Dirty Laundry Secret: The Suit Pocket

“This is an emergency.”

It’s eight in the morning and this is one of the first texts I get. Why so early?!

I sighed heavily and shoved my phone in my pocket as I stepped outside of the subway and onto the sidewalk. Rush hour was at its peak as dozens of cars and buses piled closely to each other, waiting to eat the red light. 

I had just enough time to make it across the street.

I scratched my head as I walked down the block, quickly making it to the storefront. Hector was already in.

“Good-“

“Molly!!!” Hector shouted, rushing to my side.

“Good morning to you too, Hector,” I smiled, taking my time to put down my things (and obviously not showing as much urgency as he).

“M-Molly! There’s a client who said t-there’s an emergency!” he stumbled over his words, but I think that’s what he said. I just finished taking off my jacket.

“Hector—“ He’s a 21-year-old kid who gets nervous easily. He just joined a couple of weeks ago. Maybe it’s because he’s still learning… “—What did we talk about?”

“De-“

“De-?”

“Deep breaths,” Hector inhaled… then exhaled. 

I sat down on the stool behind the counter, “Good,” I smiled. “I saw the message coming here. Did you reach out to the client?”

“Yes.”

“What did the client say?” 

“I'd rather not say.”

“What? Is it bad?”

“Very.”

“Oh..,” I’m invested now. “Now you have to tell me!”

Narration: Hector

The client — let’s call him Connor — is rich. Like, filthy rich. But not many people know why.

The answer is simple: he smuggles drugs.

Is it legal? Absolutely f—king not. 

Does it get him a lot of money? Abso-f—king-lutely.

He had a huge errand run over this past weekend and it got ugly. We’re talking gun, blood, and drugs. Somehow someway, he made it out alive. 

But, he did betray a longtime business partner — which is a really nice way to say drug trafficker — and ran off with a brick of ….. cocaine. 

Yeah, crack cocaine.

“And that’s what he told me.”

“Well… sh—t,” I huffed. And here I was thinking that this was going to be something as little as last week’s wine bottle incident. 

“We have to call the police!”

“N-No!” I put my hand on his arm. “No. It’s okay. L-Let’s think a little here.” I got up, “I’m gonna call him.”

“But Molly I told you everythin-“

Shh, I gestured as the phone rang.

15 MINUTES LATER 

“Hector, none of that happened.”

“W-What do you me—“

“I mean it’s just weed. The client left it in his pocket.. and I guess he really wanted it,” I sighed in relief.

“Weed?”

“Marijuana? MJ? Mary Jane?”

“Oh….,” he seemed to try and recall the client’s story before he snickered to himself. “I know what weed is,” he teased before turning around.

But then he came back around and said, “Actually… You see….. I was watching an episode last night… and fell asleep…. and….ddd.. what I told you was actually what happened in the episode….Not real life…”

“Not real life?!”

“Not real life.”

He paused.

“I’m high by the way.”