Monday nights under the new masterplan became lovely evenings... the first part of my night was spent hanging at the Little Corner Bar, it was always a slow night up the Ave, as the kids liked to say, and the bartenders would grin with delight as i entered, usually opening a beer and setting it in front of my free of charge as they knew that their tip jar would be much fatter with the appearance of El Kono... and it was... my customers knew to tip and were expected to, i usually left a twenty on the bar at the end of the night if not more and the reality was i rarely paid for a drink in this place, between my clientele and the bartenders i was never wanting for booze... which was funny as i was making more money than all of them but it came down the the street, the respect, i'd been doing this for so long that the nickel dimers who met me at the bar had seen the expansion of the business, had been told that due to high weed sales volume that most of my smaller bidness would be moved to the boozer, i was so reliable when it came to having not only product but usually good product that there were no complaints, every bag was fat and the clients all understood that the bar was cool, particularly the Little Corner Bar, a nondescript bar among the dozen that dotted this neighborhood...
By 10pm or so most of my business would be wrapped up, it was Monday after all, then i'd have a casual beer and bullshit with the bartender, half the time the bar closed by midnight on Mondays, i'd sit and finish my beer and then slip out the door, jump in my $400 car and head down the Bully (also as the yinzer kids liked to say), usually to Anthony's Lounge aka your perverted uncle's basement... it was usually a slow night unless it was football season and the beloved Stillers were playing... the sad sack crew were always there, this place being like their church and being good followers of the nudie bar they made sure to attend every service... these days i always knew who was working, mainly because they told me, seeing as i had tax free money to spread around i was like the patron saint of the working girl... I'd hang out and talk and pass the weed money out to the dancers, i was smart enough to know the game, whereas the sad sack crew were marks, suckers who would dole out cash thinking they were going to get something for it, i was passing out cash mainly because i could, besides i was already getting something for it though that's not entirely true, the funny thing was once i started hooking up with them they didn't want the money anymore... yeah some of the guys who dated the dancers got taken for a ride but i'd been hanging about long enough that these girls knew the score, i knew the streets and i knew the games and i wasn't afraid to move on the next, the whole Veronica to Red escapade had already illustrated that point...
I wouldn't close the club but i'd stay out late and usually drink more than i needed to, the next morning i'd wake up and try to shake off the hangover, hop in my car and head over to Red's, roughly a 20 minute drive and sometimes i was hungover enough that i was wondering if i was going to make it... the mornings at her place went one of two ways... if we both weren't recovering from the night before we'd play house, i'd stroll in and she'd make me breakfast, adding to the long list of women who felt the need to feed me, then we'd end up screwing in the kitchen or on the couch, on the living room floor, didn't matter really, she was not shy and why would she be? she worked out and was built like that old proverbial brick shithouse as the saying goes... if we were both recovering from the night before i'd roll in and up the steps to find her in bed naked to which i'd promptly get undressed and slide into bed next to her, amazing what two hungover nymphomaniacs can get up to, usually it worked better than aspirin and after a bit of fun we'd both pass out for an hour and then do it again before i'd get up and head out the door while she lay there half asleep... i rolled out the door with my shit-eating grin, freshly fucked and laughing at all the suckers of the world... Tuesday morning in the universe... then i'd drive home and count up the money and head to Stiv's to reup the supply...
After hitting Stiv's place i'd come home and field call's from the weight crew, the Billy Goat would practically be waiting at my door by the time i got back, it was always urgent business when it came to him getting more grass but as we know the getting me my money was a whole different thing... Ginger Mike would hit me after he got off work, same with Metal Jerry who was a bit amazed at how i'd rigged shit in my favor at the old warehouse, by the time it was all said and done roughly half the stash would be out the door, between 15 to 20 pounds of gear, with my new arrangement with Stiv, the five pack, as we called it, would net us both $1000 every time one went out the door, we both took less, me a little him a lot but as i pointed out to him we were moving gear faster and making more, less sitting on it and waiting for the crew to nickel and dime their way to the next pound now they had the ability to move some weight as well... and they did... the average Tuesday would put a few grand into my pocket... good work if you can get it... or as Billy Pilgrim would say, so it goes...
The only real problem i had was what to do about the "real" job... the fact was i could only milk the injured back for so long before i'd have to see an actual doctor or worse yet the company would send me to their doctor to assess my actual injury and while my back to did ache on occasion it wasn't enough to convince an actual professional and i didn't want to keep putting my chiropractor friend on the spot, he was basically doing me a favor and i couldn't keep asking him to write up things that weren't exactly true, yes my back was a bit wonky but nothing that really necessitated the time off... i had about a 4 to 6 weeks before i'd be back to full-time grunt or get the axe but when the sun is shining out of your behind (stolen from one Steven Patrick Morrissey) fate has a way of smiling on you... and these days i was riding a hot streak, hell it was more molten hot, but of course things can change, New York minute style especially in this business... but for now the ship was set on cruise control... even better? Red was doing anything and everything to keep me interested (not that she really had to try) and entertained... i was learning it is quite fucking good to be king...
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