Shorties: Number 60

Heart pounding in his ears, Frank accelerated out of the parking lot and onto the street.  A voice in his hidden earpiece said, “Ok Frank, this is a simple job.  All you gotta do is drive to the neighborhood and pull up to someone on the street.  They will come to your car and you ask how much for some snow?”

New to the police department, the Drug Enforcement Unit (DEU) recruited Frank for a simple reason.  No one in the neighborhood would recognize him.  The DEU knew there was narcotic activity in the area but needed more details and proof.  Frank simply had to buy some drugs from a person selling it.  Now that he was heading to the neighborhood, Frank wasn’t so sure accepting the job was a smart thing to do.  He replied, “Snow?  What is that?  Cocaine?”

“Yes, but you can call it anything you want. 

Frank approached a curve in the road and depressed the brake pedal.  The car failed to slow and Frank exclaimed, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Whatsamatter?”

The car finally slowed and Frank blurted, “What kind of f***ing car did you give me anyway?  A Pinto?  Really?  Why you giving me this death trap anyway?”

Frank heard laughter coming from behind the speaker in his earpiece.  Laughing himself, the voice said, “You are a guy who is hooked on drugs and sold off everything to get em.  The Pinto is all you can afford.  Bad brakes just makes you more believable.”

“It’ll also make me dead.  You bastards better not be messing with me or I’ll kill yaz when I get back.”

More laughter. 

“Sorry Frank.  This is legit.  We ain’t messin’ with ya.”

Taking a deep break and giving a big exhale, Frank said, “Ok.” 

There was silence as Frank drove.  He hadn’t been this nervous since playing his first college football game.  Adrenaline pumped through his veins.  He didn’t need cocaine.  He was high on the drugs his body was naturally producing.  He stopped a traffic light at the entrance to the neighborhood.  Frank started mumbling, “Can I do this?  Yes, you can do this.”

The voice in his ear confirmed. “You got this Franky.” 

“I ain’t talkin’ to you!  I got this.”

Chuckles were again in the background but the voice calmly said, “Sorry, Frank.  You can do this though.  You got this.”

Turning the car onto the predetermined street, Frank took in the dark surroundings.  He uttered, “God, this place is a dump.”

“Yep.”

Then he spied a thin youngster.  Instantly, he hoped this was not the person to make the deal.  “God, he’s just a kid.”

“It ain’t the kid we’re after.  We wanna nail his boss and his boss and his boss.”

Frank slowed the car and heard the brakes squeal.  “Here goes nothin’.” 

Brakes straining, the car stopped beyond where Frank wanted. He felt embarrassed by that.  The kid stepped cautiously toward the car.  Frank rolled down the window.  Looking this way and that and then at the lad, he asked, “You got any snow?”