300 word Flash Fiction piece about being dumb and desperate
We'll be Back on Friday
We decide the price and negotiate the weight, knowing he’ll skim off the top and we’ll pay for the privilege. We go home and grab cash. The drive is long and the neighborhood is bad. Everyone knows why we’re here and they ignore us. We climb five flights of stairs, my hands shaky and sweaty because I hate heights and there is no elevator. We reach his apartment. The front window is totally cracked, taped up with duct tape. We pound the door and he opens it, staring at my breasts.
“Come on in, sit yo’ asses down, smoke, then do some bidness.” His smile is big and yellow; his eyes still taking liberties.
We sit. We share a blunt he’s rolled, slimy with his spit. After smoking, we get down to bidness. The sack is short (by a pinch, as usual) and the price is higher too but what the hell is the difference.
He tells the story about his window getting broken. I don’t believe him at all. We stand up to leave and he blocks the door. He stares down my shirt and I ache to cross my arms.
I say “Thanks Perry, I hope it's good stuff.”
He doesn’t move. He is seven feet tall, and over three hundred fifty pounds.
“Hey, we’re friends right?”
“I hooked you up right?”
“Yeah, just like you always do.”
“Maybe next time I won’t be so generous.”
I blink at him. “You know, I can just call someone else.”
He laughs and the tension oozes out the door. We shake hands. We’re his best customers. We hurry down the stairs, passing the man pissing on the wall, passing the loitering stoners getting stoned. We hurry to the car. I drive. We’ll be back on Friday.
300 words not counting title