Powder

Bang! Bang! Bang! Gunshots rang out in the middle of a providence Rhode Island club. The patrons of which panicked and a stampede ensued. It was a calculated move. And the perpetrators went almost unnoticed through the frantic crowd toward a rear exit! “Get the fuck out the way!!” “Move!” Don’t do it!” the group waving guns at those in their way commanding the crowd to allow them a passage through the exit. Once outside a car parked across the way makes a beeping sound while simultaneously flashing its headlights. The deactivated alarm system coupled with a remote starting capability prepared the car for it’s soon to be occupants.
The three men made quick work navigating the street and into the waiting car... “Fuck dat bitch ass nigga!” the driver said as he pushed the German engineering machine to its limits. “Yow bad chargie, you dun know I don’t take disrespect from no boy! Born killa! yuh see mi!” a short dark member of the group mentioned as he broke down a section of the car’s interior around the sun roof feverishly shoving three pistols into the gap between the roof and its lining. He spoke with a thick accent indicative of the Caribbean.
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The night was quite young and the three friends were on a mission to get drunk and high, they had grown accustomed to the fast life and was enjoying the moment. They truly loved clubbing and drinking and above all else taking home a new woman at every given occasion.
They all lived on the same street and had been supplying coke and weed to the locals in their area.
Recently they had advanced to pills and heroine as the market demand for this had steadily increased as did the profit margins. But popularity of a new comer called fentanyl was all the rage and they just couldn’t keep enough of it, “this shit sells itself “ they’d joke as no longer did they have to seek customers, “once you got it they will find you” was the statement.
The only downside to this drug was its extreme lethality, lots of users would get a ride from which they never returned. There was an epidemic of overdose cases and the government, in an effort to crack down on the spread of the drug, had implement severe punishments for those caught selling the deadly product. But as one rapper put it “get rich or die trying”. And they were getting rich fast.
On an average day they would see upwards of ten thousand dollars in sales.
The more people your product killed the more people wanted to buy your shit. It was like everyone was in a race to die. Given the price of the ‘Fetty’ as the fentanyl was called in the street, they could buy it in bulk added to its potency, they could then ‘add a cut’ or dilute it with caffeine which was also rather affordable and make two kilograms from one. This would still be strong enough to be lethal. Bought for seven thousand a kilogram. Plus the eleven hundred dollars for the kilogram of caffeine. They’d sell it for two hundred dollars a bundle (a bundle is a ten pack of vials containing a gram per vial) would fetch them a profit of around thirty one thousand dollars. But the drug game has its risks. Rival vendor often fight over control of territory and the customers that come with it.
There were geographical boundaries separate from those established by the federal government which gangs administered as if they were a local ad hoc government. Groups would be locked in wars over redefining boundaries of these areas as different gangs looked to expand their own control.
It had been a pretty profitable day for the trio and they had decided what better way to celebrate than to go to the clubs and get laid. They generally avoided partying in their own town as their reputation tended to attract too much attention. As such they had chosen to drive two hours to providence out in Rhode Island as their destination for that evening.
They had been scoping out a few clubs there during this past week while there doing some ‘drops’ as they called the delivering of drugs., and had decided once they got a chance they would definitely go check them out.
Having called themselves G-city, they had thought was only right they went to the club called G-spot. They had asked around while they were working the area and most had recommended G-spot as a great starting point to see the town, its popularity was second to none amongst those they’d ask.
They were in the process of seeking out a clandestine parking spot, not too close to be noticed upon arrival or caught by club security camera, nor too far from the as to be out of reach in case they had to resort to a speedy escape.
Their usual mode of operation at clubs was to make their way into the club and after a moment they would go hang out with the security guards at the entrance or the rear if one existed, at which point they would spark up a fairly lengthy conversation, offer some drinks and even smoke some weed with the staff all while they would be meandering back and forth across the threshold of the door in an attempt to distract the guards from the need to search them once they reentered for good. after some time one of them, the one with the Caribbean accent, known as Kash had made his way to the car while the other two kept the guard busy, he then returned, having hid the pistols upon his person, and after rejoining the conversation slip beyond the door and thus would they smuggle their weapons into the club. It was an unspoken rule they’d learned to live by wherein they would never enter and location they couldn’t manage to smuggle their weapons into.
“What’s good OG?” tommy a short stocky built member of the group asked of the guard as they all got together at the door and sparked up the conversation.
“What do you mean what’s good the bitches inside is what’s good, you aren’t from around huh? Cause everyone out here knows these bitches is good to the last drop…ha, ha, ha.” The guard replied which caused the guys to all break out in laughter.
