all the talking since he seemed guarded about any information he gave out, so he dragged his tongue along the inside of his teeth as he waited for more answers.
“Come in here often? Got an idea of where he’s been livin’?” Jon asked
“Nah nothing like that. See him once or twice in the past few months, stupid car though that’s the only reason I remember. Always wears the same kinda shirt with one of those label things on it though, says ‘Primo’s Tobacco’.”
“Oh no kidding,” Jon replied, tipping the glass draft to his lips, “that place out in Stroudsburg huh?”
“Yeah I’m guessing. That all or you wanna play harass the bartender some more?” Chris smiled again.
“Nah man thanks, get me another beer though when you’re not too busy doing nothing,” Jon said.
Chris grunted in response, making his way over to a beefy woman waving him down for another Coors Light.
“So Primo’s Tobacco, you know it? I think it’s the only tobacco place in Stroudsburg, can’t be hard to find. I’m guessing your buddy works there. Only about twenty or so miles from here.”
“Yeah, thanks man. Appreciate it.”
Jared resisted the urge to leave the bar right away and head to Stroudsburg. Just in case he needed to come back with more questions he wanted to make sure Jon wouldn’t feel burned about playing middle guy for him. “Let me buy your next one,” Jared said, nodding towards his half empty glass.
“Sure, I won’t turn down an offer like that. So what have you been up to?”
“Working mostly,” Jared said, “keeping busy like I should I guess.
“That’s good, better than most people around here. Can’t believe the calls we’ve been getting in the past year or two. Everyone who’s everyone is doped up on something. All of the same crap too.”
“Yeah what’s that?”
Jared let the beer slide down his throat, laughing to himself as he anticipated listening to a person unknowing to his world talk about Lace.
“It’s that awful green heroin everyone’s overdosing on. It used to be a little less potent but whoever decided to re-visit their formula is really pushing an agenda through this place.”
“What do you mean green heroin? Aren’t people just growing drug muscles and overdosing?”
Jared recalled the little baggies in the Nike shoe box he had stowed away the night Lacey died. One thing that stood out was the seemingly green tinge to it. He thought maybe it was the lighting in the room, an improved formula or maybe a combination of the two.
“Not at all man, that’s the thing. The people using don’t even see it coming. Some kind of laced heroin, it’s got something called fentanyl in it. Shit’s more powerful than morphine. It’s popping up all over the place, wiping people out like the damn black plague. My buddy in toxicology says it’s all coming from the same place, same chemical makeup and everything. Keep that between me and you though man, I ain’t even really supposed to say that much about it. Police haven’t been able to trace anything back to anyone. It’s bad man.”
The knot in Jared’s stomach exploded. Heroin was potent enough without someone harboring malevolence to make it even more deadly. The heroin Jared had injected was laced with fentanyl, it had to have been, which is why the small amount he pushed had knocked him on his ass so fast and hard. It was infuriating and relieving at the same time. If he’d taken a hit of the normal stuff, Lacey might still be alive today. At the same time, he found comfort in knowing that he wasn’t overdoing it when he filled his needle that night. He did exactly what Troy had showed him thousands of times; it was the dirty product that was at fault, not the amount he had injected.
“Hey man you okay? You’re not looking so good,” Jon said, eyeing Jared.
“Yeah,” Jared said, pushing his beer away, “Too much too fast, you know?”
“Oh yeah, been there.”
Jared’s priorities shifted. The dealer who had supplied him with the fentanyl-laced heroin either did or didn’t know that he was pushing a more deadly product to its customers. He needed to find this guy. Tonight.
He checked his watch. Ten o’clock.
The tobacco plant in Stroudsburg would be closed. There would be no sense in driving all the way there until morning.
“So how’s it going with that lady of yours?” Jon asked, changing subjects.
“Oh you know, it’s complicated,” Jared said. He was only half concentrating on what Jon was saying while his mind spun, “I don’t know what she wants. Hell I don’t even know what I want anymore, makes it a little harder to figure out where to go from there ya know?”
“Nope, haven’t had a girlfriend in years. So you want to marry Tina or what?”
“What?” Jared asked. Tina’s name forced him to refocus on the conversation.
“Yeah Tina right? Or are you with someone else now? You always did have them after you, you know. Could pick anyone you damn well pleased.”
“Tina? Oh, I mean…Yeah. Tina.”
He wasn’t talking about Tina when Jon had asked him how his lady was. He automatically—and unintentionally— thought of Hailey. Why would he do that? Hailey wasn’t even his girlfriend; he wasn’t sure where he stood with
her at all really. Maybe that was the problem. He was sitting there talking to Jon like he had nowhere better to be.
“Jon uh, I got to go man. I just realized something and I uh…yeah.” Jared threw a twenty down on the bar as he pushed his stool in and headed towards the door. “Next few beers are on me. See you around sometime soon okay?”
“Oh okay man, sure, you go on home and relax. Get that beer to stay down. I’ll see you around, sure.”
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, searching for a signal as he walked to his car. Two bars of green lit up in the top right corner and he smiled, clicking over to the favorites on his phone and editing the name of a contact.
After correcting the name he brought the phone to his ear. Tired of hiding and pushing things aside, he hoped that the years of suppressing what he felt would be well received.
The reflection of the phone call emulated on the glass as he looked out the car window, his heart thudding against his chest when he read the reflection of the name back to himself:
HAILEY.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The car barely touched the ground as the back tires slid across the dirt road, charging towards the farmhouse. Jared wasn’t sure how Dex would handle him showing up unannounced but he didn’t care. The switchblade his dad had given him for his eighteenth birthday was snug in his front pocket. This time Jared wasn’t leaving without answers.
Time was of the essence, so when the car kicked into park Jared bound up the farmhouse steps two-by-two and heaved his right shoulder into the door as he turned the knob. Thankfully it was unlocked. Before Dex could utter a word, Jared was in the living room, his hands around his throat and the switchblade inches from his eyes.