Clockwork Romance (2 page)

“Wow,” she said, with that post coitus smile on her face. “That was great. Thank you.” She was breathing heavily, but
not too heavily, just enough from a modest workout. However, I am confused. I always act like this afterwards. I need to quit acting so surprised. Still, that didn’t stop me from making a plea.

“Where are you going?” I asked, as Bibi walks around the room, picking up
her clothes from the floor.

“Oh,” she says, sliding her panties back on, “I thought we were both just looking for some late night fun. You helped me get over my boyfriend, I can tell you that. I gotta say, you’re rea
lly good at what you do.” She went on some more while continuing to get dressed. I feel like I’m hearing the same speech I’ve heard countless times before. Not once did she look me in the eye, at least not until she was fully dressed. She then walked to my side of the bed and sat down next to me. Without saying a word, she leaned in slowly and gave me a kiss on the lips, the first of the entire night. To me, it felt more than just a simple goodbye kiss, like maybe there was a chance between us. But there I go getting my hopes up again.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, standing up, then walking towards the door. She turned off the lamp before she went out, leaving me alone with the moonlight once again. I wanted to say something to her before she left, but I didn’t want to ruin such a sentimental moment. Even if I never see Bibi again, which is the most likely case, she did give me something more important. I can’t really think of what it is at the moment
, but all I know is that I feel okay. No regret, no shame, but rather a feeling that everything was going to be okay. I can’t say I’m used to that. Now I can find that girl, whoever she may be, somewhere out there and waiting for me to find her… or her to find me, whichever comes first.

Sleeping is now a lot easier, for tonight that is. Who would have guessed that a one night stand could inspire someone so much? I suppose it depends on the situation, with tonight being a prime example. I turn my head to look at the clock again. 2:30 on the dot. I close my eyes, letting the silence soothe me to sleep.

Chapter 2

Morning. Daylight at least. I open my eyes to a white ceiling. This morning I feel good, unlike most other mornings, or days, or night
s. My walls don’t judge me and I don’t judge myself. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. My mind doesn’t race. I guess I sort of miss Bibi, but I also guess that there has to be a point to what happened last night. Otherwise, I wouldn’t feel so… okay.

I realize that I’m still naked. I can see my clothes scattered on the floor where they were one joined by Bibi’s. I look over at the clock. It says 10:56 a
.m. Usually, I don’t wake up that late, but today I have a reason. Not because I was up so late, but because I was actually able to have a good night’s sleep. A luxury, remember? So I decide to do something, and start by getting out of bed and picking my clothes off the floor.

When I was done, I put on some fresh clothes, consisting of plaid pajama pants and a pocket t-shirt. That’s all I pretty much
wear when hanging around my apartment. But I don’t think I always woke up naked, with my clothes scattered everywhere. Most of the time, it’s just me living a lonely life inside my apartment. I mean, I have no problem going out and going places, it’s just that I don’t prefer it, not as much as I used to. I wish I had someone to take places. Man, look at me, feeling sorry for myself again. My attitude may have changed a little, but my train of thought is still the same.

Anyway, I was just about to go out and get something to eat, when I heard a knock at my door. Could it be? Could she have returned? For a moment, I hesitated w
hile gathering my thoughts, then quickly walked to open the door. Once the door was open, I saw that the person on the other side was not who I expected. I recognized this man as one of the city’s top socialites, not the top, but somewhere near. People like him were always coming around to my place, and sometimes I would go to them. But I wouldn’t call any of them friends, just casual acquaintances. This guy’s name was Brandon Harris.

“Hey Luke,” he said casually.

“Hey… Come on in.”

He was wearing a dark suit, like he was on his way to a business meeting. But he always dressed like that. I’m not too sure what he does for a living; I think his father owns something. Brandon looks a little older than me, with a bad boy look. I don’t ask too many questions about people, nor they to me. But occasionally, people like to make small talk. Some people like to thank me by inviting me to parties and whatnot.

“I just stopped by for some dust,” Brandon said. By that he meant cocaine. I deal cocaine and heroin, and I make a pretty damn good living off it too. I started a long time ago, a little after high school through some people I knew back then. That’s another long story. It doesn’t matter now. I was smart, and I was good.

I shut the door before he asked. No one needs to know our business. I walk over to the chest on the opposite side of the room, next to my flat screen television.

