None.
So you snort it, pick a willing girl and fuck it out of your system, then move on with your life and get back to work having earned Abel’s trust.
I could do that. Ididdo that, and so did my brother.
The issues began when Abel had me snort on Monday, then again Tuesday, then again Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. By the time the weekend rolled around, the pointed guns were unnecessary. Iwantedthe coke, and not only was it not a hardship, but I was willing to pay for it.
I was losing grip of what was real.
If I’d stayed clean, I might’ve been sharper. I might’ve been able to save Kane. If I’d stayed clean, I might not have died and ended up in a blizzard with no heating.
Turning away from my frozen windows with a shake of my head, I stop and glance at my computer when it dings again.
From: AcesAndEights
Subject: Don’t ignore me, motherfucker! I see you there
With narrowed eyes, I turn back to my windows and stare across the cityscape in search of Ace. The street lights are still on, but the snow is slamming against the windows and blocking most of my view. The sky is so black, not even stars shine through.
I keep a pair of binoculars by the window out of habit – a guy with twenty-two hours a day has time to stare out his window – so I bring them up as my stomach rumbles, and I scan the horizon in search of another apartment with their lights on.
Nothing.
Not a single one for as far as I can see.
Cars start inching toward the city. Factory workers who could never escape a life of manual labor are already up and moving, even with the snow and a promise of more to come.
My laptop dings once again and tells me my time is up.
From: AcesAndEights
Subject: Last chance, then I firebomb your apartment
Laughing, I toss my binoculars onto my desk and swing back around to sit. Opening the first email, I scan Ace’s information: Cole Fenney, age twenty-five, high school dropout, mafia ties, though tenuous at best – deceased.
I open the second email, roll my eyes at the repeated information and Ace’s requested confirmation that Cole is out, despite the fact he obviously already knows.
Opening the third email, I hit reply:
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From: KingOnD8
Subject: re: Last chance, then I firebomb your apartment
No need to firebomb, asshole. I’m right here. Cole’s out. I didn’t walk away until he bled out and his heart stopped. I have the blood on my knife and boots to prove it. I took a shower and made coffee – ya know, life’s basic necessities before one discusses women and murder. I got his phone and a contact for his boss – Pete. I got no surname, but I have a number, so I figure you can pull that info.
Let me know if you want me to drop the phone, where, what time, all that shit. If you don’t need anything else, then I’m going to get something to eat.
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From: AcesAndEights
Subject: re: re: Last chance, then I firebomb your apartment
Drop the phone in the usual place. Locker #384
Go there first, drop the package, then leave. I’ll have it collected within the hour, and when I pull the data, I’ll let you know what I find.