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There was an exception here or there.
Namely, the shit that went down with Shane and Lea.
But that was an exception because Lea was Shane's and whatever demons she had after her were Shane's problem as well. So he dealt with them and because family was family was family (no matter how harebrained the scheme at times) we helped.
The same rule would apply if Dusty was mine, right?
Only problem being, we hadn't agreed to that. We had barely talked much at all. A part of me was worried about pushing, about putting expectations on her that might stress her out. But to be honest, I saw it going somewhere. Even though it was new. Even though I didn't know everything about her, I was seeing it heading somewhere serious. Eventually. At her pace.
So, for the time being, she wasn't technically mine.
But I didn't see that being a problem either.
I wasn't a shit starter. I never got involved in shit that wasn't good for my family. And I wouldn't be doing it now if it weren't for good reason.
"Where?" I asked as he poured himself another shot.
He sighed, shaking his head as he looked off out Dusty's picture window for a long second before his eyes found mine again. "Camden."
"Oh for fuck's sake," I growled.
Camden? Fucking Camden? The place rated the most dangerous goddamn city in America for years running? With a crime rate six times the national average? Great. Fucking fantastic. Just what I needed.
I exhaled hard, holding onto hope. "Five-hundred pills isn't a huge stash." It was enormous for our town, but as a whole, that was a small chunk of the trade.
"Not if you factor in that I'm one of fifty guys doing this shit."
Fifty.
If each guy had the same five hundred pill stash, that meant that there were twenty-five thousand pills and over half a million dollars in the operation. And that was only per goddamn shipment and distribution. I had no idea how often they got pills in, but even if it was just once a month at that rate, that was a big deal.
Bry's boss, whoever the fuck he was, was not someone I had any business fucking with.
I reached up, scraping a hand down my scratchy stubble on a sigh.
"So you get me here," Bry said, nodding.
"Get me a fucking glass," I growled, brain racing.
Bry snorted and turned back to do that, pouring me a heavy shot and I threw it back.
"Alright," I said, wincing at the burn. "Ten grand. I'll make good on that," I decided, seeing it as the only way out of the shit situation.
Bry was shaking his head before I was even done. "He has contacts all around to keep an eye on things. If people start bitching that they can't find 30s around here all a sudden, on a mother fucking party night, then there is going to be some questions. They'd be the kind that come with a lot of bleeding on my part." He paused, looking down at his feet. "Like to say I'm strong enough to keep my mouth shut, but he's a sick fuck and I can't make that promise and Dusty..."
Dusty could pay for his fucking connections.
"Alright, who the fuck knows about you?" I asked, hoping that if he was stupid enough to get connected with some dealer in Camden that he was at least smart enough to keep his less than legal activities to himself.
"Aside from literally every-fucking-one I deal to?" he asked, making a good point.
Addicts were a desperate sort. If they saw that Bry always had a large supply of drugs on him and followed him even casually, they would find that our apartment building was a constant stop of his.
And Dusty, well she couldn't have been an easier target, could she?
"You love Dusty, don't you?" I asked, making him jerk guiltily.
"She's been my best friend since we were kids," he hedged.
"How the fuck could you leave her so unprotected?" I asked, anger out of my voice, just a deep kind of sadness there instead. When you loved someone, you watched out for them. Even if you were involved with dark shit, like me and my family, you made sure that never touched your women or kids.
Bry shook his head again, looking down at his empty glass. "She's so fucking stubborn, man," he said and I almost wanted to smile. I did get a peek of that over the dishes, but it was hard to imagine her being so stubborn that you couldn't force a security system or a guard or a nasty looking dog on her if you needed it for her safety. "I never wanted her involved in the first place. She was never meant to touch this shit."
Well, that was the damn truth. And I had to give him at least a little bit of begrudging respect for knowing that.