“How much you need?” I ask while opening the chest.

“Let me get three grams of the Mexican shit you got,” he responded, taking a seat in my couch and taking a wad of cash out from his inside jacket pocket. “There’s a party tonight and I wanna make sure I have a good time.
”

“Oh yeah?” I said back as I measured out the coke from the previously mentioned chest. The chest next to it on the right is where I kept the heroin. A lot of people like to speedball, so sometime I’ll get customers who buy both.
“What kind of party?”

“The kind with girls, coke, booze, and more girls. You wanna stop by? There’ll be plenty of them to go around.”

“Uh…” I returned, sounding it out through my teeth.

“Come on, it’s at my place. What else you got going on tonight? Whatever it is, is it better than hooking up with a drunk hot piece of ass, maybe two, or three? I don’t know what you’re into, but whatever you are into, I guarantee there’ll be a few girls there who are into the same thing. How ‘bout it?”

I turned around with the threes gram tied in a plastic baggie in hand. “If I don’t have anything better to do,” I tell him, handing over the coke in exchange for three one-hundred dollar bills. A hundred a gram. I only sold grade A products.

With a smirk on
his face, Brandon replied, “I’ll take that as a yes,” standing up and almost turning around to leave, when I mentioned, “You wanna see this new shit I got?” I nodded to the chest containing the heroin.

             
“What new shit?” Brandon asks, not sure what I was talking about, like he was an expert on all the varieties of heroin.

             
“It’s pretty new…” I say, opening the chest, “…Straight from Deutschland.”  Deutschland meaning Germany in case you didn’t know. “It’s called indigo.”

             
“Indigo?” Brandon repeated. He had never heard of it before. Of course he hadn’t, that was the point of me telling him it was new.

             
“However…” I said, “… it is a little more expensive than some of the other stuff I got.” An impressed look come upon Brandon’s face. I continued, “It’s four hundred a gram, a little steeper than the others, but… after you shoot it, the first thing to go through your mind was that it was money well spent. Then a whole bunch of other shit goes through your mind. I myself have only tried it once, and shortly after, I felt like I was ready to rule the fucking universe.”

             
“Wow,” Brandon said with amazement, like a dog staring at a bone.

             
“Now you know the rest of what I got is real… real… real good shit. But this one…” I say, holding up a sample baggie, “… takes the fucking cake.”

             
Brandon scratched his head for a second. “Okay, give me two grams. And if it’s as good as you make it out to be, you better show up at the party tonight.”

             
“Heh,” I laughed, “That is if you can even remember.” Brandon chuckled back as he takes a seat back on my couch while I measure out the indigo. “You know, I met a girl last night,” I said.

             
“Oh yeah? What was she like?” he asked.

             
“Very nice. For like, the past couple of nights, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, but…” I turn my head to face Brandon. “…last night I had no problem. Her name was Bibi”

             
“Bibi,” he repeats, “So where’s she now?”

             
“Gone.” I finish putting the indigo in a balloon and turn around to give it to Brandon. “Unfortunately, she turned out to be nothing more than a one night stand. I was looking for something more, but… she wasn’t.” I hand Brandon the indigo as he hands me the money, then he says, “All the more reason to come and hang out tonight. Who knows, you might even meet the next girl of your dreams there.”

             
“Perhaps,” I return, giving a sarcastic look.

             
“Well I thank you for the coke and the, uh, indigo,” he says, heading once again to the door, as I respond, “Take it easy.”

As he leaves, I peek out into the hallway, first the direction Brandon is walking, then the other. At the end of the hallway to the left, I see a brunette woman walking down the hall, away from me. I only see her from behind, but what I notice is her magnificent body.
The light in the hallway is pretty dim, not as bright as it is in my apartment. I watch her as she walks. She’s wearing jeans and a dark blouse. I only wish that I could see her face. She turns to walk down the stairwell and I only catch a brief side view of her before she was completely gone. I don’t think much about it, so I go back inside and close the door.

You might be wondering about my drug dealing business, and that I may be an addict myself. Rest assured I’m not, actually I really only use if I need to or want to, which is not all that often. I’ve never been addicted and I never use any of my own stash. I know the difference between making money and being stupid. I get loyal and, a lot of times, rich customers because I’m good at what I do, or else I’d be one of those idiots who stand on street corners waiting to get busted.
And, of course, I invest in protection. I always keep a handgun on me in case I’m ever in a situation where I’ll need it, which has happened before. But let’s not go there. The one I have I take with me wherever I go where I may need it. For now, I go back to my chests and lock them back up. I know too many of the right people to get busted. This is a pretty big town, and I’m not really the biggest on the food chain. That’s not to say I have rivals, because this a friendly business after all. I’m just a guy working from home, not Tony Montana.

