Felix didn't know what going to Santana's dorm entailed, but he found his feet carrying him there, anyway. He had sent Santana a text telling her he would be there, unsure of whether or not to wait a few minutes. It would be a bit of a walk to Dobry, anyway.
He was surprised by his own confidence, actually, and his pick-up lines. He figured he had read all the signs right, but he was still surprised, himself, that someone as beautiful as Santana would want to go on a date with him or flirt with him, in general. Once he reached Santana's door, he tapped on it lightly with his knuckles, staring down at his shoes while he waited.
Autumn in New York City meant pink cheeks and noses, bitten by the cold air. It meant an array of colored leaves flying around the city and falling under fast feet. Autumn meant beanies, coats, scarves and boots, worn by all the busy people rushing to get to their jobs, their homes, their plans. It was beautiful, but it was still New York. No one took a moment to appreciate the change in seasons. As the humidity broke and the sun hid behind gloomy clouds, everyone went on their way. They mindlessly broke out their sweaters but kept their heads down as they stuck to their schedules and commutes.
Last year's brisk Fall was not different from any other October evening Julian had encountered in his twenty years of living in the city. It was easy to tell who was an NYC native and who was a tourist, simply by the way their eyes moved. As the curly haired boy leaned against the brick wall of an emptied boutique, he couldn't help but watch and divide. There were those who stayed on their cell phones, staring at the cracked cement passing under their shoes, and there were those who looked up towards the skyscrapers, eyeing the threatening clouds. Tourists normally got under the skin of anyone who was going about their day, but in the months of September to November, Julian couldn't help but envy their doe-eyed look as they wandered through the boroughs. New York had to be a beautiful sight, but only one that could appreciated if there was a fast getaway
"Do you have it?" A voice came. Julian would have jumped, had not been used to the way these encounters always went.
"You're late." He kept his eyes on the ignorant city dwellers passing by, but responded, "Of course I do. The real question is if you have the right amount this time."
"Look, you jacked up your prices. I can't --"
Finally, Julian's green eyes broke from the streets and met those of the acquaintance he had made. Sonny was an average height male with thinning dark hair and bags under his eyes from restless nights. He wore the same thing every time him and Julian met by their chosen alleyway; baggy jeans, big shoes, and a black sweatshirt with the hood up so it covered his scabbed face. He was quite the sight, but Julian had long since gotten used to it. Instead, his eyes narrowed at the obvious user and he lifted himself from the wall he had been leaning against, now towering over his client.
"You can't what? You can't pay?" Sonny's eyes rolled but he took a small step back as Julian scoffed. "Did you drag me out here again, for no fucking reason?"
"Just give me a little, man. I can pay for a little," he begged.
"You know the goddamn rules. Once it's in the baggie, it's not getting split. You can't pay the full amount, then you can't get your shit." Julian was already stepping away, but as he passed by Sonny, he grabbed the black sweatshirt and pulled him in close. "And the next time you waste my fucking time like this will be the last time. Got it, Sonny boy?"
With a final shove, Julian disappeared into the crowd. He kept his head up as he made his way through each block, but with every step he took that granted him closer and closer to his final destination, Julian could feel the weight on his shoulders getting heavier and heavier. Fingering the baggies in one pocket and the wad of cash in the other, he could only imagine what was in store for him once he got to the other side of Bushwick. It would be the third time in a month that he appeared to Jonas with unsold product; he only wished he could avoid the lecture completely.
Rounding the corner, between an empty warehouse and a closed down Laundromat was the alley that sealed Julian's fate. There was always two big guys standing outside, chain-smoking and talking casually, but the twenty year old knew better; it wasn't so casual. They ignored him as he walked by, but turned their backs to him when Julian knocked four times with two knuckles against the cold, metal door of the warehouse. It took a moment, but eventually the door opened to a dimly lit room and in a flash, Julian was being pulled inside.
"Is it Friday already?" Jonas's voice echoed through. He was seated at his normal desk, with people working all around him. Cash boxes, baggies, product swirled around, getting ready for the rounds and payments. Julian's heart was pounding, but he didn't dare speak until Jonas was finished. "This week just flew by."
Finally coming to a stop at the table, Julian's green eyes met Jonas. He kept the grim look on his face, simply because what he couldn't stop touching in his pockets was making him nervous. But eventually, Jonas sighed. "Well, come on then. I don't have all day, kid."
It felt like Jules was swallowing glass, but after a moment of hesitation, he finally took the wad of cash out of one pocket first and tossed it on the table. Another pause, and the three full baggies joined.
Silence washed over the supplier and dealer.
"Julian, Julian, Julian," Jonas finally groaned. He picked up the baggies and waved them around. "What is this? Why am I getting this back? I don't want this, I want the cash. Do you not get what your job asks of you?"
"I tried, alright. You changed the prices and people can't pay it. And if people can't pay, I know I can't sell." Julian could feel the fire in his words. It was an argument they'd had before, an argument that never got solved. But he also knew with each venom-filled word, he was placing himself between a rock and a hard spot. His confidence dipped noticeably when he mumbled, "What do you want me to do, Jonas?"
"I think it's clear what I want you to do, kid. I want you to fucking sell. I want you to push these like your life depends on it. Because, quite frankly, it does." Jonas and Julian locked eyes with the final sentence, the tension between them growing exponentially as the words rang in the young boy's ears; a reminder of what he'd gotten himself into. Julian's heart was swelling with hatred for the boss he'd worked for, for now four years. And Jonas must have noticed, because with a small, light-hearted laugh, he stood up and rounded the table to Julian's side. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, Jonas sighed, "Aw, come on, Jules. It's been years between us. You're one of my best. I just hate to see you slipping like this. I want the best for you and nothing else. But I need to get this done, you know? I'm not a bad guy. I'm just doing my job and I'm asking for you to do the same."
The nice guy speech was one Julian had heard repeatedly, so he couldn't help but roll his eyes and shrug off the hand weighing him down, both literally and figuratively. He didn't dare speak, though. He was wise enough to know that the nice guy speech was the best treatment one could get around here when they fucked up.
"Here, take your cut." Jonas took the wad of cash Julian had been harboring just minutes before, and pulled less than half from it, offering it up to the dealer.
It was always this moment that Julian wondered if he could just shake his head and walk away. If he didn't take the money peacefully and bowed out, could he really be freed from the anxiety and the lifestyle he had set up? Would Jonas let him leave? Julian doubted it. And the money could be used. The hard part was done and his prize, his goal was being handed to him. He felt foolish leaving without it, into uncertainty. So instead, he took the money and shoved it in his pocket, just as another load was being pushed toward him by a worker. Julian glanced up at the guy, but with a sneer, he took the baggies as well.
He was making his way toward the door when Jonas's voice stopped him cold in his tracks. "And Julian? The next time you come to me with unsold product is the last time. We clear?"
He wanted to walk away and let Jonas fester in the silence. But again, he knew better. With a shaky voice, Julian replied, "Crystal."
And with that, he made his way out of the warehouse and down the familiar streets of Bushwick. Autumn leaves crunched underway as Julian swore up and down, one day, he'd get the fuck out of New York City and away from Jonas once and for all.
