Confessions of a Former Child Prodigy Turned Heroin Addict: Chapter 8 - The Importer
Background info:
The true story of how I went from being a former child actor, serial internet entrepreneur (selling my first startup at age 15 in a deal worth around $1.5M), finishing a master's degree in computer science from an ivy league university by the time I turned 21, to subsequently losing everything - becoming a large heroin dealer and severe addict by the time I was 23. I don't know how this will end, to be perfectly honest. I'm hoping it's a story of redemption in which I eventually get clean and sober, becoming healthy, happy, and successful.
This is a serial story with the first 7 chapters (linked below) completed thus far.
Introduction: https://steemit.com/fiction/@xmathemagician33/confessions-of-a-former-child-prodigy-turned-heroin-addict-introduction
Chapter 7: https://steemit.com/fiction/@xmathemagician33/chapter-7-the-outsider
I lost access to my previous SteemIt account so future updates will be posted under username @mathemagician-33
Chapter 8: The Importer
Andy had decided to stay in his hometown for a while so I continued handling most of our operations
myself, but there had been very little communication between Black, Jeff, and I lately. I had no idea why
or what was going on, but Jeff hadn't been by in weeks and I couldn't seem to reach him or Black. I had
nearly $100k of their money and was getting nervous. Eventually, our supply was dwindling and we were
going to be sold out of everything in the next few days. I really didn't want to show up to Black's house
unannounced, but after mulling it over for a while I saw no other option.
Black and his family lived in West Philly, but slightly further west than where most of the “street activity”
(dealers on corners, hookers walking by, junkies panhandling for dope money, etc) took place. His area
was actually rather nice and consisted of all single-family homes, though not at all geographically far
removed from the grittier areas of West Philly. I climbed the stairs to Black's porch and rang the doorbell.
Black's wife, Jasmine, answered with an extremely glum expression on her face. She had clearly been
crying.
“Hey Reese, you alright? You hear what's been going on?”
“Nah, that's why I'm over here. I can't find Black or Jeff and I really need to see them soon.”
“I don't think that's gonna happen, Reese, at least not no time soon. Black got picked up the feds. They're
seizing assets left and right. Even trying to take Black's mama's house. It's all fucked up right now. I know
Jeff decided he had to get out of town pretty quick, but I don't know exactly where he's at, which is
probably for the best. I don't know what to do Reese,” Jasmine said as tears started rolling down her face.
I felt so bad for her. She didn't ask for any of this. She worked a modest job as an office administrator and
always had as far as I knew. She wasn't “in the streets” the way her husband was.
“Aight Jas, just be cool and we'll get through it. The kids alright?”
“I mean, they as aight as they gon' be, I just need to focus on bail money right now. It's a quarter mil and
we about half there.”
“I got you. I have about a hundred racks of Black's money but nobody's been by to collect it. I'll take care
of the rest.”
She hugged me and started crying. I did briefly consider the possibility, but she couldn't have been
involved in what happened next. She was way too emotional, and it was real emotion. Like I indicated
earlier, this sort of thing is usually very obvious to me due to my acting background. I can pretty easily
distinguish between real and fake emotion. I promised to bring the money by the next morning and began
walking back to my house.
As I was walking, I noticed two banged out Hispanic dudes eyeing me from across the street. I didn't have
my gun on me, but I also didn't really have anything of value on me. As I began to reach a more deserted
area, they started staring me down pretty hard, and slowly began to cross the street towards me, speeding
up to the point that they were nearly directly behind me in a matter of seconds.
I sped up, but it was pretty clear what was going on at that point, and they had me cornered in a matter of
seconds.
“The fuck y'all want?” I asked, making sure to maintain eye contact to look like I wasn't intimidated. At
that point, one of them lifted his shirt to show me the gun in his waistband.
“Like I asked, WHAT THE FUCK Y'ALL WANT?” I once again probed, not only refusing to back down,
but doubling down on my attempt to appear calm and not scared.
“We just here to talk, bro, chill. The boss wants a sit-down with you.”
“What boss?! I don't even know who the fuck y'all are.”
“We new in town, son, but you gon' be hearing about us, trust me.”
