Chapter 3
Jesse invited me to his apartment on an afternoon I wasn't exactly prepared for. Mom sent me out grocery shopping, because she “felt like she had enough Vitamin D” for one day. On my drive to the mart, I got a call from Pinkman, asking if I could stop by his apartment for a quick business meeting.
When the door was opened for me, I didn't expect to see my old classmates, Christian Ortega, Brandon Mayhew, and Pete (I never knew his last name) standing there, staring at me like a bunch of monkeys.
“What the hell is goody two shoes doing here, Jesse?” Pete asks, a little venom in his voice. I won't lie, I talked a little bit of shit about all of them in high school. They were the scum of the school in those days.
Yet here I am, at their mercy, practically. For right now anyway.
“She's working with us, now.” Jesse said, cupping a balled up fist to signal a start of the meeting.
“What? Sierra Lowe, The Great? Working with us losers?” Brandon asked, sarcasm seasoning his voice.
“Christian, Brandon, Pete, I'm sorry I-” I began to apologize, but I was interrupted by Pete saying “That's Skinny Pete to you.”. Along with Brandon mentioning his nickname would be “Badger”, and Christian's is “Combo”.
“Oh, okay... Skinny Pete, Badger, and Combo. I am so sorry I treated you all like crap in high school. At the time, in my mind set, high school determined everyone's future, and I was wrong about all of you.” God I was talking out of my ass.
“But if you are ready to forgive me for the really horrible things I said, I will make you guys a very reliable business partner.”
Then I realized that Jesse never mentioned that we were here to discuss product. My thoughts were quickly redeemed by Skinny Pete.
“Yeah Jesse, let's get this show on the road. I'm ready to forgive our fragile little flower here, and get to work.” He said, putting a stinky arm around my shoulder. All 3 of the men gave Jesse an anticipating look, asking for directions.
Jesse began by telling us our front and product. “This is the best schizz ever.” he says, saying we sell for $2,600, for the amount we have. $2,000 for Jesse, and the $600 would be divided between the 4 of us. Only $150 huh? Cheap bastard. That doesn't even cover half a text book. I'll just sell harder and make money faster.
“This is the ground floor,” Jesse says. “D.B.A.A., Mo Fos.”
''''''''''''''''''
It's been about 2 weeks since I've sold out of the Heisenberg product. I sold all of it in 3 days. Word got around quickly that there was good meth on the market at UNM. I only sold “sample sizes”, at about $60 a gram. I wasn't allowed to sell more than a gram at a time, gotta keep enough product for new customers. At this rate, I'll be making the 2 hour drive from school to Jesse every weekend. I called him up and asked for additional product.
“You already need more?” He asked, a little peeved.
“I've needed more for 2 weeks already, I sold out right after I started selling. We have exactly one month before finals week. I'll need more than triple what you gave me if you expect me to last that whole month. I've got people riding my ass for more Blue Sky right now, and if they don't get it soon then you're gunna have to forget keeping them around.” I'm trying to sound as adamant as I can without pissing him off. I really need to drill it in his head that this shit will sell like hot cakes at UNM, and the demand is higher than the bar I just set for quality over there.
