Night Life In Portland

Chapter 1: Hero's Aren't Always Angels

Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. I am bad. No, I am really bad. No. I lied. That is not bad enough to explain how bad I really am. I am going to hell. Eh, that’s a little better. How about we say that I am going to hell and there is no way to save me, repent, any of that shit. Huh, that still isn’t enough to explain how much of a monster I am. I guess, this is who I am and we must live with that.

When you look at me, I mean honestly, I don’t look like a bad girl. You know, I... well, I am the senior undercover investigator for the East Branch of the Portland Police Department. I am a cop; I have a cop car; I have a gun... and yes, I like my donuts and coffee. But so does everyone else, donuts and coffee are not a cop thing, get over it. I am the mother to an adorable 5 year old adopted little boy and the wife to a heir to the Italian throne. See, I sound like your average little angel, a hero almost.

But when I kiss Bentley before preschool and then say goodbye to my hubby Parker, I don’t always go to work. In fact, its amazing if I work twice a week. I wonder how I even have a job.... hm. Instead, I run off to the ports, where there is a ship waiting to export the goods hidden in my Rav4’s trunk and a boss who gets angry when you cheat him on a few pounds of cocaine.

My name is Genesis Varon-Hunter and I will admit it. I am a drug dealer.

I work my hardest to keep my secret life from Andy. When Boss brands the back of my neck with his knife to keep track of my mistakes, I just don’t ever put  my long hair up or let Parker move it. If he wants to kiss and suck on my neck, he will have to live with the front. I make sure that when Boss decides to shoot at my car as I get the hell out of there, that I collect all the bullets from their respective holes. I think I work harder to cover up this secret, than I do to make sure I don’t anger the boss that could really hurt me.

But, I messed up. I did. Genesis, you are a fucking dumbass.

Yesterday was your typical Portland day. Shootings and car accidents and downpours that never looked like they were going to end. And those random bursts of sunlight that tease you into thinking summer is coming. Yup, just a Portlandia type of day. I was down in Old Town, in the heart of Portland, chilling in my car, my heels on the dash, enjoying the 99.5 The Wolf’s morning show, waiting for my pager to go off. Boss needed me to pick up a couple hundred pounds of pure cannabis bud. I listened to Fitz talk about his new baby boy, and I took a second to think about my own baby boy. But it didn’t take long for my pager to go off, ruining my day dreaming. It was pick up time. I started the Rav and pulled off of 2nd and headed down Davis St. I picked up the shipment from the other dealer and got into a little gun fight when he didn’t give me all of it. I left with what I had and drove to the Port of Portland on the Columbia River.

I could see Boss’s dark shadow as I pulled up onto the docks. The giant cargo ship sat in wait for my load. I got out of the car and watched Boss walk up. Boss is a slender, old man with years behind him. You can see it all when you look into his gray eyes. But behind his gentle 54 year old smile, you would never think this is the kind of man that could shoot his dealer out of cold blood at point blank range. I should really watch my step.

Boss’s expert hands open the back door to the Rav with ease as he counted the number of crates stored in the back. My blue eyes were filled with worry, but the sunlight that made them sparkle hid that worry. The light wind ruffled his gray hair and blew my reddish brown locks around my face. I took a deep breath as I watched him recount the crates to make sure he was right the first time. He turned around and looked at me a bit frustrated and I felt the lump in my throat get bigger.

“Where is the rest, Mrs. Hunter?” Boss’s crisp, deep voice, boomed loud over the empty docks. I lowered my head in shame, a passive, dominated gesture to a man who held my life in his hands. He growled and punched my car and grabbed me by my throat. “Where Genesis!?” His dark gray eyes searched mine for answers.