Colorblind [h.s]

7

"Me? You can't be serious."

They want me to deal drugs?

My entire life I've been straight-edged. I try hard in school, I've never been grounded, and I've never even spoken to a cop before. Let alone a fucking FBI agent or DEA personnel, which is exactly what's going to happen if I'm forced to deal drugs.

"I'm completely serious. You know how you said you weren't sure what the rest of us do for a living? Besides making millions of course." Niall pauses, seemingly waiting for me to respond.

I slowly nodd.

"Well," he continues, "I own a dispensary on Berkeley's campus. That alone makes me the smartest fucker in the world, because college kids love getting high." He leans back in his chair to put his feet up on the table, which Liam quickly smacks down from the other side.

"No feet on the table, Niall, we've been over this a million times."

"Whatever, mate," Niall scowls. "Anyways, when business was boomin,' I got invited to a frat party there and obviously went, got shitfaced, and was told to bring bud to the next one. The next night I brought even more and these rich kid fucks couldn't get enough. So, I figured I'd head on over across the border, bought a couple thousand of dollars worth of pot, and made almost half a mil that night. I go from frat to frat and this shit sells fast."

"So... you own a dispensary and then sell weed on the side," I clarify.

"Right on the money," he smiles, tapping his nose. "And weed goes so fast that I threw a little bit of coke into play as well. I sell other shit too 'cause college kids will buy any and every drug they can get their hands on, but never acid. I once had a 12 hour, horrible trip. Fuck that drug," he says, shaking his head. "But yeah, Berkeley students fucking love me there. I go, deal, party 'til I blackout, and repeat. You're gonna come with me next time I go. Don't worry, I won't have you try to sell the hard shit. God knows you'd fuck that up," he laughs.

Why am I slightly offended? I could sell the shit out of some coke if I really wanted to.

"Okay," I clear my throat. "So we go to Berkeley to party, sell drugs, and then we leave and sneak the money into each business?"

"Correct," Liam chimes in. "We split our profits five ways. And even though Niall is the main dealer, we all sell some shit on the side. We don't call ourselves drug dealers because it's bad for the brand. We're respectable businessmen who occasionally supply illicit drugs for a certain price and keep the profit for ourselves," he shrugs.

"All is fair in love and war," Niall giggles.

Right...

"Okay, so what are your other businesses?" I ask.

"I own a tech company," Louis says. "We specialize in cybersecurity."

"So that's how you got a hold of my grades?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, confirming my question.

I wait for him to elaborate as much as Niall did, but he doesn't.

I look to Zayn, raising my eyebrows at him. "And you?"

"Art gallery."

I'm starting to realize that none of these boys talk nearly as much as Niall does, but I'm determined to get more information out of them.

"Where?"

"Sausalito."

"What's it called?"

"Stolen Goodz."