(The last post on the Billy Goat was from August 2020, for those interested... not that i'm under any illusions that (maybe) more than three people read this shit, one could start there for a refresher- the mgmt)
When we last spoke of the Billy Goat it was of that fateful first meeting, what one might call a blessing and a curse, to hint at a lovely foreshadowing. The Billy Goat was all in on the dealer game, he was living the hippie dream, as previously noted he had graduated from a prestigious university known for football and a certain golden dome and was now living in a row house in one of the many cuts in the East End. These row houses were havens for the students and the hangers-on who were clinging to the college years before actually being forced into getting a real, or for that matter any, job. It was an excellent location to deal out of because with that many students there was always foot traffic, lots of it, which made it hard for the cops. The last thing the police needed was a raid on a place that turned up nothing or next to nothing while then finding out that the place they raided just happened to be occupied by the spawn of some hot shot politician, lawyer, businessman etc. They didn't need the hassle. So these little enclaves were left alone unless of course someone was incredibly stupid... and as we all know, never underestimate the stupidity of any given human.
The Billy Goat knew the game, he said all the right things, showed up with cash in hand, like any new employee he was on his best behavior, he looked like the classic hippie college kid with his long scraggly hair, big beard, tie-dyed shirts and Birkenstocks. One might recall the horror show that was the Billy Goat's toes, in fact actual billy goats had much more attractive toes than our Billy Goat, i probably should have included a toe nail clipper with one of his orders as a hint but then again i more rightly should have included a gift certificate for a pedicure... and Jah help the poor Asian immigrant at the local salon unlucky enough to have to work on this cat's feet, it wouldn't be a shock if they quit when they saw them. When he stopped by i always hoped he'd be wearing actual shoes that covered his toes but those were rare occasions.
The truth was the Billy Goat was a good earner who moved a lot of product. Once he got the gear and showed it to his people he was coming around every couple of days to pick up another pound. I'd even alert him to when the supply was low and ask if he needed me to hold onto something so that he could get through until the next re-up. It was all so smooth... in the beginning.
The healthy (or unhealthy) paranoia i had cultivated always kept me on alert and even with the Billy Goat seeming to do a bang up job i had my doubts about his reliability but when he asked if he could get two pounds at a time instead of just one i had no problem, of course the second pound would be fronted to him so each time i saw him he'd pay for one plus the fronted one and get two more, a rotating line of credit, i did inform him that as long as he kept up on shit i'd have no problem with this arrangement and for the most part Billy did keep up. In fact once the Billy Goat got hooked into my supply line his business exploded and he was one of the first to ask if he could get a discount. I explained to him that i was thinking of something like that but the fact was i didn't have control over the price but i was getting ready to broach that very subject to my partner (see Stiv). I informed him that i had another guy who had asked the same thing and that i felt it would be beneficial for all involved but i did warn him that my partner was a bit of a greedy headcase and that i couldn't promise anything. Billy nodded and pontificated in his rather high and nasally voice on all the reasons that should happen. I patiently listened and told him i agreed but that it was up to the guy one rung up the chain.
And so the Billy Goat did his thing and kept flipping pounds at an expedient rate. Of course it didn't take long, around two months or so, when the Billy Goat began to think he was "special". He was under the impression that he was my biggest mover of grass and the truth is that he was, though Metal Gary, one of my warehouse co-workers, wasn't far behind. But because of this Billy believed that he should receive some sort of special treatment. The first little hiccup occurred when a batch came in that wasn't quite as good as what we'd become accustomed to seeing. It was still green and looked pretty good, the smell wasn't as strong, which in certain respects was a nice break from my room smelling like an Amsterdam coffeeshop but now the Billy Goat had some issues. I found it rather amusing or more correctly annoying that a guy who was getting a couple of grand retail on the cuff had an issue with anything. But soon the pissing and moaning started.
There was a time when this conversation took place every instance that the quality took a slight dip, and the fact was this was outdoor grown, mass produced cannabis and in all honesty it was well done. For the most part batches came in that were so good they bordered on what the kids called "kind bud" back in the day before branding and names became all the rage. The US wasn't the ganja capital of the world like it is today, but more correctly it was high midi, as we'd say. High mid-grade weed that was excellent quality and a good smoke at a great price. It wasn't pressed, brown Mexican brick or seedy dirt weed, the shit was good, nuff said. The problem was the Billy Goat took me for some kind of sucker, in the cock-offs of the dealer world we all think we're the smartest guy in the fucking room, wielding the biggest dick and Billy definitely thought he was... he was not. Not that i'm claiming i was but let's just stay i was brighter than Billy. You see because while all this was happening Billy was falling further behind on his payments. Now he owed me for more than just a pound and i cautioned him on his tab getting a bit more than i was comfortable with but Billy, not realizing i was wearing my wading boots because i knew the bullshit was about to get deep, would assure me that soon he would collect it all and be straight over to settle up. I smiled and laughed and said i knew he would because i'm sure he enjoyed walking without a limp and not eating through a straw. We'd both laugh but one could detect a bit a nervous anxiety in Billy's face i grinned coolly his way... (to be cont.)
No comments:
Post a Comment