Red Eyes: Strictly Business
Where the -@!# did my muse go?
Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.
The Indian man stiffened and turned his back to restock the cigarette case. “Nothing, man. I don't know anything.”
Lamar shook the last of the chip crumbs into his mouth and tossed the bag onto the floor. “I'm not saying you know everything but folks come in here all the time. You talk with them. And murders are always a topic of conversation. Come on, what have you heard?”
As he talked, Lamar pulled little zip-locked bags of weed, cocaine, and ritalin out of his pockets and placed them on the counter. “I'm as serious as cancer here, Ashish. J.J. was a dealer. You and me are dealers. If I can't find out what happened one of us could be next. I'd hate to lose you.”
“I'm sure it would break your fucking heart.” Ashish said.
"Again with the anger. It's not good for business, my man. You can dislike me. Shit, you can fucking hate me, if you want. But like it or not, we're in this together."
Ashish opened up the special drawer under the register and put the bags into their own compartments, shaking his head.
Comments (2 so far!)
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Inspired by (sequel to):
The street had raised Lamar. He knew it was kind of a corrupt balance to the influence of his momma …
Red Eyes: Historic FoundationsThis story's tags are
EMOTIONS. BUSINESS HOLDING INFORMATION CORNER MART INDIAN ASHISH MYSTERY BLACK STREET GANG DRUG DEALERS DEION LAMAR FICTION- Published 6 years ago and featured 6 years ago.
- Story viewed 16 times and rated 2 times.
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Ary
I really like this world you're creating. I read it out of order but it actually piqued my interest more by starting in the middle then going back, and then skipping to the end. The voice you have here, the tone -- it's just as gritty and dark as the streets you're describing. I really like it, I want to read more.