These were New York dudes. I could immediately tell from the slang and the Yankees hats they were
sporting. What the fuck were they doing in Philly? Everybody knew that Philly wholesalers only go to
NY for coke. Wholesale heroin was always sourced either locally, or from Baltimore, and occasionally
from New Jersey. There are still certain towns in Jersey like Paterson that primarily export their dope as
they have far more heroin than they know what to do with.
“Listen son, we ain't here for no static, the boss just wants to talk.”
“When?”
“Well... now.”
“Nah man, I got shit goin' on, take my number and call me tomorrow.”
One of them pulled out his cell, presumably to call his boss, spoke a few words in Spanish, and hung up.
“Look, it ain't no disrespect but we gotta bring you to him now. He finna pull up in a minute.”
I sighed, “Fine. This better be quick. I still don't know who the fuck y'all are.”
When a cream colored BMW pulled up a couple minutes later, I knew I was about to talk to someone
fairly high level. At first, I thought it may have been Black's supplier, but I soon realized it was the “new
players moving in” that Splitz had previously alluded to.
Fernando was in the backseat of the BMW with who I assume was his chauffeur driving. Fernando
opened the backseat door as the car pulled up and motioned for me to enter. I was not crazy about getting
into a car with an obviously high-level drug distributor that I didn't know, but I didn't exactly have much
choice in the matter.
“Pleasure to meet you, Reese. I'm Fernando,” he said extending his hand for me to shake.
I gave him a thousand-yard stare, refusing to shake his hand. And how the fuck did he know my name?
“Alright, that's cool, I get it, you don't know me – but I'm trying to be your friend. I literally just stopped
those 2 gangbangers from roughing you up.”
So that's what else was said on the phone call.
“So what's the deal? They work for you? Who are you guys exactly?”
“Well, something like that. I don't normally deal with the local guys, you could say I'm a bit above their
pay-grade. I know Philly is different though. Little to no national gang ties who already have
infrastructure set up. No Bloods, Crips, GDs, or Vice Lords. That's why I'd rather talk to guys like you
who started small but are clearly capable of much more.”
“How the fuck do you know so much about me?”
“I've done my research, Reese.”
“Nah bro, I'm a tech dude who specializes in information security, I know for a fact that I have zero
digital footprint related to drugs. I've worked hard to make sure of that over the past few years.”
“Yeah, sure, the college kids and yuppies you serve aren't gonna know, but you really think I get my info
from the internet? You obviously know that the streets talk. My guys have seen you making deliveries.
And that encrypted messaging thing you made for the phones! I got so excited when I heard about that,
you're obviously smart as fuck.”
I wasn't immune to his flattery, and I became a bit more relaxed after that, though I still disliked the fact
that he knew so much about me.
“I know you're doing your thing with Black, but--”
I cut him off, saying, “I can tell where is headed. I'm a loyal dude. Black's been good to me. I'm not
jumping ship.”
“I wouldn't dream of asking you to. All I'm saying is, if things end up... falling through with Black, you
could make a fuck of a lot more money with me. What's the most dope you've actually seen? A ki or 2?
That's nothing, and the shit I get is straight raw. You can step on it 7 or 8 times and still put out good
product... but my thing is coke. I don't really know H. That's why I need someone like you.”
He pulled out a vial of coke and poured himself a knuckle bump which he promptly snorted and then
offered to me. I politely declined, but at that point started chuckling at the hard sell he was very clearly
giving me.
“I'm good bro, let me out at the corner.”
“Just take my number Reese, you never know how things are gonna play out.”
I was definitely going to give everyone I worked with a strict lecture about keeping their mouths shut. I
was not happy that a dude from a different city was apparently able to find out far more details about my
life than I was comfortable with him knowing. I wanted to talk to Andy about it face to face as I did not
feel comfortable having that conversation over the phone, but I did talk to my runner and dispatcher about
it immediately afterwards. Both of them denied talking to anyone besides myself, Andy, Jeff, and Black,
but I really couldn't be sure. It could have just as easily been one of them or a customer who decided to
open their big mouth.
I tried to forget about it and started the process of bagging up bundles for the next day's customers. I
ended up getting pretty stoned while absorbed in my routine and lost track of time. Before I knew it, it
was nearly midnight and I was yawning, ready to get back to my house and pass out after a long, stressful
day. I was dozing in and out of consciousness when I heard a loud knock at the door. It was Black's
brother Skeeter along with a friend I didn't recognize. Black had told me at one point that his brother was
not really involved in his business, but I didn't think anything strange about him showing up that late.
