ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) (25 page)

I realized what I’d just said was deep and pictured myself with that fat Cuban cigar blowing smoke rings. What I didn’t realize is how true what I’d said was and that I was going to be on that same high wire on my own unicycle trying to determine where the demons were.

Bob thought, now I can tell B.J. is reaching too far. It was eerie in the beginning how he could know all of those things about my area though, but now he’s off. It’s not like that where I’m from. We don’t mess around with throwing that fed kind of shit on the airwaves. Too many people have already been made examples of with crime scene tape, chalk and body bags. But, could it be on its way to being like he’s predicting? Bob looked at Paul and wondered why he seemed to be riding the fence on his partner B.J. earlier. It’s probably because he’s scared B.J. is going to take over his business and go directly through me.

I watched Bob decide something and look me directly in the eyes. I felt my plan sliding away from me and wouldn’t let Bob look away.

“B.J., you earned some big points tonight. You saved us from getting busted and losing a lot of product. I’m going to tell my partners in San Berdoo and it’s going to benefit you in the future. But like I said earlier, these things take time; they don’t happen in one night. I’ll also mention you want to invest in the chemicals to get a discounted price…But I can’t make any promises.”

I looked at Bob as hard and determined as I could and realized my grand plans were slipping away. I felt myself having to look at my life without those grand plans and desperately didn’t want to face what was before me. I was desperate. “Bob, check this out!! You’re not going to meet anyone more about the business than me! I just lost $40,000 and my brother to juvenile hall because of some rat. I’ve got nowhere to live, no family to call, and just my instincts to fill the void”

I got up and started pacing and felt like now I was looking like a loose cannon. I’d said earlier that I had a place we could use as a safe house for him to cook dope! I also detected too much whine in my voice and hated myself for it. I tried to fix it by proposing, “Do you have any collections you need made? Anything you need help with? Let me earn some more points to get on the ground floor with you. I need to make this money back I just lost!”

It looked like Bob was thinking about it so I elaborated. “You need something that needs to get handled; I’ll handle it so you don’t have to get your fingerprints on it. I’ll handle it on general principles and make sure it’s a righteous housecleaning!”

I watched Bob nod his head and say, “That’s pretty much how we operate. We don’t get our hands dirty unless it’s personal, like an informant, or someone who bullies a woman or kids.”

That was music to my ears! “I found out the piece of shit that ratted on me also raped a beautiful girl. If I can find him I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life and drop a bunch of L.S.D. in his mouth so his mind never comes back; so he can’t do any more damage to anyone else. Do you need anything like that done on a similar piece of shit so you don’t front yourself off? I could be a resource of yours no one knows about or could identify. On the flip side of that nobody down here knows about you and your partners so you could establish your operation down here.”

That was absolutely all I had left to say. My hustle tank was empty. I stared at Bob and watched him think with my future on the line.

Bob thought, “Something about this B.J. wants me to have him in the car with me. He’s relentless and sharp! Maybe he’s right about a lot of the shit he was saying earlier. It would be nice to open up shop down here where all of the money is. Would I still have all of the doors open for me in San Berdoo..?”.

I watched Bob look at his watch and decide something. “I’ve got to get back to San Berdoo. I have some other business to take care of. Paul, could you go get that package B.J. threw on that boat?”

Paul got up and grabbed a flashlight and I told him exactly where I saw the package land.

I felt Paul’s footsteps rock the boat as he got off.

Bob looked me right in the eyes and said, “B.J. I’ve got a good feeling about you. But I’ve got to tell you, your partner Paul seems to be riding the fence with you.”

Bob grabbed a pen on the table and wrote down a number and handed it to me. “You’re in the car. Call me if you need anything.”

I felt the boat bounce and sway from Paul’s return and watched him climb back down into the cabin and hand Bob the Tupperware container. I got my little bit back and watched Bob cut through the duct tape. He dumped a big pile of speed on the table and used his I.D. and separated a pile to the side.

