agnes. part three.

January 21, 2011 Posted by the writer

“Five for an elbow is too steep,” says Agnes shaking her head at Pedro while Duane studies the pair in disbelief. He legitimately thought he was offering them a deal. He’s not even making $300 out of it.

“Five is good ma,” he says. “I’m sorry yo. But it is.”

Pedro knows she won’t pay it. He knows she needs more than that. “Four or no deal.”

Duane is insulted. “Four?! Oh hell no. You can leave now on some four bullshit.”

Agnes is irritable. She wants a few lines to take the edge off. And some pocket money. She’s only going to pay four. She starts talking real business.

“Sixteen ounces in a pound means I’m paying $250 a Z. And that’s reasonable. Because if I move them at $300 each, I’m walking away with $800 bullshit dollars. And we’ve got 4Gs right now. Cash, son. So really, I’m not sure what we’re debating on.”

Duane’s already done four years in jail. He sacrificed his early twenties to bologna sandwiches and five dollar cigarettes. He promised himself he’d only move weight from now on. He rubs his bald head and runs his tongue along two gold front teeth.

“Well maybe you need to reconsider Mama. Because at sixty an eighth you might almost double your money.”

“I’m fucking 30 years old Duane,” says Agnes with an icy squint of her aqua green eyes. “I don’t sell eighths.”

Agnes unzips her backpack and pulls out half a dozen bundles of hundred dollar bills. Pedro has his finger on the trigger of a piece snugly tugged in his back pocket. Duane realizes they’re both serious and suddenly feels more flexible.

“Fine four. But don’t expect no more favours. Shit.”

You think she’s a corporate executive. You think that nylons and Calvin Klein scents are ordinary accessories.

Agnes is much more complicated than you are aware. You still aren’t 100% convinced that she stole the car Pedro is speeding her up Fifth Avenue in.

“Let’s get lit in Central Park,” she says to her best friend. “We haven’t done that in ages. Fuck it. Besides we aren’t meeting Martin for two hours.”

“I feel you Mama. He’s right on the west side. I’ll park near the museum. We’ll go for a walk, yeah?”

“Word.”

“You gonna tell me where you got the wheels from?”

“Does it matter?”

About the writer

avatar
gretchen's brain is preoccupied with words.

Comments are closed.

  • RSS Subscribe

  • Who's Online

    4 visitors online now
  • Select Archives

  • Disclaimer

    FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.
  • Popular Topics

 
Content Protected Using Blog Protector By: PcDrome.