For the next few hours, I just lounge around my apartment, occasionally making money from coke and heroin deals. On average, I’d say I make about a grand a day. Some I spend, but most I save. How else would I be able to afford all of the nice things in my place?

In the middle of the afternoon, I walk up the steps to get to my door. I’ve just gotten back from getting some lunch. It is about four o’ clock and I am ready to eat.  I gotta say I’m a sucker for a nice cheeseburger. Standing at the outside of my door, before I went inside, I look in the direction in which that girl from earlier was walking. No one. No one was there now. Maybe some other time I’ll find out who that mystery brunette was. I walk into my apartment, setting the food on the coffee table and taking a seat on the couch, turning on the television while taking my shoes off using only my feet.

And just like clockwork, my phone rings right as I finis
h eating. I don’t save anyone’s number in my phone, instead I just memorize numbers belonging to any important people who may call me. This was a number that I did recognize. The man who the number belonged to was named Bruce. Bruce Carrigan.

“Hello?” I said, offering the protocol gesture.

“Luke, it’s Bruce,” he said. I already knew that much. All I needed to know what he wanted, and how much he wanted. “Listen, I need you to get me a kilo of coke. Can you do it? What am I saying? Of course you can.”

“Yeah, sure,” I tell him. Selling cocaine by the kilo was big money. I don’t usually turn down those kind of deals.

“Good. Bring it to the club as soon as you can.”

“Yeah,” I respond, before hanging up. The club he was referring to was Red. It was Bruce’s club, and he’s a pretty powerful man. Bruce is the kind of man who has bodyguards who do everything he commands at the snap of his fingers. But the only thing going through my head was the money. A deal like thi
s would be worth about twenty thousand dollars. The last time I sold a kilo was about a month ago. I still have money left over from that deal. You must be thinking why the hell I’m in college when I’m making this kind of money. To be honest, I don’t know. I guess I just want something to keep me busy. And I like meeting new people. New people to sell to, new people to help me make my living. So it’s okay. I never kept more than what was in my chests in my apartment. I’m definitely not that stupid. Instead there was another place where I kept my other stash. My real stash.

I put on a hoodie, because believe it or not, it was cold outside, despite it being May. I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs. Around the corner of the building, there was an alley that ran between my building and some other old buildings. I’m not too sure what those other old buildings actually are, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone go in and out of them.

About halfway down the alley, there is a lot off to the side, covered with only grass, stones, and dirt. In one corner of the lot, there was an area covered with piles of dirt and sticks which would otherwise go unnoticed to anyone who happened to walk by. But that corner has a secret. I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is walking by, which would be unusual, but not impossible. Periodically, I would rest my hand on my 9mm in my waistband. I forgot to mention that I grabbed it before leaving my room. But it was necessary. I’m not afraid to say that I have had to use my gun before on one occasion. Still, I’m not quite comfortable telling that story just yet.

I grab a shovel hidden underneath some leaves. With the shovel, I move the sticks and dirt out of the corner to reveal a door in the ground. With my hands, I move the remaining dirt out of the way. There was a lock on the door, one that only I have the key to open.
I open it, pull out my flashlight, and take one more look to make sure nobody is around. I jump inside, shutting the door behind me. The roof was only inches above my head, the room being only as big as a walk-in fridge. But this unknown underground area contains kilos upon kilos of cocaine and heroin. There is enough to retire in Beverly Hills for the rest of my life. Why don’t I? I guess I don’t want the attention. My flashlight pans around the room to lighten up all of my products. In case there is any confusion or doubt floating around, I didn’t just magically find them all. Some I stole… a lot I stole. This was back in another time, another state, from people I don’t even know or care to see again. Like I said, I’m good at what I do.

I grab the one I came down here for, put it in my jacket, along with my flashlight, and slightly open the door to make sure one last time that I was still alone. The coast was clear. I climb out, relock the door, and put the sticks and dirt back to where they were, leaving the lot looking exactly the way it was before I came.