by Mitch Goth
Rain put the journal away and was close to drifting off to sleep when a swift set of knocks came at her door. This time around though, no voice came through before the door swung open, flooding the room with light from the hall and rudely ending Rain's attempt at slumber. There standing in the doorway was the tall, still just as stylish silhouette of Vin.
"Wake up, Rain," he instructed strolling into the room, followed shortly after by Ben, "you've got work to do."
"Work? What?" she sat up in a fatigued confusion.
"Work, you know, that thing most people do everyday," Vin retorted smartly.
"Yeah, everyday, its the middle of the damn night right now," Rain got off the bed slowly.
"That's when we work," Ben pointed out. "What we're doing can't really be done during the day."
"What exactly are we doing?" Rain looked to him, puzzled.
Ben didn't reply, he only pulled a large, very full bag out of his jacket. He tossed the bag into Rain's grasp and that's when she finally realized what it was. A gallon sized zip-lock bag filled to the very top with the orange triangular drugs.
"Someone's gotta sell it," Ben shrugged.
"And one of those people has to be you," Vin added.
"You've got to be kidding," she groaned, handing the bag back to Ben. "I don't know the first thing about selling drugs."
"It's just like selling knives, or insurance, there's nothing to it," Ben assured optimistically.
"Exactly," Vin nodded with a grin. "And just like selling knives, it doesn't work without a demonstration. You're the only one who's had it demonstrated to them, so you need to go along. You're the only person who can sell this for all its worth."
"What exactly is it worth?" Rain inquired.
"Well, there's two thousand pills in that bag," Vin explained. "We're planning on selling at twenty-five bucks a pill, so that makes the going rate for a bag..." he hummed for a moment as he turned to Ben, who only shrugged.
"Fifty thousand dollars?" Rain was astounded.
"That sounds about right," Vin nodded. "Well, we've gotta give the wholesalers some room for profit, so to us it's worth about forty."
"That bag is worth forty thousand dollars? Nobody is gonna buy that," Rain said with a laugh.
"Think about it, Rain," Ben implored. "Two thousand pills, that's like five years worth if you use one a day. Only twenty-five bucks a piece."
"Only twenty-five bucks," Rain scoffed. "That's too high, how can you not see you need to start lower?"
"That is low," Vin replied. "We've got you to sell it, and at two thousand of them, that gives room for a free sample for the buyer. As for the users who are gonna buy them from the wholesalers, they're easily convinced. And what about you? If you had twenty-five dollars to spare right now, what would you buy? Some weed? Some crappy beer? Or maybe a pill of long lasting euphoria, maybe you'd buy some of that wonderful Delicate Rain everyone's talking about. You know its worth every penny and then some."
"Yeah," she nodded, knowing he was right.
"So let's go and sell this stuff," Ben said. "Let's start makin' some real money."
"Alright, I'm awake anyway," Rain sighed, following Ben out of the room.
"Bring back that money or don't come back," Vin called playfully. Despite his light-hearted tone, he could sense that it managed to land seriously in Ben's mind. Exactly his intention.
17