High Achiever Page 19

  “Hey!” I screamed, trying to wriggle away. “Stop, man. What the hell are you doing?”

  His voice softened, and he loosened his grip a bit but didn’t let go. “You said you wanted to hook up, I been thinkin’ that’s what was finna happen dis whole time, I mean look,” he said, grabbing his junk, “you got me all excited.”

  “Listen, Laz, I’m sorry about this, it’s my bad. I should have told you. Maybe we can do this another time. Okay? I just…I have to be somewhere soon, so I don’t have time. Let’s just do it tomorrow, cool?” I said, trying to defuse the situation.

  He let go of my arm and bounded over to his dresser. For a split second I thought for sure he was about to whip out a pistol and force me to have sex with him. Instead he opened up a baggie and scooped out some pills.

  “Here, man. Sorry about grabbing you. I just been wantin’ you for a long time, you know? It’s driving me crazy.” He dropped a few pills into my hand and I handed him the fifty.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I said, heading to the door, wanting to run full speed but trying to remain as calm as possible.

  “A’ight, mama,” he said, looking me up and down as he shut the door behind me.

  I sprinted to the car and locked the doors as soon as I got in. I was in shock about what had just occurred. I’d been going to Laz for years and he’d never tried me like that.

  I wanted to tell my boyfriend about it, but obviously I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell Kayla either because she was best friends with Laz, and she would probably say something that would piss him off. I couldn’t tell anyone. I would just have to bury it, like I did every other fucked-up thing that had ever happened to me.

  As I went to put the pills into the secret compartment of my purse, I realized that Laz had given me seven of them. I was so shaken up in his room I didn’t even realize it. I’m not going to lie, it made me feel a little better about the situation.

  I pulled out of his driveway and headed down the road. I decided to do a pill before the long drive home; I needed to calm my nerves. I pulled over on a dark side street and crushed one up really quick. I was in a really crappy part of town but I didn’t want to wait until I got into the main part of town to do one. I needed to get fucked up as soon as possible after what had just happened.

  I quickly snorted the pill and licked the remaining powder off the car manual I’d crushed it up on. As I turned the headlights on and hit the gas, the car didn’t move. I pushed the gas again and…nothing.

  Panic rose within me as I checked all the lights and switches to see what was happening when suddenly it dawned on me. I never got the ten dollars from Laz. Oh my God. Eliot was sitting home waiting for me to get back from the store five minutes from our house and I just ran out of gas at midnight in the middle of the ghetto on the opposite side of town….How the hell was I supposed to explain this?

  36

  I paused for a moment, trying to get a read on Dr. Peters. I knew she had a flight to Japan this evening, and I didn’t want my ramblings to hold her up. It felt as though I had been talking for hours, but in reality, it had been only minutes.

  Dr. Peters was looking at me as if she had been in the car with me when it wouldn’t start. Her face looked terrified, like she was just as screwed as I was in that moment. I didn’t even ask if she wanted me to stop this time; I figured she would let me know when she had to go.

  * * *

  —

  I furiously slammed my foot on the gas pedal as Kayla’s voicemail picked up for the tenth time in a row. Pounding the steering wheel out of frustration, I turned the key off and began to sob. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to call Lazarus; he would probably invite me to stay there—and we all know how that would turn out.

  I couldn’t call Eliot, because I was supposed to be at Walmart five minutes from the house…

  Think, Tiffany, think.

  I began flipping through my internal Rolodex once again. It’s amazing how quickly one’s mind can race when it’s in “scheme and manipulation” mode. Each person that popped into my head was immediately shot down for various reasons, and each moment that passed made it harder for me to avoid being caught in this predicament.

  Suddenly it hit me…Mitch.

  Mitch and I used to be best friends, well, the kind of best friends who slept together often. Anyway, I would spend every waking moment with him, and if I’m being honest, one of the main reasons was that he was a drug dealer, and he was ridiculously rich.

  Mitch was born into money and always had everything he ever wanted. Once he became the biggest dealer in my town, the guy had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He would buy houses for his friends. We would go to a movie and he would buy every ticket for the row in front of us just so he didn’t have to look over people’s heads. He was fun to be around, but he was crazy.

  I hadn’t spoken to him since…crap. Since I robbed him and ran out of his house with ten pills. Damn it, Tiffany, why can’t you just be a normal person? I thought as I dialed his number anyway out of desperation. Maybe he’d forgotten.

  My heart pounded as I waited for him to answer.

  “Well, well, well. I thought you had my number blocked. I’m amazed you were able to find it after all these years.”

  “Hey, Mitch, what’s up, man,” I said sheepishly.

  “Oh, not much. Just um, ya know, wondering where the hell my pills are that you stole from me three years ago. I would have asked you a while ago, but…you blocked my number, and you blocked me on Facebook, and then…ya know, moved to another town. So, other than that…not much is up,” he said, clearly making his point.

  “Listen, Mitch, I know. I am so sorry, I never should have done that to you and I feel like a real asshole about it. I have the money, I can pay you back.” Liar. I am a liar; why the hell did I just tell him that? I don’t have two hundred fifty fucking dollars. What the hell is wrong with me?

