Drug Lord

Chapter IV

Well, this is happening then, I think to myself before replying to the stern voice with a  "Mr. Kingsley?"

As if I didn't know it was him. Apparently he thought this way, too, as I heard him snort on the other end.

"Business: I wish to discuss it. Today would suit my schedule best if that's possible for you. I-" I cut him off.

"What kind of business are you referring to, sir?" Even I know this is a stupid question, so I don't wait for an answer.

Just respectfully decline, Ori. Respectfully.

"I usually just leave the uh.. more.. crucial meetings to my brother. I deal with things on a lower level, as you know." God, this is awkward, nevermind I don't know how to discuss this over the phone. It was at least fifteen seconds before he replied. 

Coldly, might I add.

"Ms. Hawthorne, I don't like to be interrupted, for future reference. However, I understand your disinterest in furthering your involvement. I'll be in touch."

That was it. He hung up before I could even ask how he had gotten my number. I knew he didn't get it from Shawn, because he would have been by my side as soon as he was asked. He wouldn't have shut up about it. For days.

I unlocked my screen and called the number back. It rang four times.

"What?" he snaps, but clearly seems confused.

"How did you get this number?" I said firmly.

"That's why you called back? That's a waste of twenty seconds. Please, don't concern yourself with such irrelevant matters. Good-"

"I don't find it irrelevant, I find it strange. I know it wasn't given to you by Shawn. How did you get it?"

Silence.

Finally, "I thought we were going to work on our manners, Ms. Hawthorne? I've told you twice in the last five minutes to stop interrupting me."

"I'm sorry.... How did you get it?"

He sighed, annoyed at my persistence. "It doesn't matter how I retrieved it, what matters is that I have it. If I wish to have something, it's usually mine." The line disconnects. 

Well, that whole ordeal wasn't sketchy at all. Nope.

I decided it was best not to mention the phone call to Shawn. If he were to know I turned down Kingsley's proposal without even hearing it, he would definitely freak out. I dressed quickly and picked my phone back up. I really needed to make some money.

The next few months went unusually well. Summer break was approaching in less than a week, which is enough to make any college student ooze with excitement. After two sleepless nights and a ridiculous amount of coffee, I aced my final exam in Calc II. Just barely, but an A nonetheless. I was another step closer to taking over my father's company. I had also sold a little over nine ounces in a matter of twenty or so days, and business was bound to only pick up as summer set in. Shawn was doing even better than I. Whoever had been taking his downtown customers had disappeared. Rumor was that the law had caught up with him, but I never saw anything in the news. Coke was going out and coming in like Amazon orders. Even better, he had met with Ever Kingsley several times, which meant two things. One, Shawn wasn't cut off. Two, Ever hadn't mentioned our phone call. Things were going great. Our bills were to be paid, and I could spoil myself every so often with either a really nice dinner, a new video game or a book I'd been planning to buy. I'd even put a almost almost $5000 in the bank.

Shawn decided to throw a party the weekend after next, which I was surprisingly excited about. It had been so long since I could just talk to people and enjoy myself without having to worry about school or financial matters. 

On Tuesday, after my exam, I went to a boutique just a few miles from home to get a dress. When I arrived at the house, Shawn sat at the bar with his hands in his hair.

"Ori, how much money do you have?" He asks desperately as soon as he is aware of my presence. I think back to the two-hundred dollars I just spent and the money I had in my wallet right before. After quickly calculating I give him an answer of five-hundred, which doesn't seem to please him.

He slams his head against the bar. This means he's done something ludicrous. 

"I've paid the DJ for the party, I've paid the caterers, I've bought the alcohol; I'm out of money! I owe out ten grand to Kingsley, the bills are due in just a few weeks. What do I do, Or? I can't cancel it! I can't get a refund for the DJ OR the caterers! Fuck!"

Somehow it always comes down to this. Shawn spends the money, Shawn's sad about spending the money, Shawn needs Or's help. 

"How the fuck are you ten THOUSAND dollars short?" I asked astoundingly. 

"I just told you! Great parties come at a cost. Plus," he added, throwing on a look of guilt, "I may have gotten a little too drunk and given quite a bit of coke away."

"Please tell me you're joking, Shawn." I could cry. I know he's serious. 

"Almost five thousand dollars worth. Don't remember a bit of it." His head was cradled in his hands now. He almost actually looked to be sorry. 

I sigh, pulling a checkbook from my white purse.

"I'll give you the five hundred, and six of the eight ounces I have left. I'm also gonna write you a check for what's left in the bank. There's almost six thousand more there. That'll put you at what? Less than two thousand dollars away? I'm sure you can cover that, yeah? Like I said, I'll have two more ounces, so I'm okay for the rest of the month. Give Kingsley what you owe him, and go from there." Relief came down over his face and he hugged me, assuring me had the two grand and thanking me. I rolled my eyes and gave a "yeah, yeah," in return. There was no point in scalding. Nothing ever changed with Shawn, and this would happen again within two months. 

Later that night he came to my room and waited ever so patiently for me to finish a game of team death match, in order to let me know that everything was figured out. He informed me that Ever had given him the most gracious front he had ever received due to how fast he had been returning, and a deadline of the night before the party.

 "It's perfect," he said, walking to my door.  He stopped before his exit and grabbed the frame, looking at me with both sincerity and a ping of guilt. 

  "Thank you, Or. I'm sorry."