Goal: Survive Conflict: Set up by Amit Disaster: Gets ripped off
Happy knocked once, but was pretty sure he’d have to knock again. The first time had been too soft due to his nerves. Amit had made him go get the package as he looked the most innocent of the group. This had scared Happy due to the risk of being caught, but also exhilarated him at the prospect of being useful.
He knocked again. This time a black man opened the door ajar, flexing back when the chain lock reached it’s limit.
“Who dat,” the man called in a thick Jamaican accent.
“I’m Amit’s boy for the two chickens,” Happy said. He had rehearsed that in the elevator 20 times but he still managed to stumble.
The chain lock came off and the door swung open. The ganga smell wafted out wall-like. The man had dreadlocks with a healthy crop of white hairs seeping in.
He stared at Happy and Happy thought he was going to get bruck. But instead he kept staring.
Happy asked him ‘what’ with his eyes.
“Two chickens?” the man said. He was known as Sleepy by Amit and now, seeing his face, Happy knew why. His eyes were in a perma-mid-close at all times.
“Yeah, that’s what I want?” Happy said.
“You’re talking pure foolishness, that means nothing,” Sleepy said.
“Um…” Happy said.
Sleepy stepped back, about to close in Happy’s face.
Happy put his hand on the door to stop it from closing. Sleepy was startled out of his daze.
“Clement!” Sleepy said, calling someone from the other room.
“Whoa whoa, I just want two ounces of the green. Amit must’ve been punking me. I’m now and he’s waiting for this stuff. Here’s my health card. You can keep it for the weed,” Happy said.
Happy pulled out his wallet as Sleepy pondered closing the door. The only thing stopping him was the fact that Happy was definitively non-threatening even given his stature.
“Can you give me two ounces,” Happy said, holding out his OHIP card.
The questioning was answered by and upturned semi-open palm, the international symbol for ‘pay me.’
Happy pulled out the bills from his back pocket, folded once to be the size of a credit card. The bills had each come from a different boy, via different means and from different carrying methods. The totalitarian fold had done much to make then uniform, but not fully, so that when Happy pulled out the stack the jagged imperfections of each made it billow in his hand. He outstretched it to Sleepy who snatched it and handed it behind him to an unseen man, with a hand around the corner. It must’ve been Clement. Happy wondered if Clement was holding a gun. Sleepy couldn’t have been due to his sparse clothing, a wife beater and basketball shorts. If Happy let his hair down he may have looked quite similar to Sleepy. Happy was nervous. His breathing was shallow.
A few seconds later a white grocery bag came back with the weed.
Happy grabbed it and was about to walk away until he remembered to check it. He started opening the bag and saw dried leaves wrapped in plastic.
“Not here my youth. There’s a problem you tell Amit,” Sleepy said from behind, with amusement in his voice.
Happy nodded over his shoulder and started walking down the hall. The quiet of the hall become more pronounced once the music from inside Sleepy’s spot become muffled as the door closed. Happy quickened his pace and started breathing fuller.