Love Games

02||Easton

⚡️Easton

Drew storms into my place, frustration written all over his face. "The damn car is out there again," he huffs. He slams my front door with such force; I'm almost ready to slap the piss out of him. Yet, I get it. The constant surveillance is getting under his skin.

I understand the frustration; after all, I've been under APD investigation for the past 5 years. Not that it bothers me too much. I've cultivated connections within the police force, a safety net of sorts that keeps me ahead of the game.

And hey, I've always kept my hands clean, stayed away from the dirty work. My crew, they're the ones diving headfirst into the chaos long before I even think about touching any product. Building a solid case against us? Good luck to those trying; we've turned it into a maze they can't navigate.

I blow out the smoke I previously inhaled. "I don't know why you're worried; they never find anything," I say, taking another drag.

"Because I talked to Rob, and he saying that there's a new chief overseeing things," Drew reveals, dropping the bombshell. Rob, our inside man, spilled the beans on this critical information.

This revelation grabs my attention, the first time I've heard of this development. No one bothered to inform me. I narrow my eyes at Drew. "Why the hell didn't anybody tell me?"

After all, I'm the boss and the one cutting the checks.

He holds up his phone, revealing a picture. "I just found out last Friday. It's some woman named Tia James," Drew explains.

Looking at the photo, the woman's face strikes a chord of familiarity, and I pause to reflect. She was just a regular officer on my case a few years ago.

The revelation eases my mind; if Tia couldn't touch us back then, I doubt she poses a threat now. I wave a hand dismissively, saying, "She ain't new; she must've moved up in ranks. I remember seeing her a few years ago."

Drew visibly relaxes, tossing his phone aside, but he's not entirely convinced. "So you're not worried?"

I shrug, bringing the blunt to my lips and inhaling. "Not at all, and if something does happen, nothing leads back to us." Exhaling, I pass the blunt to him. "The only reason they're on us is because of Drake's snitching ass." Drake, a supposed friend, ended up in jail for a traffic ticket and betrayed my operation to save himself. It still infuriates me to this day. "Motherfucker snitched on me over a damn traffic ticket." Yet, due to the airtight nature of our operation, they could never trace anything back to us.

I steer the conversation in a different direction. "We have to stop by the dealership later this week."

Drew questions, "For what? Everything good there?"

"Yeah, Dad just called a meeting, and we've got some foreign cars coming in," I explain.

Selling cars is the perfect cover story, my legitimate business – not only a source of income but also an excuse to play around with my real passion: cars.

I take the blunt that Drew is passing back to me. "I'm thinking about adding motorcycles to the dealership."

"Shit, thats a good idea." Drew responds. He sits back, and I can see the effects of the weed kicking in as his eyes relax, low and red. His voice takes on a calm and mellow tone.

Amid our laughter and brainstorming about the motorcycle venture, my phone buzzes, signaling an incoming call. Glancing at the screen, I see it's Rob. I answer, "What's up?"