Just One Regret

Part One

It was only around four o'clock in the morning when I walked out of my house. It was a rainy day in the city of Baltimore, Maryland. I was wearing a black coat, jeans, and a Baltimore Ravens hat. I walked down the sidewalk, towards my white Jeep Renegade. I looked around, with nothing to see but flickering street lights and a few cars. I lived on the bad side of town. The hood, the slums, whatever you want to call it.

It doesn't make a difference.

My name is Jay Ford, and that doesn't make a difference either. In this world, names don't matter. Ethnicity, gender, we just don't care. What matters is one thing and one thing only:

Deliver the dope.

We're in it for cash. We do deals with all kinds of people. If they're buying, we're selling. That's just how things go here. We don't care about anything but money. Money is how we pay our taxes. Money is how we feed our family. Nobody does this for fun, it's for the payout. In this world, if you can't deliver the Dope then you don't get the payout. The other world is full of softies. They're filthy rich, have good jobs, and all that good stuff.

I grew up in a poor family, full of poor people, in a poor home, in a poor neck of the woods. I'm poor, but I don't identify as poor. I identify as a genius, an entrepreneur.

A businessman.

You see, I made something out of nothing. Making something out of nothing makes you a lot better than the rich folks. Most of them inherited their money, that's just how things go. The world is a lot different through the eyes of a drug dealer. Most people think we're low life, heartless murderers. They think we like doing this.

Like I said, this isn't a fun job.

We do it for the money, and only for the money. Speaking of money, I've got money. I've earned a lot of green paper from selling the dope. The problem is, you can't go around buying a bunch of stuff out of no where. People are going to start asking questions.

How did you come across this money? Did you win the lottery?

No, I'm a drug dealer. I sell drugs to people. It's just what I do. Believe me, if I could get out of this neck of town I would. However, if I go around buying a bunch of expensive stuff and live my life, what does that make me? I hate rich people. Most of them are stuck up, and inherit their money. I don't want to be stuck up. I want to be able to get by, and that is good enough for me. Sometimes, it takes a lot to get by. People get killed, and people fail.

Sometimes, I get people killed.

No, I don't shoot them. I've never directly killed a man, but I've seen it happen. Most people think of drug dealers in one way. We sell the dope to people, and the dope kills them. It's not my fault if somebody dies. Quite frankly, I don't want them to die. They are human beings, and let's face it: They're my customers.

Now, you may think I'm heartless. I have a big heart, I just don't use it all the time. I've still got a conscience. I have a wife, I have kids. I have friends, and I love those friends like brothers. The people I work with are like my brothers. When one of us dies, it hurts us all.

I remember the first time I watched a man die. His name was Joey Carnett. There were about five of us hanging out at a gas station. It was me, Joey, and my friends Danny, Harrison, and Barry. I was driving them to watch a movie, but we were low on fuel. We decided to jump in and get some snacks. Joey, being the gentleman he was, bought our food. We had time to kill, so we sat outside to eat.

When it was all said and done, Joey volunteered to take our trash to the dumpster behind the store. Joey's that kind of guy.

Or, was that kind of guy.

So, Joey went behind the building. We were laughing, and having a good time. That's when we hear it. The deafening sound of three gunshots. We all looked at each other, and Danny knew exactly what happened. "Joey!" He yelled, as he ran towards the back.

We all followed him, and then there he was. Joey Carnett, laying on the ground. He was gone. There was nothing we could do.

It could have just as easily been me.

Now, I looked out at the road ahead of me. I tried to shake the images of Joey out of my head. It was just two months ago, and we were still hurting. I was driving towards Danny's house, where I would meet Barry to go fulfill a deal. Danny made the dope, and he was good at it too.

Time had flied while I was thinking about Joey. After driving for about ten minutes, I pulled into his driveway. I got out of the car, running in to avoid being soaked. "Hey, Danny!" I said, entering the house. "Hey!" said Danny.

"Where's Barry?" I asked. Danny pointed to the kitchen, where Barry had his feet kicked up on the table. He was eating a Snickers. "Fuck! Barry, get your feet down! I just cleaned that table!" Danny yelled.

Barry laughed, and we all laughed with him. He put his feet down, and got up to greet me. "You ready for this one?" He asked. "I'm always ready," I responded. He smiled, and motioned for him to follow. He lead me into the living room, where the dope was sitting on the table.

Heroine.

"Alright, so this one goes out to Jason," he said.

Jason was a dealer, too. We deliver dope to Jason, and he sells. Sometimes I sell too, so I have my hands tied on busy days. Jason was good at what he did, and he always sold everything he had. Our gang practically owns 3 blocks of the hood. The other blocks we operate in are contested. Rival gangs always want a piece of our territory.

We left the house and started driving towards an abandoned lot where Jason sold his dope. Since he basically sells everything, we have to resupply him. Today was Saturday, and those are our good days. That meant Jason would need a lot extra, so we wanted to get it out of the way.

We pulled into the lot, parking the car in one of the spots. Jason was nowhere to be found. "Damn, Jason is never late," I said. Barry nodded in agreement.

A few minutes past, and there was still no sign of Jason. Me and Barry didn't speak, as we were too busy looking for Jason to pull up. Then, somebody knocked on our window. It wasn't Jason. We didn't know him. Then, he pulled out a gun.

The deafening sound of several gunshots tore through the air. The glass shattered beside me, and I felt a bullet pierce my arm. Blood splattered on the window, the dashboard, and the seats. The man ran away, and I looked over to the passenger seat.

There sat Barry, motionless.