Free The Calm Before (Reign and Ruin novella) by Jules Hedger Page B

to be prepared.”
The two men stared at each other. Marty tried not to fidget. The
man sighed and opened the top button of his white, button-down
shirt. He leaned over and unlocked a safe hidden surreptitiously
into the wall near his feet, pulling out a bag of white and brown
powder separated into smaller, ounce-sized portions. He pushed it
across the desk and accepted the stiff paper envelope of cash
pushed back over to him.
    Marty tucked it
reverently into the large, inside pocket of his jacket and stood up
to leave. The manager of the drugstore lifted his feet onto the
desk and crossed them with two heavy thunks on the wooden top.
    “You know,
Marty, you could do so much better for yourself.” The clock ticked
even louder and with the heroin in his pocket all Marty wanted to
do was get out of there. “You sell enough of this stuff to be
making a mint, but you look awful. You should take care of yourself
more. You seemed to have aged nearly a decade since I met you a
year ago.”
    Marty forced
his face into a grin and ran a hand nervously over the stiff
stubble on his head.
    “Just . . . be
careful,” the man said. “You sell it. You should never take
it.”
    Marty nodded
and pushed through the door back into the chilly back room. He
sped-walked through the warehouse and into the employees-only
bathroom.
    His breath
quickened as he pressed his back up against the cold white tile and
pulled the bag out of his jacket pocket. Opening one of the ounce
bags carefully, he tipped a small line on the toilet bowl and
snorted it down. He closed his eyes and, fumbling to close the zip
lock, sat down on the floor to wait for the shakes to end.
    And eventually,
when the trembling and nausea was replaced with the normal feeling
of warmth and self-loathing, Marty splashed his face with cold
water and tried to tidy up the creases in his collar.
    Ricky turned
around on the stoop when he heard the swish of automatic doors and
held his hand up for an enthusiastic high five. Marty smacked his
head sharply and handed him a can of beer. Ricky looked up
hopefully.
    “Marty, do you
have anything else for me?”
    “Don’t be a
dick, Ricky,” Marty said good-naturedly. Ricky smiled and held out
his hand. Marty pulled out the bag, accidentally knocking a smaller
plastic bundle of glass marbles to the asphalt. Marty snatched them
quickly up again and Ricky eyed him curiously.
    “Marty, why do
you have marbles in your pocket?”
    “Never you
mind, just take your smack.”
    Ricky accepted
the plastic ounce bag and opened his can of beer with a sharp snap
and hiss. As Marty prepared to move off, he grabbed his hand.
    "Marty, man . .
. is there something you want to tell me?"
    Marty froze in
surprise and looked closer at his friend. He was serious. His face
was straight and concerned. Marty didn't think he had ever heard
Ricky show concern about anything other than youth culture and
getting fucked. And now, on the edge of a Friday evening where all
he usually did was get high, he wanted to talk?
    "Ricky, I'm
fine."
    "Nah, man.
You're not." Marty gaped as Ricky pushed his weight up with a
grunt. He placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked deep into
Marty's eyes. "You look old, man. You look sad."
    Sighing, Marty
tried to shrug off Ricky's hand but it gripped harder. Ricky's eyes
narrowed and the frown that creased down his face cracked through a
day's worth of construction site dust and dirt.
    "Ricky, I'm
fine," he pushed.
    "Prove it," he
said. "Spend some time with me tonight."
    No no no,
there is no time , Marty thought but even as those words rushed
frantically across his brain Ricky was pulling him down the steps
and hailing a bus.
    "Quality time,
my brother. I'll order a pizza and you can tell me why you look
like the entire world is on your shoulders."
    Because it
is , Marty thought. But the drugs were beginning to feel
relaxing and after all, why not? The Painter is usually up later
anyway. Some food and another hit wouldn't hurt.