Clockwork Romance Page 2

  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 nights. 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 while 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 finish 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 this 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.

  I make my way back to my car on the other side of the apartment building. I drove a black dodge challenger with two gold racing stripes, courtesy of my day job. Better yet, the car is completely paid off. I paid for it all in cash. The look on the salesman’s face was picture worthy when I told him that I wasn’t a fan of making payments.

  When I reach my car, I take another look over both of my shoulders. Everything is good. There is no one around. I quickly toss the kilo in the trunk and close it. I get in my car, then drive off, my heart beating no faster than normal. Bruce’s bar was on the other side of town. That’s just like him to be making me do something like this for him. But I have to remember that this is a drive worth twenty grand, so I think I can manage to forgive him.

  On the way there, I come to a red light. Who do you think pulls up right behind me as I’m stopped here? A cop. A fucking cop. How fucking coincidental. There’s no need for me to get nervous. He doesn’t care who I am. This is what I keep repeating to myself to keep myself cool. The green light comes on. I make a right turn, while the cop goes straight. See, nothing to worry about.

  I make it to Red in about twenty minutes. I pull into a parking space right outside the front door. I pull out my phone to text Bruce that I’ve arrived. Once I send the message, I delete it from my phone. Bruce himself comes out the front door with a smirk on his face and a satchel in his hand. One of his goons follows behind him holding another identical satchel. Bruce walks up to my passenger’s side window. I lower the window as he waits and as I stare at the satchel.

  “In the trunk,” I say, pulling the lever to open it. Bruce nods to his associate to retrieve the kilo. Bruce places the satchel he’s holding into my passenger’s seat.

  “Always a pleasure,” he says with his smoky voice. Bruce sounds like he’s been smoking since he was in utero.

  “Likewise,” I respond. The other guy closed the trunk. He put the kilo in the second satchel. Both men made their way back into the club. I open up the satchel I was given to see nothing but numerous Benjamin Franklins staring at me. I smile, close the satchel, and head back home, twenty thousand dollars richer.

  Chapter 3

  The sun was already beginning to set by the time I got to my apartment. The sky was purple, orange, red, and yellow. The past twenty-four hours have been nothing but kind to me. I’m even thinking about going to Brandon’s party, but I’m not completely sure yet. I feel almost as if there’s some kind of force deterring me from going. It’s not the money, the coke, or the girls. No…it’s something else. A feeling. I can’t describe it. I’ll probably end up going anyway. It’s about time I stop second guessing myself. Personally, it’s starting to make me sick.

  I reach my door, placing my hand on the doorknob. Somehow, I feel tempted to look down the hall once again. I didn’t expect to see anyone, but I noticed the figure of a woman about to walk down the stairs. By the time I did a double take, more than half of her body was already gone.

  I pause for a moment. Is it her? Should I go after her? Yes. I quickly scramble to open my door to throw the satchel inside. After locking the door back up, I casuall
y jog to the other end of the hallway. I go down the stairwell all the way to the first floor. I look around the lobby, but see no one. I go outside. No one. I look in all directions, but there is nothing out here, not even a car driving by. Am I going crazy, or am I just too slow. My heart is racing, but at least it wasn’t my mind this time.

  I sorrowfully walk back upstairs, feeling like I need a rest. I turn on the lamp in my room. I’m sitting in the same spot where Bibi was sitting when she gave me that farewell kiss. In the top drawer of my nightstand, there was a private stash I kept for myself, not for sale. I pulled out a small black case and unzipped it, opening it like a book. The contents inside was the needle. In this moment, I am tired, my eyes only half open. I just let my body take control now. I had my own small amount of indigo. I heat it with water in a bent spoon, just like you would see in the movies. At this point, I am no longer sitting on my bed. I’m sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, with my back to the bed. I shoot the indigo, keeping my eyes closed, taking deep breaths. I can barely open my eyes, but when I do, all I’m able to do is stare blankly into space. With minutes, my arms and legs all feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. I’m entirely unable to move, but that’s okay. I feel like I’m ready to rule the universe from the comfort of my bedroom floor. I begin alternating between an alert state to a drowsy state of consciousness. Nothing can trouble me.