  He was silent for a while and I could tell he was thinking.

  “Tiff, it’s not about the money. You hurt me. You were like a sister to me and then you just disappeared.”

  I tried my best not to be offended after he referred to me as a sister, seeing as how we had done things that normal siblings don’t do.

  I had to win him over again and I hoped that he would miss me so much that he would be willing to overlook this small blunder on my part.

  “No, I know, Mitch. Like, when people ask me if I have a brother, I’m always like, ‘Yeah, but…we don’t talk anymore, it’s so sad,’ ya know? Cuz you’re like, totally my bro, bro.”

  I glanced nervously at the clock and began to panic. I should have been home by now.

  “Listen…Mitch, I know you hate me. I don’t blame you. But I have no one else to turn to and I’m in a bind. If you can help me out tonight, I will owe you my life. I will pay you back with interest. I’m begging.”

  I did my best impression of a damsel in distress as I explained my predicament. I told him everything—minus the fact that my boyfriend was a cop—and pleaded with him to bring me a can of gas.

  I could hear his engine before I could see his car, but I knew it was him. No one else in this part of town had a car that purred like that. His Lamborghini pulled up beside me and he rolled down his window and smiled.

  “Hey, pretty lady, you need a lift?” he joked, in a terrible country accent.

  “Shut the hell up and put the gas in before someone steals your car, idiot; you do realize where we are, right? I can’t believe you brought that car.” He owned so many cars, he could have made a less conspicuous choice.

  After he finished putting the gas in, he climbed into the passenger seat of my car and shut the door. He had a briefcase on his lap and was smiling at me awkwardly without saying a word as he tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear. He was probably on s
hrooms.

  “What’s…up?” I asked, nervously glancing at the clock. Now was not the time for small talk, I had to fucking go.

  “I miss you,” he said, giving me a puppy-dog pout. Jesus Christ. What is this?

  “I miss you too, man. Thanks so much for saving me, it really means the world—”

  “Yeah, so on the way over I did some thinkin’,” he said. “And I thought of a way that you could repay me for, well, for the money you owe me and for tonight.”

  Oh God. Here we go. Two guys trying to get me to do sexual favors in one night. This was getting out of hand.

  “Look, Mitch, I can’t do anything with you anymore, okay? I’m in a relationship with a great guy. I told you I could get you the money—”

  “Shhhhh,” he said, placing his finger over my lips. “I’m not trying to bang you, don’t worry about that. Speaking of, have you been putting on weight? I hear when you get into a relationship you let yourself go, but Jesus—”

  “Fuck you, dick. What the hell do you want? Do you want pills? I just got like ten of them, you can have a couple, I just need like four for tomorrow.” I was growing more and more impatient by the minute and just wanted him out. And now I felt fat on top of everything else.

  “Here’s what you are gonna do,” he said, sitting up straight. “I’m giving this briefcase to you. You are in charge of it. You need to get rid of everything that’s inside it and once you do, you will not only have made enough money to pay me back, you will also have a couple hundred left over for yourself. Sound good?”

  “Um, well, no. Not really. It doesn’t sound good at all, actually. What the hell is in there?” I asked.

  “Just take it, open it when you get home. I’ll text you the code to unlock it once you get to your house,” he said, opening the passenger door.

  “No, dude, this is weird, and sounds complicated and…I’ll just give you the money, okay? I’ll pay you interest for the um…years that have passed since I took your stuff.”

  “Nope. I’d like you to take the briefcase. It would be helping me a great deal, and it would also make me feel better because it would show that you genuinely do care about our friendship. I’m leaving it here,” he said, standing up out of the car.

  “No thanks.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “What the hell is this, Deal or No Deal? I don’t want the fucking briefcase. Listen, I have a feeling I know what’s inside and honestly, I can’t mess with stuff like that. I didn’t tell you before but…my boyfriend, he’s actually in law enforcement, so I gotta be really careful what I do,” I said, knowing damn well the minute he heard that he would run for the hills.

  He laughed.

  “You think I don’t know your boyfriend is a cop, Tiff? It’s a small town, everyone knows. All the more reason for you to take it,” he said with a devilish smile.

  “What the hell? That doesn’t make sense. Why is the fact that my boyfriend is a cop more of a reason for me to take your illegal briefcase of God knows what?” I asked, desperate to go home.

  “Because I have been recording our entire encounter,” he said, pulling out his cellphone and waving it at me. I could see the big red record button. Just above it read 15:23. “So if you don’t take this shit and get rid of it for me, I may just have to send him this recording anonymously. He will probably be surprised, don’t you think? I mean, you’re a pretty good liar, just look at how you lied and pretended you missed me just so I’d help you. You are a user, a thief, and a liar. It sucks it has to be like this, but I’ve been hurt for a lot of years, Tiff, now it’s your turn.” He slammed my door shut…and walked away.

  I stared out my windshield in shock and listened as his Lambo started up and peeled away. It wasn’t until my phone rang that I snapped back to reality and realized I had somewhere to be.

