The Last High by Daniel Kalla

Author:Daniel Kalla
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2020-05-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Wade Patterson sits in his home office and sorts through his inventory. He picks up the sealed bag of fake oxys and weighs it in his hand, estimating he still has at least two hundred of the grayish fentanyl pills left. As he holds it up to the light, Wade again notices the differences in color and markings, especially the bluer-tinted ones from his last buy.

Wade deliberately mixes his purchases together. No two batches are ever the same, in terms of dose or even content, and by blending them from the start, he assures that his clients don’t come to depend on the same potency. Besides, he doesn’t always rely on one supplier, so variations—big ones sometimes—are to be expected. He prides himself on getting the best wholesale prices on the market. He even jokes about developing an app for dealers, similar to one of those sites that show which service station has the lowest gas prices. But the last thing he needs is another business. He can barely keep up with the demands of his dial-a-dope service. The referrals and random connects from it used to only account for a small percentage of his deals, but now it generates more income than his regular clientele. But since the dial-a-dope callers aren’t loyal customers, Wade does most of his experimenting and substituting with them. Sometimes he’ll cut a little fenny into the coke. A smidge of it is helpful to bring clients back to the table without them even knowing they’ve crossed the line into the opes. He isn’t even averse to switching up tablets from time to time, substituting one type of drug for another when he’s running low. It’s good for these preppy snots to be exposed to the full rainbow of the substance experience. Builds character—he smiles to himself—and God knows those assholes could use some.

Wade puts the fentanyl away and lifts the clear plastic container where he stores his coke. Supply is running low, after the big sale to Jarrod. He could crush a few more fake oxys into the mix, but it wouldn’t get him far enough. I’m out of Ecstasy, too, he reminds himself. Not a huge demand for E tabs these days, but still, he’s overdue for restocking. And there aren’t many other buyers to whom he’d be able to pass off fake oxys as E.

Wade mentally calculates what the supplies will cost and then counts out the money from his hiding spot in the false bottom below his dryer. As he slips the cash into his billfold, he stuffs an extra grand in the wallet as a bonus for himself—thank you, Jarrod, you arrogant prick—unsure if it will take the form of a new pair of boots or, possibly, a night with two honeys. Maybe both. He can pay the girls off in product; the cash is only for the cost of a hotel room and room service.

Wade doesn’t feel like driving. Instead, he throws on his backpack, heads down the elevator, and unlocks the state-of-the-art titanium lock on his cruiser bike.

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