AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My family has been cooking and selling meth since before I was born, but this is the longest we’ve ever stayed in one place. Six months couch surfing with a family friend, a few weeks renting out the cheapest hotel available, then off again to a new location when we got run out of town by the law or a competitor. We’ve somehow managed to fly under the radar of the local police for years in this small California town.
“How much?” one of the officers grunts.
I furrow my brow as I look at my dad, who has his arms crossed over his chest. “And why should I trust you? Y’all are cops. You could be settin’ me up. This ain’t my first rodeo with the law,” my father spits out at them.
The policeman in the middle of the trio looks to the officer on his left, then on his right. The sick smiles twisting their faces make my stomach churn. Nothing good will come from this.
“You think this is the first we’ve heard of your operation?” the middle officer, apparently their leader, asks. “We’ve known about you since the day you stepped foot into this town five, six years ago. Sheriff Darren knows about every shitty meth den in this town. Weletyou carry on your business because it’s good for our business.”
I blink a few times, not quite believing what I’m hearing.
“And now you’re donelettingme conduct my business?”
“No. Now we’re changing the terms. You’re our hookup. You sell exclusively to us at a wholesale price, we keep and push the product, pocketing the difference.”
“Now why would I shoot my own business in the foot like that? Just to be shackled to the law? Why wouldn’t I simply close up shop and move on to the next town?”
The men stare at one another, sizing up each other and calculating their next move. Finally, the officer breaks the silence.
“This isn’t a courtesy call. This isn’t us asking permission. This is the goddamn law coming to your door and telling you how it’s going to be.”
“You gonna shoot me if I refuse?”
The officer laughs, though it’s hollow and haunted. Sinister.
“No. If you refuse, if you run, if you get some big idea to narc on us, I guarantee you’ll be begging me for a bullet. Death would be too easy, though. For someone like you, a special fucker with an ego as big as his addiction, I’ll pull out all the stops. You’ll be in a straitjacket, rocking back and forth in a padded cell, unable to get your next fix. I’ll ensure you have good enough healthcare to keep you in your new home for a long, long time.”
This resonates with my dad. I know the threat hit home when he shifts on his feet and uncrosses and recrosses his arms. My father is never anxious because he’s either high or punches whatever perceived threat comes his way. But right now? He looks like he might pee his pants.
“Well, hold on, now. No need to get graphic,” my father says, changing his stance. He’s softer this time, his shoulders curling in, his arms dropping to his sides. I’ve never seen him like this. “Now that I’ve had time to think about your offer, I agree that the terms are favorable.”
What have you just gotten us into?
I can’t stand to listen anymore. My heart can only take so much. Is there no justice in this world? No cosmic scale of right and wrong? How can so much evil exist without some sort of consequence?
Backing away from the crack in my door, I turn and plop down on my bed. It’s just a mattress on the floor, but it’s better than what I used to sleep on. As crazy as it may seem to others, my time in this shitty trailer is the most stable I’ve ever been.
I got to go to the same high school all four years, though that didn’t help me make friends. It was difficult earning trust when I couldn’t invite people over or tell them what my parents did for a living. When I showed up to class wearing long sleeves and long pants to cover my bruises, I was made fun of for being allergic to the sun.
Still, I knew I had someplace to come home to after school. That wasn’t a luxury I was afforded in the past. On more than one occasion, the school bus dropped me off, and I walked to the motel we were holed up in, only to find it empty. My mom always came to get me… eventually.
I shake my head of those thoughts and concentrate on the task at hand. My podcast. It’s not much, but I make some money from my true crime blog and the podcast. I would love to start a YouTube channel, but there’s no way I could record video footage here.
As I begin edits on my laptop, my bedroom door opens with a crash. I startle from my spot on the bed, scrambling away from the commotion on instinct.
“Come on, Gem. Time to cook. Got a big order, and they’re gonna keep on coming.” Randall takes two long strides to reach me and yanks me up by my arm. My laptop, headphones, and notebook fall from my lap as Randall half drags, half carries me into the living room.
I must be going crazy from all the stress, but I swear I hear the distant rumble of a motorcycle engine. Maybe I’m hallucinating about Axel and his bike as a way to comfort myself. Or, more accurately, as a way to mentally escape from what my family is forcing me to do.
The noise grows louder, closer, and then seemingly erupts all at once as if hundreds of bikes are revving their motors outside our trailer.
“What the fuck?” Randall mutters, releasing my arm so I stumble to the floor.
I remain crouched for a few moments, listening with the rest of my family.
“Who is that?” my mother asks no one in particular. She’s been passed out in her recliner in nothing but a tank top and dirty underwear. Sometimes, she doesn’t wake up for a whole day when she crashes. I’m surprised the noise got to her.
“Don’t fuckin’ know, but I’m about to find out,” my father grunts. He grabs his shotgun, slinging it over his shoulder as he opens the front door. “What the–”
