Addicted. Addicted. Janice needed a hit. She wandered the lamp lit streets of New York, towards a secluded street corner. Few people still walked the streets at this hour, just after the common crowd had gone home, but before the lost souls of the night had come out to do whatever it is they do. Sell their forsaken products, or sell themselves to buy those products, Just as Janice had earned the money to support her impending purchase.
There he stood, watching as she approached.
La Pantera. Tonight, he was Janice’s hero.
“How can I help you, Janice?” He said, from under his hood. She couldn’t tell where he was looking, but she could feel his eyes on her’s, eager to make a sale.
Janice examined the dark streets around her to ensure no one was around to witness.“I need to get high. Give me half a ounce.”
La Pantera made no motion to meet her request. “I’ve got some unfortunate news,” He mimicked a sigh.”The price has gone up. 450 for half.”
“450? God! It’s not Acid!” She knew frustration wouldn’t win her a lower price, so she took a deep breath and scratched at the sores on her face. “I can’t do that. I’ve only got 250.”
La Pantera clicked his tongue in shame. “You’ll have to survive on a quarter ounce then. You know that the Gun-Dog won’t be happy with me selling our new product so cheap.”
That caught Janice’s attention. “New product?”
“Damn right. I tried a hit myself, and…” A long whistle came from under the hood to finish his sentence. “They changed up the formula. Apparently, It’s way more pure. Less is more, and, God, it feels good.”
She considered this. Of course she had the money, but did she want to spend it all on a few good highs? She had been saving her earnings to pay for a deposit on an apartment. The streets had started becoming even more inhospitable in this area of the city recently, and she reckoned it was time to start fresh.
But she wanted to get high.
She had goals to move into an apartment, then find a clean job with a steady paycheck. A new client every evening was a profession she was eager to leave.
But she wanted to get high.
The pain of her life was unmanageable. From the pigs she had to pleasure, and the chill of the city at night when she couldn’t find a client to spend the night with. The men who she called real lovers who ended up leaving in the middle of the night with her money and her drugs that she’d worked so hard to earn by doing horrible things, and phantom memories of her old life when things were good. Back when Janice was loved. She had parents who loved her. A family to eat with and a bed to sleep in. She had a future in front of her, a chance to see her dreams come true.
Now, nothing. The parents that claimed to love her but had disowned her and forced her from their lives. The future that had been crushed and beaten and left on the side of the highway to wither into nothing. Nothing that ever was, nothing that ever would be.
She tried not to think about it, not to care about her past, but it always came back. It was best to stop thinking altogether to avoid thinking at all. A far away place where the world wasn’t out to get her, and cold winds didn't flood through the alleys with the promise of a life without change.
She needed to get high.
“Give me half an ounce.” There was no use left in bartering, she paid the full amount. Her money was eager to purchase an emotional bandage to fix all her problems.
Deep down, she knew it would only mask them.
La Pantera noticed the sum of money she had, and the pain in her eyes. Too good a businessman to overlook these signs, Or perhaps too greedy. He’d seen these signs many times.
“You’re a great customer, Janice. I really appreciate your loyalty.” La Pantera knew how to imitate the emotions she needed the most. His tone portrayed love and caring. “I’ll give you a full ounce for just 800. Special deal, only for my favorite customer.”
Janice craved love and caring. From anyone.
La Pantera craved some extra cash. He didn’t care how he got it.
They both walked away with what they wanted.
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