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“I asked him all of that too and he explained he didn’t want somebody just in there to get the money, someone burnt out that’s been in the system.”
“Well, seems he’s looking for a sincere person. He doesn’t want to have to deal with a neglectful or cruel individual who’d abuse his friend. Trust must be a big deal for him. I get it.”
“Hmmm. Guess I didn’t think of it that way until you just said it like that. Here’s the thing though, despite me havin’ no experience with that sort of thing, he has a crush on me too, Blue. He tried to take me out and was flirtin’.”
The woman shrugged. “So what?”
“So what? Blue, he might expect some cookies! I’m not trying to get involved with anyone right now.” She shook her head and crossed her arms. “You know most men ain’t shit. I ain’t never dated no White man, either, but I reckon they fall into the same camp, too.”
Aunt Blue twisted around in her chair, sporting a silly smile.
“…You done lost yo’ mind, just like Lily.”
“Huh? Why would you say that?”
“First of all, you could probablystandto share some cookies, as you call it, ’cause yours are getting dry and crumbly. Now how’s someone supposed to dip ’em in milk if they already fallin’ apart? They supposed to be moist.”
“Blue!” Iris cackled, embarrassed and entertained all at once. “You so nasty!”
“Blue, nothin’. It’s true. A pretty girl like you just wastin’ away! You a little too skinny, need some meat on your bones, but other than that, you’re a showstopper. Let me be able to be thirty-two again! Shiiiiid. You wouldn’t be able to tell me nothin’. Furthermore, you just got done doing a whole song and dance about how you hate it in Bordeaux, wanna move, want to start your business, sick of being paid peanuts, and here this man tells you that all you gotta do is sit down for lunch with some slow man, grab fifty dollars each hour you do, and go on your way. Then you have the nerve to be getting ready to pass it up and talkin’ ’bout how he find you pretty, and might wanna dunk yo’ cookies. You better set that cold, vacant oven between your legs on four hundred degrees, pour his ass a glass of milk, and call that man before he hire someone else, you crazy girl!” A vein pulsed on the side of Blue’s neck.
“Now usually you give good advice, but dementia must be setting in, Auntie!”
“I ain’t forget shit. You just don’t know how to live your life, so I’m taking over until you come back to your senses.”
“But what if he’s crazy?! I don’t know anything about this man.” She waved her hands about, surprised by Blue’s urging for her to do something she was certain should be avoided. “All I know is that he’s handsome, got a lot of money, a nice car, and is probably in his early to mid-thirties. And—”
“You are making this worse for yourself. Every time you open your mouth, you prove to me more and more that you and Lily reallyarecut from the same silly ass cloth. If you won’t call him, I will, shiiiid! GIVE ME THE NUMBER!” the older woman crowed. “He can crumble and crush my cookies, too…They might be old, but they still got flavor, baby! I’ll give himallof these chocolate chips! Dip! Dip! Dip!”
Iris burst out laughing.
“All right, fine! I’m going to call and ask him more about himself and the position. Then I’ll decide.”
“You go on and do that.” Blue turned back around to her vanity, seemingly satisfied, and gave her hair a final fluff. Smiling, she picked up her compact powder and started dabbing at her face. “I helped raise you, and let me tell you, girl, Aunt Blue ain’t raise no fool. Get them coins…”
CHAPTER FIVE
Mind the Business that Pays You
The sounds of,‘Where Do We Go,’ by Keran Vega, serenaded Jude as he sat at the large black glass poker table in his ‘Man Cave/Playroom,’ located inside of his five-bedroom, six-bathroom home. A cellar like he’d always wanted wasn’t a common feature in Nashville properties, but he’d lucked out.
Glowing red lights illuminated the area while a number of his friends shook dice or enjoyed a game of pool while scantily clad women milled about. These beauties graced the masculine furniture, nursing drinks or cigarettes as they moved in seductive ways—some clinging to his friends, who were in various stages of intoxication or a drug-induced high. Weed, cigar, and cigarette smoke filled the air, creating a dense miasma.
His phone buzzed, dragging him out of his thoughts.Two sales in the last nine minutes.His phone buzzed again three minutes later.Fourteen more sales confirmed scheduled, thirteen of them 3.5 grams of meth, 8-Balls.He used a special system he’d set up himself, and when his clients picked up their loot from his various locations around the city, or he had a hired hand do a delivery, he was automatically notified. His Cash App and Apple Pay were stacking nicely if he said so himself. He also accepted payments in bitcoin and used TOR when online. Everything in his financial records was in code—a succession of letters and numbers only he understood. He enjoyed keeping track of the sums, investments in stocks, CDs, cryptocurrencies and bonds had become a new hobby of his.
Okay, so, I made a little over a pound last month to sell. We need to work that up to two pounds. I cut out James and replaced him, mailed the shipment to L.A…. Cool. My to-do list is up to date. I knew it would pay off to spend more for quality. Cain tried to talk me out of it, to get it quick and easy with a dirty product, but I knew better. Make that shit shine like gold. Repeat customers are faster money than trying to get new ones all the time because your product is shit.
His meth was such good quality, he even had big clients in California and Las Vegas who ordered from him exclusively. Business was good… business was dangerous… business was business. He scrolled through the rest of his coded records, doing a double-check.
Yeah… I’ll transfer half of that money to J.P. Morgan in three days, then the other half to Japan Post.Japan Post was one of the biggest banks in the world. Having funds there helped hide some of his assets, which he’d worked to make untraceable. He’d also been to Japan twice, purely for pleasure.
Wells Fargo… check… that’s done, too.
He slipped his phone back in his pocket and watched everyone else play poker, as well as various other games. He was sitting this one out.
“Hey, Judge!” Rob, his third cousin—and a jock who was one of the few college-educated members of his family—hollered from across the room. Some family and friends joked that he was his doppelgänger they looked so much alike. “We need some more beer and wine coolers over here!” He pointed to an empty cooler.
Jude stood.
