Drug Lord

Chapter I

There are many types of people in this world.

Ori Hawthorne had encountered her fair share of them for being only 19 years old. After all, she was the daughter of the late Eric Hawthorne, founder and former CEO of Hawthorne Engineering. This required her attendance at various parties and charity events that were once held annually by her parents as she was growing up. She now attended college as a full-time student and part-time pot dealer at her university, and had managed to meet quite a few people on her own time - though not as often in such extravagant settings as once before. 

She thought often of the various individuals she had encountered in her life: people who were filled with nothing but love, people whom had pretended to be filled with nothing but love, people who cared about nothing if it didn't involve self, people that were loyal, people that spoke often without consideration, people that were manipulative and deceptive, people who became their mistakes, and many people who just couldn't decide what kind of people they were at all. 

She had deemed it improbable to ever know exactly what type of person someone really is, building the solid belief in her mind that she could never truly have a full judge of someone's character until she, herself, had crawled inside of their skin and lived out their days instead of her own. 

However, this didn't stop her from creating her own sort of filtration system in her mind. 

Though she was sure she could never fully comprehend a person, she was certain that she could comprehend their intentions. 

Ori had always been very observant.  

When she judged a person, she saw not only their clothes or their car or their occupation. She knew those things were really of no importance when it came down to it. Rather, she noticed the placement of wrinkles that had set on a person's skin, or whether or not they had to keep movement whilst sitting still (e.g. the shaking of a leg, the tapping of a finger.) Ori took into consideration the light in peoples' eyes, the volume level in which they spoke, the way they carried themselves and for whom they were carrying themselves for. 

It came down to four types of people when she thought from this perspective: good people, bad people, good people who do bad things, and bad people who put on as if they're doing good things.

Her brother was a good person who was doing bad things. She told herself this often, and was reminding herself of just that as the driver pulled their car into into a wrap-around driveway belonging to a large brick house in which she had never seen. 

This manor was off to itself on a large green platform of grass encircling a smaller pond on the posterior left side of the mansion. It was really a beautiful place, wherever they were. 

The car came to a stop and her brother began to shift, readying himself to get out.

"I'll be back in five minutes. Dylan, can you call Avery back and give him an ETA?" 

Shawn didn't wait for a reply before shutting the door and walking towards the entrance of the house. 

Dylan scooted out of the middle seat and picked his cell phone up, searching for the number. Ori watched her brother disappear into the doorway and sighed. 

From her purse she pulled Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy and began to read.

Inside, Shawn stood waiting in a dark burgundy room filled with eloquent furniture. Not that he noticed his surroundings at all, as he was sending a text to Dylan regarding more phone calls needing to be made. He was typing the last word in his message when someone in the doorway cleared their throat. His eyes darted across the room to see a man a few inches taller than himself, wearing a black-on-black suit he instantly recognized to be Armani. He knew this as he had thought about purchasing the same suit just a few days prior.

"Hawthorne," the man said indifferently.

"Funny, Kingsley, I had just about bought that same attire not a week ago."

"Is that so?" Ever Kingsley replied dryly, his tone intentionally exposing his level of disinterest in small talk. 

Shawn ignored it. He was used to this type of mood when dealing with Kingsley. He was almost certain he disliked him. 

Not that it mattered; Shawn had money to spend, and everyone likes money.

 However, he was absolutely correct in his thoughts: Mr. Kingsley did not have a taste for Shawn Hawthorne. He thought Shawn to be increasingly untrustworthy, and had been considering cutting him off for quite some time. Recently,  his name had began to make its appearance into either one tabloid or another. This was happening every other week or so by now, always accompanied by fellow large, bold letters - shouting about whichever ludicrous affair he had been involved in this time.    

Considering these thoughts and mindlessly listening to Shawn's requests, Ever paced to a large window adjacent to the door. Looking outside into the vast greenery, he wondered if Mr. Hawthorne had come alone.

"... and just fifteen keys today. I don't know how fast I'm gonna be able to move this. I think someone else has been running downto–" but Ever wasn't listening now. 

He spotted his customer's car outside of his home and instantly became irritated when he noticed the two passengers left inside. He did not like the idea of an untrusted man bringing company without notification, and he certainly thought it sketchy that they were just sitting outside. Looking closer, he could see what appeared to be a slender, brown haired man on the phone. Beside him was an even smaller girl who looked to be fairly young. Her hair, he could see, was of pale blonde and sat atop her head in some sort of bun. She sat in the back reading a book. A book. For just a moment he found it relieving to see someone who wasn't looking at their phone. 

He quickly forgot this. 

"Who's out in the car?" Kingsley snapped with obvious aggravation.

"Oh, don't worry about it; that's just a friend and my sister. They work for me, sir."

"Your sister? I wasn't aware Eric had a daughter. She sells for you?"

 He said this with an arched eyebrow, trying to ignore the fact that Shawn had just instructed him not to  'worry about it.' Ha! Not to worry about who this idiot kid had brought onto his property. A property that, mind you, had the economic equivalence of an newly discovered oil field at this moment in time. 

"Well, I mean, she sells some weed for me. She's not a fan of what I'm purchasing from you. She brings in good business at the college though, and that's somewhere that I can't really cover myself. She's.... She's convenient." 

Convenient. Ever thought this a terrible way for anyone who was not in the stage of adolescence  to describe their relative.

"Go get them. Now. It looks bad having people waiting outside. You should very well know that."

Outside, Dylan had quickly finished making any remaining phone calls. He now stared out of the window equipped with wet palms and a mind searching for a conversation starter. He thought for a moment that he would comment on the weather and the dreadful heat that had filled up the car like smoke filled up lungs. 

Only then he noticed that he was the only one sweating.   

Beside him, Ori reached canto ten of her novel and was oblivious to the boy with chestnut colored hair who didn't know what to say to the beautiful girl beside him. He simply never did. 

Her door opened abruptly, revealing her brother, whom which she could see was irritated.

"Come on. He doesn't like people in the driveway," he mocked childishly.

 Mildly confused, Dylan and Ori followed.