Lucy_Pearl Copyright © 2016
Chapter Fourteen
**WARNING: Drug References, Offensive Language & Violence**
Guinnes looked down at three pound bag of artificial Tobacco he was trafficking for the Puerto Ricans. You could smoke it, chew it or eat it. And the shit was lethal. It was rumored to kill over one hundred teenagers in San Juan. And that's why it was outlawed in Puerto Rico, Cuba, Jamaica and some other Central American countries.
But the worst thing about, it was as addictive as crack. It made the addicts pick at their skin, see hallucinations and eat. A lot. Along with short term memory lost, lung cankers, a whole bunch of dangerous shit.
The street name was TBC2. Or Tobacco Jr. The name was laughable but that's what they wanted. A knock sounded on the office door, and without looking away from the bag, he addressed whoever was at the door.
"Carlo is here to collect," Guinnes looked up at Brick, an older member of his club. Well past fifty but still running around with a MC.
"To collect?" Guinnes tried to see if he remember Lillo, the head of the PR Cartel or Los Amigos Locos or whatever, telling him when they were coming.
"Yeah, he said he called last week and you said we had the money," Guinnes tried to think back to when the man called. Fuck! He couldn't remember that shit, and he didn't remember even selling any of it. He pulled the drawer out of his desk and looked down at the stack of cash in drawer. Lillo had given him two hundred and fifty pounds of the shit. That stuff was in high demand, especially on east coast, and just a pound of it was about five hundred dollars a pop. That was approximately... One hundred and twenty-five grand. And he didn't have any of it.
"Uh, um.. Just tell him I'll be down in a minute.. To uh, negotiate our deal," Brick nodded his head and closed the door to Guinnes' office. And that was when he flipped.
"Fuck!" He whisper yelled. He pulled all the drawers out of his desk and scrambled as much money as he could. He didn't sell a pound of that shit. He smoked about half of it and then gave some to the club to sample. He thought he had more time to get the money from his other deals, but it was time to pay. He pulled open his cabinets and started to grab the cash he saved in his safe. It was probably about a few grand. He counted the money quickly and was barely half way to the amount he owed. It would have to do.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," he walked down the stairs as he straightenned his leathers and ran his hand through his dark hair. When he stepped off the last step, six of his men stepped out of the livingroom and followed him to the front door. They never came into the house and he always wondered why.
He pulled the front door open and he saw six of his men were already outside, watching the men who came in big black trucks. The windows practically painted black.
"Hola!" Carlo stepped forward, a smile on his face.
"Wasup," he replied. Guinnes folded the stack of money and put a rubber band on it. He handed it to Carlo who passed it to a man behind him.
"Cuéntalo," the man nodded and started to count the money quickly. Carlo turned his dark eyes back to Guinnes and smiled, his teeth white and straight.
"So how has business been, amigo?" Guinnes looked at the man counting the money before turning to Carlo to respond.
"It's been well," Carlo nodded and the man behind him tapped on his shoulder.
"Sesenta y cinco mil, " the man whispered. Carlo's eyebrows lifted in surprise as he turned back to Guinnes a smile still on his face.
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