Vittori ✔️

TWO

DANIEL HARPER

It's been two weeks since I've started selling. And as of right now, it's not enough. I'm not the only one in New York who's selling drugs to pay for college. In fact, there's about a hundred others like me who need to find a source of income. And you know what? I applaud them for deciding to not go the loan path.

The interview process to get this job was a bit weird. I had to meet with some sketchy guys in Little Italy and go through an interview process. Creepy guy from before was correct, and the suppliers really liked how clean my record is and my 'twink-ish looks'. Said it makes me look innocent.

I ended up telling my aunt and uncle that I found an internship under my professor for computer science and I'll be earning an extra income.

A few people found out I was dealing. I would carry it in my backpack around school and during my breaks I would set up on a bench in the quad and wait for people to come and buy. I got the occasional invite to some parties and made huge profits.

But it wasn't enough.

I still got an email from my financial advisor that I was in danger of getting dropped from my classes. I talked to one of my few friends, Angie, and she expressed her sympathy for me. She wanted to pay for my education but I refused. I kinda feel like she's taking pity on me since I have no one else here. But I still consider her my closest friend.

With no other options left, I felt like dropping out would be my best choice. I talked to my aunt and uncle, who supported my decision, and made sure to tell me that it wasn't my fault. Though I do feel bad because they took out a mortgage on their home. Not to mention, I sold a lot of my parent's stuff to raise money. And it was all for nothing.

Which then left me with a bag of MDMA in my backpack. Since I'm not planning on staying in New York and will have to move back home soon, I'll need to talk to whoever is in charge and resign from my role.

Shouldn't be too hard.

I looked at the card again and called the number and said that I need to quit. Rather than let me quit on the spot, they asked me to come to a certain location for an exit interview. The address given to me was not a townhouse or home, but a restaurant in Tribeca. An Italian restaurant to be exact.

I dressed nicely and had my backpack with the goods inside. My plan is simple: walk in and tell them that I'm quitting and I'm returning home.

I told the waiter my name and he left to the back of the restaurant and came back a few moments later. Rather than seat me at a normal table, he led me to a secret room.

The vibe here changed. It felt like I was entering a secret society. Velvet lined the walls, and a dark crimson color took over the interior. The dim glow of yellow lamps barely allowed you to see what's going on.

In front was a set of double doors guarded by two strong men. The man who had been leading me here turned around. "Reminder. Don't speak unless spoken too. Don't offend him or his wife. If he offers you food, take it and eat it. But if he winks, it's probably poison. And don't try to attack him. There'll be at least 10 guns pointed at you at all times. Got it?" He asked.