Things were obviously abnormal at the moment, and I just assumed he was here at the instruction of
either Black or his wife.
“What up man, you here for that paper Jasmine's waiting on? I was gonna bring it to her tomorrow.”
“Yeah, it's all good, lemme just get that now.”
“Aight, gimme a sec. I got Black's money stashed separately.”
“Nah man, I ain't just here for Black's shit. All the money. NOW.”
What the fuck was going on? I had no idea what to think, but Skeeter had just drawn a very large
handgun. He motioned to me and said, “Tell my boy where it's at. You stay right here, Reese. Go get that
bruh.”
I told him where all the money was, which fortunately wasn't that much considering I had been moving
my money to my house every few days... but I really did not understand what the fuck was going on. I
found it extremely unlikely that Black or his wife would try to rob me. I was pretty sure Skeeter was on
his own with whatever plan he was trying to execute.
I had a large amount of money in the apartment's toilet tank, which was shrink-wrapped multiple times to
keep it dry. After Skeeter and his friend left, I checked all my hiding spots and noticed the oddest thing.
The bag of money had been replaced by a pistol which had the serial number filed off. At that point I
really started to panic. It seemed like these guys were trying to set me up for something and I was not
about to go down for a murder or shooting that I didn't even commit. As fast I could get myself together, I
removed the pistol, making sure to only handle it with latex gloves (to avoid fingerprints) and wrapped it
several old grocery bags. The details aren't that important, but I spent roughly the next two hours getting
rid of it in a location far enough from my residence to make me feel comfortable.
I really did not know how I was going to break the news to Jasmine though. She was going to be
devastated. I called her first thing the next morning.
“Hey Reese, you about to be on your way?”
“Jas, I got some bad news... I got robbed last night. By fucking Skeeter and one of his boys. You know
anything about this? They took everything I had Jas.”
“Wha-?! What the fuck? Are you serious right now?”
“Yeah, it's fucked up. You know where he's at?”
“That nigga been sayin' he out of town! Jesus Christ, I been telling Black to just cut that broke ass nigga
off for years! Oh God, how am I gonna get his bail now?”
She started bawling. I felt terrible for her.
“I'm so sorry Jas. Lemme see what I can do.” I still had some product that I could move and hopefully
help out that way, though I couldn't say that on the phone. “It'll be alright, Jas, just take care of your
family for now. I'll be in touch soon.”
I was able to track Skeeter down later that day with a handful of phone calls. He had been staying in a
local trap house/shooting gallery that I was vaguely acquainted with, having sold to the owner a couple of
times. I walked in the front door and immediately saw Skeeter nodded out on the couch in the living
room. I yanked his head back by the scruff of his hair and pressed my gun to his temple while “loudly
whispering” in his ear though still trying to be quiet. I didn't want the other 5-6 passed out junkies getting
involved.
“Thought you weren't gonna see me again, Skeeter?! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY MONEY?!”
“Shit, Reese, Reese, calm down. I was just doing a job for someone, I don't even got it no more. Dude
named Fernando. Said you knew him.”
Now I really did not know what the fuck was going on. Fernando was very clearly a high level drug
importer. My/Black's $100k would have been peanuts to him. The only thing I could think of was that he
had some kind of vendetta against me due to my rejection of his offer to work for him. After thinking it
over for a few minutes, I decided to call him and see if I could find out what this was about. He answered
on the first ring.
“I see you got my message.”
“That wasn't no message bro, you sure you wanna go down this road?”
“Reese, I told you, it's not like that. I just wanna talk. I got everything waiting to give back to you. I was
just trying to get your attention. One conversation with me, that's all I ask. If you aren't with it, it's all
good, we go our separate ways and I'll give everything back.”
I really had no idea if this was some kind of set up or not so I decided to give myself at least a night to
think it over. I still didn't know why they stashed that pistol at our trap house – the only thing I could
think of was that it was an attempt to plant evidence and frame me for something or other.
“I'll let you know in the morning. Keep your phone on.”
Up Next: Chapter 9 – New Connections