He slid it towards me and I realized he was giving it to me. “This is for saving our butts tonight. That’s an eye balled half an ounce. I’m going to tell my partners what you did, and what you’re proposing to see how they want to work things out.”

I looked at my free half ounce and was overwhelmed with gratitude. I put it away and glanced at Paul. He didn’t look like he liked it. The benefits that were supposed to go his way were coming to me immediately. I didn’t know what to do so I hugged Bob roughly and lifted him off the ground easily and set him back down. “Thanks for the hook up, it’s very appreciated!”

I looked at Bob and he looked shocked by my display of emotions.

Paul explained his take on it. “It’s the Italian side of his family. His grandfather was a loving gangster from the old days.”

Bob smiled and said, “It’s making sense now. What was your grandfather’s name?”

I responded, “Pistol Pete Cardarastelli.”

Bob asked, “Was he one of those mustache Pete’s from Sicily?”

I nodded my head, happy with the camaraderie we had going.

Paul broke into the Moment with a shocked outburst. “This shit is still wet Bob!”

I looked at Paul leaning over the table and the product. He had his I.D. and was sifting through the pile of speed. I leaned over to get a good look and the rancid odor fumed right into my face. It was so strong I guessed that it had just been cooked. It did look a little moist.

I watched Paul go into a cabinet and come out with a bunch of brown grocery bags. He ripped one open and dumped all of the speed on it. He spread the pile around and we could all see the moisture on the brown bag.

Paul said, “If this is supposed to be a half a pound, it’s going to lose an ounce and a half by the time it’s dry! I don’t know if I even want this shit. It’s on the border.”

I watched Paul grab a diamond sized shard from the pile and drop it on the mirror to have a look at it. He grabbed a magnifying glass out of a drawer and began his examination.

While he did that I did my own examination with the pile Bob gave me. I chopped up some healthy lines and snorted one. It was moist, it hurt in that burning way and felt like some of it was still caked inside my nose. Then I felt the effect. My mind started to sharpen and I realized I had to figure out what my part would be in this dilemma we were in. As I thought about it I realized my teeth were clamped shut and laughed at myself for being such a chiseler.

I handed the other two lines to Paul and Bob to inhale and they did.

While they were doing it, I looked at the shard Paul had on the mirror and picked up his magnifying glass. The shard looked like a canary diamond. It was yellowish and clear at the same time. I snorted the first issue of drip from my line and said, “This shit is strong! But it is a little wet.”

I looked at Bob’s face and saw how frustrated he was. He looked so pissed, it looked like he was having trouble articulating words.

Bob found his voice, “That shit is the lemon drop. It’s better than any of the shit you’ve been getting from me. It’s not going to lose an ounce and a half of weight either!”

Paul shot back, “I know what I’m talking about! I bought some shit just like this from a cook in Oceanside, it lost five grams on every ounce.”

I watched Paul do the math on that prediction and come back with the answer. “On eight ounces, that’s 40 grams, 2 grams under an ounce and a half!”

I looked at Bob and it looked like he was going to pop with frustration. He exploded, “Paul are you going to tell me how dope gets cooked? I’m the freaking cook! Yeah it will lose a little weight if you don’t sell it fast enough, but not 5 grams an ounce! More like a couple grams at the most… I’ve got to get $4,000 for that half pound minus the half ounce I’m eating I gave B.J… I was supposed to bring back $4,400 like I told you on the phone!

I looked at Paul and realized what a grindy business man he was. He didn’t look like he was going to bend. I imagined he might be thinking he had the upper hand on this negotiation because he knew Bob didn’t want to drive back with the product all the way to San Bernardino minus the half ounce he gave me.

I looked at Bob and he didn’t want to bend either. Then they both turned and looked at me.

I grabbed the rest of Paul’s brown bags and asked Bob, “Do you want me to dump it all in another bag to see if it pulls more moisture off the product? Then we can keep transferring it until we’re out of bags and then put a fan on it.”

Bob nodded his head that was okay and said, “Just be careful not to break it up to much. You don’t want it getting powdery. Buyers like seeing the shards.”

