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Authors: S. W. Frank

BOOK: Anarchy
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Th
is was a predawn shipment. Cops were often asleep or changing shifts at this time. Th
e
n, after their briefing, they’d stop to get coffee, to wake
them
before hitting the
streets on
patrol, by then
the trucks were on the road, halfway to its destination.

The demand
for the special
ty
product grew
, so did profits.
Millions of dollars poured in
each month
, a lucrative haul for a simple
formulary
whipped up by
a
greedy
chemist
. The last of the trucks
rumble
d
down the dock
and
he
climbed inside
the
shiny black car, settling
beside his
stern-face
boss.

Boris brokered
each
deal on Dominick’s behalf. The int
erested buyers were eager
to partake in a commodity with a guaranteed high yield of return. They were surprised by the success of their new revenue stream and began requesting greater quantities, for which they were completely willing to pay. In Florida, Don
Fiorello
didn’t
employ
corner street
drug-dealer
s
, no
way;
his pushers were licensed pharmacists
behind counters of legitimate businesses
. Many, already s
old
pain medication to junkies,
and dispensing Dominick’s drug was only another service they offered. Of course, their incentive was money.
Greed
is an untamed monster once it gets a taste of something good. What can you
say,
s
upply and demand
is the
basics of economics
, right? The more the people want, the more you supply
.

Dominick said n
othing as the vehicle rolled away from the unloading area. His piercing brown eyes remained straight ahead
. He finally
broke the silence
when they cleared the area
,
“H
ow’s the deal coming along
?”


We close
d last week
.”

Dominick
nodded, “Good.”

Boris served as middle-man, none of the buyers met Dominick or knew his identity; anonymity was preferable
. He didn’t consider himself a drug dealer, the word alone held a negative connotation. He preferred the term pharmacist. He simply filled
the prescription for the human ailment.
Hypocrisy.

Every major dealer on the west coast was pushing
the product
and the coded messages on the social networks assisted in spreading the word.
Th
eir product
was now in major cities, being distributed and sold by low ranking underlings to suburban
kids attending
Ivy League
college
s.
Sons and daughters of politicians and lawmakers.
Children of the same rich white elitist who took bribes under tables
, prospered from insider trading deals and stole money from the pension funds of hard-working Americans
, yet sought to crush La
Costra
Nostra.

They fooled the masses with their silvery tongues, ha
d Americans fighting each other, meanwhile
they stole, lied and cheated,
and
held themselves out as examples of morality. Dominick
scoffed,
let the bastards get a taste of their own medicine!

Money laundering, loan-sharking, illegal gambling and prostitution weren’t
as
lucrative
with
The
Organized
Crime T
ask Force
cutting the mob off at the knees
. The time arrived for the syndicate to
exert their presence
and regain prominence once more
–but first he needed to quickly amass money, lots of it
.

It’
s
ironic,
he
formulated the
idea from watching how easy it was for his pill popping wife to get hold of prescription drugs. She ate them like candy
until she
sedated herself into
sweet heaven
.

Money bought people
, d
octors,
cops,
lawyers, pharmacists and even politicians.
Money also bought allies
;
he gained several with this new venture.

Boris spoke, “
The message was delivered.”

“Wonderful
, w
onderful.”

A wide smile transformed the stern face. He could sit back and watch the fun begin.

 

 

 

CHAPTER
EIGHT

 

 

 

“How do I look?”
Jessica asked.

Emilio lifted his head
to see the outfit
then shoved his
cell
back in
his
pocket
after checking his messages
.
Jessica stood
in the center of the hotel room wearing
a short blue dress and bright platform shoes. His eyes traveled up her shapely tan legs and settled on her pretty face. He tried to stay impassive, after-all the pretty young woman was his boss’ cousin.

Impatiently, s
he tossed her brown hair with blonde highlights to one side
to glare at him,
“Well?”

“You look nice.”

“Nice?”

Emilio shrugged,
“Yes, what’s wrong with nice?”

She frowned, “Everything. I
wanna
look hot
,
not nice
!”

His eyes exhibited no outward emotion.
Jessica was hot…too damn hot!

This was the sixth outfit she modeled. She’d asked him to help decide what to wear tonight and when he declined, she simply entered through the adjoining petition into his hotel
room carrying a load of clothes. He felt uncomfortable but went along, that is until he realized she was making him aroused.


Time to go.”
He stood
and gestured
, “
Take your stuff and go back to your room. You’re turning my down time into a
fucking fitting room
.”

“Hold up a minute,” she said then darted into the bathroom leaving Emilio standing there
with a scowl.

Jessica
and her friends were a handful. He’d spent yesterday following a group of wild young women around at the beach
. The blonde hair one Beth was the worst.
The cute perky blonde from a privileged home
lacked
moral values.
Promiscuous
and undoubtedly
an angel in the eyes of her doting parents.
Her continuous flirtations were
annoying,
the chick just couldn’t take a hint. He didn’t like her…
one bit
.

He shuffled his feet listening to Jessica moving about in the bathroom. Emilio frowned, t
he truth
is,
he
liked Jessica
.
Tonight he was escorting
her and her wild friends
to a rave, yes a rave, not a salsa club but a party with a bunch of
unruly
college kids,
screaming and acting like fools.
He hated the scene
because most of the kids were flying high on something
or passing out from heat and alcohol.
He preferred a Latin or Hip Hop
club
,
at
least there you’d
have
good dance mu
sic and not the alternative funk or techno. The killer part, he had to suffer through hours of watching a bunch of uncoordinated, rhythm deficient clubbers jerking on the dance floor like they’d gotten electrocuted or something.
However,
he was getting paid
to watch after
Jessica
and if she wanted to go he’d take her.

“Come on Jessica,
get out of there
!” He grumbled
.

She emerged from the bathroom wearing a different
outfit. The
party
dress revealed more cleavage and a lot more skin.

His mouth dropped open an
d he coughed trying to hide his
reaction
.


Now
,
this
dress makes me look
hot
, right?

He couldn’t
tear his eyes away
.
She was smiling at him, moving
seductively
closer
,
intentionally seeking to ignite the spark in his groin.
The palm of her hand
touched hi
s cheek and singed his flesh.
What
the hell
i
s she doing? His mind screamed
.


Dame
u
n
beso
.”

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