Aquarius Falling

Chapter 43

Chapter 43

July 23, 1964

Counting Money

Jack and I were passed out in the Valiant when the back door opened. We both jumped as if a jolt of electricity had hit us.

“Wake up, guys,” Sylvia said with a laugh as she and Misty got in the backseat.

“What happened in the VIP room?” Jack asked.

“We’ll tell you on the way. Come on, let’s go home. I want to get some sleep,” Misty said. Jack started the Valiant and turned south out of the parking lot.

“In a way, it was kinda scary. A lot of big shots,” Sylvia said.

“They were big shots, alright,” said Misty. “Nobody was using anything but first names, nicknames, and initials, but I recognized some faces from television and newspaper photos. There was no need to be afraid, though. They were there for one thing: sex. And we gave it to them.”

“Gave it to them?” I asked

“Well, no,” said Misty. “We didn’t give away anything.”

When we got back to the room, we spread out the cash from the night on the bed. Sylvia had had two tricks and Misty one before going to the VIP room, and then both had one each there. We counted five hundred from the tricks. The new rate didn’t present any problems. Each trick also sprung for the coke, which added one-twenty-five to the pot. In the bar, Jack sold three packs of coke, and I sold four, which gave us another one-seventy-five. We had eight hundred dollars in cash for one night’s work. Sylvia squealed, and Jack started laughing. Then we all laughed until tears were flowing and our sides hurt.

“What’d I tell you, Delaney?” said Jack. “Fat City. I told you we’d be in Fat City, didn’t I?”

When we settled down, Misty said, “Let’s go get breakfast and then get some sleep. Delaney, this afternoon you and Jack take some of the coke and see what you can sell on the beach. Go up to Ninth and the boardwalk. There are always a bunch of guys hanging out there.”

Jack and I woke up around one-thirty that afternoon. We dressed and took a hit of cocaine for a confidence boost. We stopped in at Pyramid Photos and told Mr. D I had another job and couldn’t do photos anymore. He said he was sorry to lose me and wished me luck. Luck—that was what I needed, and plenty of it. By two o’clock, we were on the boardwalk and approaching Ninth when Jack made a suggestion.

“Let’s do it this way. I’ll hold the coke and stand about twenty-five to thirty feet away from you. You make the pitch, collect the money, send them over to me, and I’ll give them the dope. OK, how’s that sound?”

“OK, but why?”

“Two reasons. First, it reduces the risk of getting robbed by someone, taking both our money and the coke. And second, it might make it harder for a cop to arrest us. But I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

“Why don’t we have to worry about the cops?”

“Well, just look at most of the cops we’ve seen. They’re not trained cops. They’re college guys, and this is their summer job. They’re no more than bouncers. They just walk around in their uniforms hoping nothing happens. Besides, we’re the first people to sell this stuff here. The cops aren’t looking for it.”

“OK, but why is some kid gonna give me ten bucks and then walk down the boardwalk hoping to get the coke from you? Won’t they think it’s a scam?”

“Don’t worry about that. These kids are dumber than you, Delaney,” Jack said.

“You know, you have a criminal mind.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?”

“Hey, those four guys over there are from a Virginia Tech fraternity,” I said. “They partied with Sylvia a couple weeks back. I’ll start with them. Give me your cigarettes and go to the other side of Ninth.” Jack handed over a half pack of Camels and continued walking to the north corner of the boardwalk and Ninth Street.

“One a’ you guys got a light?”

“Hey, look who it is, the pimp master,” one of them said.

Another lit my cigarette off his lighter and said, “Your girl available for a party tonight?”

“Please, the word is manager, but no, she’s working a hotel gig. Besides, you can’t afford her anymore. She’s up to a hundred bucks.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“No, man. You had a bargain and didn’t know it. Now you can tell your friends back at school that you had a hundred-dollar hooker.”

They laughed at my comment, but I could tell from the look in their eyes that would be exactly what they would do. And they would repeat the story until their friends were sick of hearing it.

“If you guys are still into partying, I’ve got something for you to liven it up.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Any of you ever try cocaine?”

“You gotta be kidding. You got some cocaine?”

Their eyes grew big with an expression of awe.

“This is a chance to try it for one night of partying, something else to tell your friends back at school.”

At that point, a debate the magnitude of Kennedy and Nixon started with three wanting to try it and one holding out. They huddled apart from me for a few minutes and then seemed to reach an agreement.

“How much is it, how much do we get, and how do we use it?”

“Ten bucks for one-sixteenth of an ounce. You call it a sweet sixteen. For the four of you, maybe you should buy two.”

“Sweet sixteen,” one said with a chuckle.

“So twenty bucks for two sweet sixteens?” asked another.

“Right.”

Then they huddled again, and I could see them emptying their pockets and turning cash over to the tallest guy in the group. He approached me and counted out the twenty as a five and fifteen one-dollar bills.

“See that guy across the street looking at us?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m holding up two fingers and he’s nodding.”

“Yeah.”

“Go over to him, and he’ll give you two bags of coke.”

“OK, cool.”

It was done, and the next couple of hours went about the same way, with me approaching groups of guys and making a pitch, closing a deal, and sending them to Jack. We weren’t sure how we would do, so we had only brought ten packs. When we sold the last one, we went back to the room with our hundred dollars to celebrate our success with the girls. When we walked into the room Sylvia was sitting on her bed painting her toenails. Misty was propped up on the pillows on the same bed smoking a cigarette.

“Another hundred,” Jack said, waving the cash over his head.

“Nine hundred dollars!” I said. “We made nine hundred dollars today. Do you realize that? When I was working at The Sands, I made forty-five dollars in a week! We gotta celebrate.”

“Let’s eat at Phillips Crab House tonight,” said Misty. “I can’t think of a nicer place in Ocean City to celebrate.”

“Yeah, man, we’ve hit the big time,” Jack said.