Loves Me Not

FIFTY NINE

BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

It's fascinating to me that a tablet of Xanax can be manufactured and purchased for about one dollar at cost value. You buy that from a supplier in bulk and you get five hundred tablets for five hundred dollars. Seems like quite a bit of money to be putting into something, right? Well what happens when you take that one dollar tablet of Xanax and sell it at street price, which is ten dollars? You make nine dollars profit off one tablet. You then take that five hundred dollars that you spent and turn it into five thousand.

Of course, it doesn't always necessarily work out that exact. People get deals for the more that they buy. For instance, if someone wants five or less, it's ten dollars a tablet. However, if they're buying in bulk, you give them a good deal. Fifty tablets for two hundred and fifty dollars. That breaks it down to five dollars a tablet, so you're still making four dollars profit.

That's the most intriguing part about the drug business. You take something that is manufactured so cheaply and flip it for major cash. It's not even about the substance itself – it's about business and entrepreneurship. Forget the fact that it's narcotics you're dealing with. Think of it like you'd think about any other business. Taking something and making profit.

After my little stint with the couple in my car, I knew I had to make a change in what I was doing. First and foremost, I needed to stop carrying around so much cash with me. It wasn't safe in general and I don't know how I was so ignorant to think I'd be shielded from something like that ever happening to me.

I went to the bank that following week and created a new account, one that Ben couldn't see or touch. I'd had my own individual bank account there for years, and then Ben and I opened our mutual account there a few months prior. This way, I could put the money from the side business in there without any questions asked. And it was my money. I could spend it or save it. I could do whatever I wanted with it.

Once the bank account was set up and secured, I began making small deposits. I didn't want to put everything in all at once, so it was progressive. The rest I kept in my bookshelf until it was safe to deposit it all.

Looking through all of the money I'd made, I didn't want to give it up – the side business, that is. But the truth is, after the incident in the car, I knew something had to change. I'd be fooling myself if I thought I could continue doing what I was doing and not face some sort of consequence. It was risky business. Dangerous, even. I was in way over my head. To be foolish and ignorant enough to think that I – Catalaina Kittridge – could truly pull off something of this magnitude, was plain stupid. I was just a girl who read books on weekends and spent her days with children. It was something I thought I wanted. But not after what happened. I couldn't risk something worse happening. My life was not worth it.

I set up a meeting with Tony the following Saturday, the last weekend in April. We met at a local Starbucks and I gave him an envelope containing my weekly earnings. Then I took in a breath and prepared myself for what I was about to say.

"Listen," I started. "This has been great and all, don't get me wrong. But I don't think I can do this anymore."
He stared at me, his dark eyes glaring into mine. He didn't speak, and it almost made me want to keep talking, just to fill the silence. But I kept my mouth closed.
"What do you mean, you can't do this anymore?"
"Exactly that. I quit. I want out."
"There is no out, sweetheart. Once you're in, you're in."
"We didn't sign a contract," I said. "I have no obligation to you."
He glared at me again. "You came to me," he said. "You are the one who wanted this. Why the fuck are you coming to me now all of a sudden, a month after starting, and telling me that you're done, that you want out?"
"Something happened last weekend," I told him.
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"That couple that buys the cocaine and Percocet's," I said. "They pulled a gun on me. They took the drugs and all of the cash I had on me."
"What did you do about it?"
"Nothing! There was nothing I could do. He had a fucking gun."
He didn't respond.
"It's too dangerous," I told him. "Especially for me. I'm still new. I don't know what I'm doing. Perhaps it's best you find someone else who knows the business better anyways."
"No," he said. "What I said before still applies. Once you're in, you're in. You don't get an 'out' just because some idiot pulled a gun on you. They wouldn't have done anything. They were bluffing, you know that, right? They're just a couple of junkies who need money and a fix."
"But what would have happened if they weren't bluffing!?" I said. "What happens next time, when someone more serious comes along?"
"I only send you passive clients, you know that."
"Yeah, because pulling a gun on someone is so passive."
"That's not a common occurrence."
"Exactly. Anomalies happen. I'm sorry, but I can't risk it."
"Listen," he said, leaning in closer across the table. "You're not out until I say you're out, you hear me? Unless you want that fiancé of yours to know exactly what you've been up to."
My heart thudded in my chest. "You've been watching me?"
He sat back in his chair. "A deal's a deal, CJ. You gave me your word. I hope you intend on keeping it."