  “Shit. Hey, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m on my way now. The lines were so long and then my card wouldn’t work and for some reason my car wasn’t starting but I got some chick to jump it and…whew. I’m on my way. I need a hug when I get home, okay?” I said. The last part was true. I needed someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay because right now it felt like everything was falling apart.

  My heart pounded the whole ride home. As I reached for the handle of the front door, it swung open and Eliot was standing there with a sympathetic look on his face. “Come here, baby. I am so sorry you had a bad night.” His hug momentarily made everything disappear. I took a deep breath inside his embrace and desperately wished that I were someone else, anyone else. I wished I could be normal; he deserved normal. I hated myself and wanted desperately to crawl into a hole and never come out.

  “What’s in the briefcase?”

  His question sent a shiver down my spine and I gripped the handle tightly. “Oh…it’s…my boss, Kathy, the manager bought it for me. She said I could use it for the deposits and stuff at work,” I lied.

  “Well, look at you, Miss Business Woman Pants. I made some popcorn and have the movie ready whenever you are,” he said, following me inside.

  “Awesome. Just give me one second. I want to pee and change into something comfy.”

  I texted Mitch as I entered the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I was pulling my pajama shirt over my head when I heard my text message alert go off. My heart started racing; he had sent me the code.

  I opened the text and read:

  Thanks again for all your help, great catching up. Hope to hear from you soon. 669.

  I threw the phone down on the bed and picked up the briefcase. I didn’t know what was inside, but I knew I had no choice but to look. I was still in shock about the whole interaction, mainly because I thought I was the one doing the manipulating. In reality, he was one up the entire time.

  I shut the bathroom door behind me and sat on top of the toilet seat. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I said, pulling the leather briefcase up onto my lap. My hands shook as I fumbled to line the numbers up on the combination lock. 6…6…deep breath…9. Click.

  37

  The briefcase squeaked as I pulled it open. I already knew what was inside before I looked. But the moment my eyes fell onto its contents and my suspicions were confirmed, I couldn’t help but gasp.

  I slammed the lid shut immediately and took a deep breath. My heart was pounding, and the room began to spin. This can’t be real.

  I reopened the lid slightly and peered inside. Hundreds of little plastic baggies were thrown in haphazardly, a kaleidoscope of illegal substances. There were countless bags of Roxicodone—my drug of choice—and each bag contained about ten pills. There were also baggies filled with a white substance that I could only assume was cocaine, as well as weed and other pills I didn’t recognize. Mitch included a slip of paper with a total of the amount he expected from me in return. When I’d sold for him in the past, it was never anything close to this amount.

  I was sitting in a cop’s house with a briefcase full of thousands of dollars’ worth of pills on my lap. Even if I wanted to sell all this, I wouldn’t know where to begin—and it would take me years to get rid of all of it. Did Mitch seriously think I was going to ride around town slinging drugs out of my damn trunk? Jesus, what if I got caught with this thing? I could see it now: Cop’s girlfriend arrested with six billion pounds of narcotics.

  This was bad. This was really bad. A few hours ago, I was withdrawing on my kitchen floor and wanting to die, then I was injected with drugs for the first time, was almost molested by my drug dealer, ran out of gas in the ghetto, and was rescued by an old friend who forced me to take a briefcase filled with a pharmacy’s worth of drugs. What the hell kind of Twilight Zone episode had my life become?

  I tucked the briefcase into the closet under a pile of clothes and headed out to the living room where Eliot was w
aiting patiently, a bowl of popcorn in his lap and the movie paused. He’d picked a movie titled Sinister. How fitting.

  * * *

  —

  Two weeks had passed since I’d acquired the briefcase and, I must say, I was doing surprisingly well unloading the merchandise. I had researched “How to Be a Good Drug Dealer” and learned some pretty neat tips, the most helpful being that people would buy more if you offered them a discounted rate for buying in bulk. I had gone straight to Lazarus and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse for the pills—or at least the pills I didn’t want to keep for myself. Lazarus didn’t deal with other drugs, so I had to go elsewhere to offload those. I’m not gonna lie, it felt pretty awesome slingin’ drugs out of my leather briefcase; I considered asking people to start calling me Pablina Escobar but didn’t want to get ahead of myself.

  Also, I’m pretty sure Pablo Escobar never injected himself with his own supply. I knew it was going to happen the minute I saw all those bags in the case. I’m an addict, for God’s sake. It’s like giving a kid an ice cream cone and telling him not to eat it.

  I was regularly injecting myself to get high as opposed to snorting. I found that when I shot up, I didn’t need to do as much. It was a smart financial move on my part to give up snorting the drugs.

  I was already in debt before receiving the briefcase, and now the debt had tripled from doing the drugs in the briefcase instead of selling them. I needed to come up with a plan—and quick—before I was forced to leave the country and hide from Mitch for the rest of my life.

  “If we were to get a puppy, what kind would you want to get?” Eliot asked, scrolling through pictures of dogs on the phone.

  “A small, cute, fluffy one. Preferably one that doesn’t poop,” I replied. I had been begging Eliot for a puppy for a really long time since I’d never had a pet of my own. He always refused, but I finally got him to cave. We were leaving the house in an hour and returning with a new member of the family. I couldn’t wait.