~ Saturday Morning ~
A stressed out Blake can’t keep his mind focused on a particular thing. One minute he’s looking at the couch, and then the hole in the wall, and the next he’s thinking about Ron’s pink lips. It all frustrates him, to the point where he has to have a shot of whiskey at 9:30 in the morning to overcome the madness exploding inside of his head.
Madness. It is the perfect word to describe Blake’s life. Ever since he was born, his life has been madness. But here he is, constantly saving other people and making sure everyone’s needs are met before his. Who would tame Blake the way Blake tames everyone else? He was sure it’d be Ron, but at the same time, Blake was uncertain with Ron.
I can’t be thinking about him right now. That fool is only gonna raise my blood pressure.
Another whiskey to the head. Another bottle out the fridge. Blake got his best thoughts when he was drunk. Being sober only put a damper on his mood, and he couldn’t afford to be sober with what he was about to do.
The two most important people in his life are locked up. This always made him belligerent with rage. They were the only two people who nurtured him from his adolescence when his parents couldn’t do it for him. They taught him street smarts and life skills and how to defend himself as a young black man in America.
“As a young black man, everyone expects the same out of you. You have to be your own person. You have to play this game intelligently.”
Blake getting on the expulsion board was probably the most unintelligent thing he could do. He put his gang members in jeopardy. Made them fearful and paranoid, and on top of that he had a newbie in on the drama too. This all made him angry and discouraged. How would he still make a profit if he had to keep dipping into the drug funds to support his cousin’s jail bond? He couldn’t make it unnoticeable, as the gang members knew he kept taking money out of their inventory to do God knows what with it. But what he couldn’t do was keep affording supply and risk getting in trouble by selling to other territories that weren’t his to claim. He had to buy more stock though. All of their regulars would want their dose of Mary Jane or crystal next week. He couldn’t just sit back and let his business crash and burn.
So he sketched out a plan. He had to do something. “Profit” is the key word in his head as he thinks over and over again if what he’s about to do is a smart idea or not. How would he even carry it out himself? But overall, his plan made decent sense if done accordingly.
Gang needs new supply of drugs to sell to clients next week.
Due to Blake dipping in and out of the inventory for his personal purposes, they are always lacking in what they should have and therefore, selling the supply gets pointless after awhile. But Blake cannot stop.
In order to make even more money, Blake would have to have a large mass of product without paying a dime for it, and in order to do that, Blake would have to visit TJ’s labs and farm and steal the product himself. That way, there’s more than enough drugs to sell and they’d make the money plus some because Blake wouldn’t have paid for any of it.
Was it such a good idea though? Blake had been in good cahoots with his supplier TJ ever since his cousins were still around and in the game. Could he just stab him in the back like that? Steal from his merchandise and make a better profit off of it? Could Blake really do that?
He had no choice. It was the only way to ensure his family would be okay.
Even if that meant he had to die for it.
Blake would make it look easy. Since he had known TJ for years and was known as a generally loyal customer, everyone would have their guard down around him. TJ wasn’t just a regular supplier either. Blake liked to call him a “Drug Lord.” TJ has connections in Mexico with all sorts of organizations and has several secret labs for drugs like cocaine and ecstasy and a huge farm located in the hills to grow massive cannabis. Blake knew the type of trouble he was juggling with, but he continued to ride out the pain. He drove for miles on top of miles it seemed, longing for his miserable life to take a drastic turn one day. He hoped to turn into a wealthy billionaire who lives in a fancy eight-story home with a posh puppy, a staff assigned to every duty in the house, with a dashing husband to make love to every night while taking beautiful vacations across the globe and beyond.
Dreams were easier to come true when you had the right assets already. Blake wasn’t rich, he didn’t even like animals all like that, and finding a man to love was much more difficult with a dark background trailing him like a shadow. What was even his type in a man anyway, other than him liking them slightly smaller than him, slightly girlier than him, and a tad bit on the sensitive side?
Blake tries to erase the image of Ron out of his head. He smirks while doing so. It’s hard not to picture Ron when thinking about a type because Ron is so close to being his type.
He’s perfect, Blake thinks to himself, and then his mind is filled with images of Ron’s soft, golden hair and his big blue eyes that sometimes morph green in a certain light or at a certain angle. His frame is perfect as he’s very short and slender for a 15-year-old. Blake admires his Germanic features which compliment his unique facial structure so well. Ron is undoubtfully a beautiful kid and Blake can’t believe that Ron would think otherwise. It was kind of crazy because Ron was on his mind more and more these days. He was Blake’s only piece of sanity so far. The older really wished he could’ve kissed him the night before. He was right there...
...but yet so far away.
And so was the sight of TJ’s lab right in front of him.