Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I say, exasperated.
“How did it go?” Excitement sounds in her voice.
“Not well,” I groan.
“Shit, well, come on over. You can tell me all about it while we get ready,” she replies sympathetically.
“Okay, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes, I have to stop by the shop and get some clothes first,” I explain.
“Okay, hurry up, I can't wait to see you and talk,” she says before hanging up.
I head down the stairs and remove the rock from the door. Hmmm, I will probably need this again, so I place it in the corner inside the lobby. I shut the door, heading for my truck, and drive back to the flower shop. Arriving at the flower shop at 5:30 p.m., Ben has already left for the day. Unlocking the door, I enter the building and head back to the office, where I find Ben has left me a note.
Hey, C.
Hope moving went well today.
Delivered: 4 get well, 4 anniversary and 5 birthday arrangements today.
Invoices are on the desk. Can't wait to see you at Parker's B-day party.
Love ya,
Ben
Putting the note back on the desk. My phone rings. Digging it out of my pocket, I see Billy is calling.
Billy is the VP of the Rush Riders motorcycle club. He is tall, with dark blond shaggy hair, rippling muscles, and a happy-go-lucky attitude. I have never seen the guy when he was not smiling and flirting with me. I met him a few months ago when his grandmother was diagnosed with throat cancer. She is a little feisty seventy-year-old woman with a pit-bull attitude, but Billy is awesome with her. After finding out I sell on the side, he has become one of my best customers.
“Hey, girlie, I need a favor,” Billy comes through the line.
“What's that?”
“I need a zip of Will Robinson tonight.” Emphasis on the “tonight.”
“Okay, what time do you want to meet?”
“I have one problem,” he informs.
“What’s that?” I implore slowly, unsure of what he’s about to throw at me.
“Can you bring it to me?” he asks hesitantly.
“Shit, Billy!” I holler, rolling my eyes. This is not our normal routine. We always meet up somewhere, not go to one another’s place!
“I'm sorry, we’re having a party at the clubhouse tonight for three new prospects. I had to go on a run and totally forgot to call you, and now I won't have time to come by... please,” he begs in his most flirtatious voice.
“Fuck! Okay, I will be there around eight,” I sigh. I don’t want to go there, it’s a damn club, for Christ’s sake, and I’ll stand out being there.
“Thanks, sweetie, you’re a lifesaver. See you tonight,” he replies appreciatively.
If Ben decides to go in as partners with me, I am going to have to figure out somewhere else to keep this stuff. If I am ever found out and the authorities come in here, it would not just be me in trouble anymore. As a partner, they would hold him responsible too. That would be bad because he would be pissed to find out there was more in here besides the cancer patients’ marijuana. He and Jenna don't know about me selling to the Rush Riders.
The flower shop really only makes a good profit on Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day, it really just holds its own the rest of the year. So even after selling my mom's house I was still struggling to pay for the medical bills and funeral expenses. In order to make ends meet and cover the cost of supplying the marijuana for free to the patients, I sold marijuana secretly on the side to other people. College students are my biggest customers, but pretty much all walks of life smoke It, from CEOs to the guy bagging your groceries. With the profits I have managed to get all the bills paid off. I like the money and I like a lot of the people I meet doing it. Truthfully, I sometimes even like the feeling of doing something wrong.
I grab an outfit, some jewelry, and my cheetah print high-tops and put them in my gym bag.
I then go over to the filing cabinet, the bottom drawer locks so I have to dig through the desk to find the key. Gosh, I have a lot of keys. Unlocking the drawer, I grab the gun I have hidden there. I really don't know anything about guns. Walter down at the gun shop gave me this one. His wife was going through chemotherapy, and I was delivering one of the special vases of flowers to him when we struck up a conversation, during which he asked me if I owned one. When I told him no, he walked over to one of his gun cases and took out a Glock 21 pistol and some ammo. Handing it to me, he showed me how to load it and said, “What you’re doing is dangerous, you need it.” He insisted I take it. He wouldn't even let me pay for it. I keep meaning to take one of the classes he told me he holds, but I have just not had any time to do it. Besides, I rarely ever take it with me, but since I am going to a motorcycle club, it might be a good idea.