While we worked, Bob asked Paul, “Do you have your scale on you?”

Paul checked his pockets and said, “I left it in the Mustang. I’ll go get it.”

As soon as Paul left Bob said, “Your partner was supposed to meet me off the 91 freeway at the halfway point between here and San Berdoo. I’ve got to call my partner Ricky to tell him what’s going on and why I’m so late.”

I watched Bob walk out of the cabin and looked at the pile of speed he was leaving me with that was already in question. I didn’t want the dope to weigh up any lighter than Bob expected it to and then have him wonder if leaving me behind had anything to do with it so I followed him.

On the deck I couldn’t help but listen to Bob talk to Ricky and I felt nosy. I stepped off the boat and walked to the halfway point between Paul’s boat and Paul at his Mustang rooting through his trunk. I realized that there was never a comfortable feeling doing this speed business. That line I had just snorted of the new lemon drop made me feel like I was glowing. I looked at my watch and to my astonishment it was 3 a.m. Where does the time go on this shit?

I watched Paul walk toward me. He was taking furtive glances my way to see what I was doing standing there. As he got to me he said, “I was trying to get him to meet you tonight, but I had to get his okay first.”

I just said, “I understand.”

I could tell that Paul didn’t expect it to be that easy and getting on the boat he said, “You’re a trip.”

Inside the boat we got everything straightened out just as the sun was coming up. I was starting to come down and had to wonder if that new flavor of speed was all that good. Then I thought about the amount of sleep I’d gotten during the week, about the equivalent of two hours a night. Plus the night had been intense. That always seemed to drop the energy level afterward. We came up with an exit strategy for Bob to follow us home on his way to the freeway so he could cover our tail since we were carrying the mother lode. I would pick up my truck later.

In the Mustang I thought about my grand plans. We covered a lot of ground trying to get there but I had to face what kind of business I was in. Could I possibly get Paul in a mechanic shop this way? If I gave up on the idea, I’d have to face reality and there was no way I wanted to do that!

CHAPTER 59

Bob got on the 91 freeway heading east to San Bernardino and rehearsed what he planned to tell Ricky and Tony. Even to his own ears, what happened on Paul’s boat with B.J. coming out of nowhere in time to warn them of the Harbor Patrol, sounded contrived. He thought about the meeting with Ricky so deeply, he imagined the exact spot in Ricky’s grandparents house Ricky would be sitting for the meeting. Bob laughed to himself that it was more like Ricky’s house now that his grandparents were in a home for the elderly. Bob thought, Ricky will probably be at the head of that long dinner table looking like the aggressive shark he is. Bob pictured his dark hair combed straight back over his chiseled angular face, the prominent chin with the deep scar on it, those dark penetrating eyes that were always so alert they seemed to always push others beneath him, sitting there at the head of the table like a boss. Bob even pictured what Ricky would be wearing; that tight black silk shirt that stretched over his body-builder like cut up muscles. Or his black, Dickie button down dress shirt he liked to have buttoned at the collar only, so the rest of the shirt flew open and exposed how shredded his chest and stomach were for more dominance. Then Bob pictured Ricky’s older brother positioned at the table just beneath Ricky on his right. He thought about how Tony was just as good looking and just as built from weights and diligent nutrition, but that’s where it ended. Tony’s personality was more refined and cautious, rather than try to dominate, he was content to observe and be overlooked. He’d probably be wearing something more conservative and probably wouldn’t do much talking. Bob thought about Ricky’s cousin Ernie who was sure to be at the table also. Bob wondered, why does Ricky put up with Ernie? He’s always fucking things up. We’ve trained him how to manufacture the product over and over and he always ruins thousands of dollars worth of product by doing it wrong. Bob thought, it’s probably because Ernie is so faithful and comfortable taking Ricky’s orders and running any errand asked of him. Then Bob thought about how things with Ricky seemed to be changing lately. Ricky had been calling meetings while I’m busy manufacturing the product. It feels like things are happening behind my back that I’m not privy to anymore. Maybe I just need more sleep and I’m imagining it all.