“You right. You right!” Tommy added
“OG is it ok to spark up a blunt out here?” the third member of the group known as Ratty asked.
“Shit! As long as you got me some it is.” The guard replied
“Well that we do OG that we do!” Tommy added as he broke out a baggie and passed half of its contents to the guard.
“Oh Hell no! Y’all better pass me some of that blunt as well!” the guard requested which again got the group into a laugh. They obliged and handed the blunt to the guard who took a strong pull.
“Damn that’s some strong shit!” he commented as he took a second hit.
“California’s finest that’s what that is!” replied tommy “that’s Grand Daddy Purple right there” he told the guard who was now smoking like a locomotive engine.
“Yeah I love the G.D.P but, we don’t get enough of it out here you know?” The guard added before passing the blunt to Kash.
“Hey OG you able to have a drink with us would they mind?” Tommy asked
“Well we could have energy drinks! But you could just toss me the cash you know this job isn’t on Wall Street you know.” Replied the guard.
“You real smooth OG!” Tommy added
They chatted for a while before Kash did his thing and was back with the group as if he never left.
“Hey OG nice chopping it up see you in a while, we might as well go look at these bitches before someone else takes ‘em.” Ratty said and they all made their way inside the club.
Inside the club they made their way to the male restroom and each was handed his weapon by Kash, a fist pound and they returned to the general area, they stood for a second outside the restroom door scoping out the layout of the club before deciding on the dark area located next to what was obviously the rear exit.
They posted up backs against the wall watching the girls ride the poles on the dance stages. Several half naked girls made their way around the floor offering drinks and taking orders from the crowd. The guys ordered some drinks and started getting loose, whispering in the ears of the passing women.
They had been in the club for some time and were having a great time by their standards. Tommy had asked if they wanna blow some cash and the group decided a bit of a celebration would be nice. They had located an empty table and drew it over to their spot. Then asked three different waitresses to bring them bottles of Champagne and Cognac and an ice bucket with a dozen Red Bulls. The women obliged and were returning shortly with the requested items and even stuck around for a moment given the sizable tip that the group had handed them.
Tommy was soliciting the phone numbers of one of the waitresses when some guy went buy and bumped into the waitress before stepping backwards in shock apologizing, as he stepped backward however he’d unfortunately stepped on the shoes of Ratty who had without thinking open hand slapped the guy across the face.
The guy turned and started swinging his fists wildly which caused Kash and Ratty to break out in a full brawl with the guy. At some point a bottle was removed from the table and crashed into the unfortunate guys face. Blood gushed fourth and the security of the club had begun closing in on the scene of the incident. Alarmed and uncertain as to the guards’ ultimate action, Kash retrieved his pistol and let off several rounds in the air. A stampede ensued as the frightened patrons frantically ran for the doors. The trio also made a desperate push to the exit next to them which was now so crowded it might as well been a mile away. They all brandished their pistols and waving them in the faces of the crowd they started carving a clearance through the stampede to the door.
They were now speeding across state lines in an effort to disappear before anyone could provide a description of them or their car. Inside the car they remained silent for a great portion of the drive, as if in a contemplative state. The glow of the blunt they were smoking moved around from person to person like a trapped firefly exploring the confines of his enclosure.
The route by the almost fugitives was quite lonely, only the occasional rig laden with goods of whatever sort went by belching loudly as they did and expunging the thick diesel fumes so iconic of their metabolism. The two lane highway lined on either side by shadowy trees and the occasional lamp poles which seemed to be conducting some sort of reunion of the flying insect association, for they darted in and out of the light casted by the poles.
Their motion created quite spectacle as their wings caught the light at certain angles which created reflective surfaces and thus it was like the winking of Christmas lights on an intensely decorated tree.
The distance of each pole coupled with the rural setting of the area created a sequence of light and dark light and dark, which at the speed they were travelling made the light to appear pulsing across the faces of the occupants of the car as they traversed the highway, their face appeared as phantoms in some horror movie standing in a dark room where a hanging lamp swayed heavily back and forth bringing their grotesque face into view before quickly casting them back into the silhouettes.
A single cough broke the silence within the car as the lit blunt went from the back seat to the driver who, without taking his eyes off the road simply reached out and had it place between his fingers by Ratty. The transfer complete, he took a deep pull on the burning blunt before a long exhale. “Oh fuck I forgot we had the vodka back here!” exclaimed Ratty who then proceeded to retrieve the flask bottle of vodka in the pocket behind the driver seat.
Taking a quick gulp he passed the bottle to Kash in the front passenger seat “good looking” was the only words to escape Kash’s lips.