bit, she wanted it all, and she wanted it fast too. She would never be satisfied with nickels and dimes if quarters and dollars were out there for the taking. Some might say Salida had caught herself a bad case of the greedies, but she preferred to think of herself as being eternally hungry. The thirst was just in her. It ran through her blood. No matter how much fortune she was holding in her right hand, she was always, always looking around to see if she could get more, more, more for her left hand too.
But she wasn’t about to go off half-cocked with her shit. She was too smart for that. She would be starting out very small. Baby-stepping her way through a process that had the potential to make millions of dollars in a very short period of time. Salida took pride in being thorough and in doing things in a strategic way, so she was gonna be moving very slowly.
She had discovered an interest in computers since leaving the nuthouse, and she’d quickly become an information junkie who loved the Internet too. So when it came to club drugs, Salida had already read about enough blown up home-cooked meth labs to know she was dealing with something lethal. Sure, she wanted to make a truckload of money, but she didn’t plan on killing herself in the process. Her goal was to cook for herself and keep all her profits, and eventually to become a major distributor and cook for other dealers too.
She’d already purchased a small amount of ephedrine from some Mexicans on the black market, and gathered some red phosphorous, a solution of lye, and a bunch of other chemical ingredients. She had made Ace get at ten of G’s most trusted cut room workers and tell them to report for duty. Under her detailed guidance and instructions, they had opened all the windows in the cut room and plugged in three industrial fans, and then for the first time in a long time, the G-Spot crew got busy producing, cutting, and packaging drugs again.
“Yo, that crystal ain’t nothing to fuck with,” Pluto had bitched when he came upstairs to grumble about the foul smell that had customers complaining down at the bar. He had looked around at all the plastic jugs, glass jars, flasks, and various open containers of chemicals and shook his head. “See, this is why we need to stick to fish scale and powder, goddammit! All them fumes mixing together gone kill y’all stupid muh’fuckas up in here.”
“Shut the hell up,” Salida said calmly as she slammed the door in his fat, ugly face. “I know what the hell I’m doing.”
But as it turned out, as careful and as thorough as she had tried to be, Salida didn’t know exactly what she was doing and after everything had cooked down all she ended up with was a stank, oily mess on her hands.
Staring down at all her wasted time and money, Salida laughed out loud. She was far from mad, and she wasn’t discouraged neither. In fact she was energized and encouraged.
“No problem,” she muttered as she eyed the bad batch of meth and tried to figure out what the hell she had done wrong.
“I’ma get this shit down pat,” she reassured herself as she prepared to ride out to Three Brother’s Funeral Home for a late-night meeting with her connect. “All a bitch needs is a little bit more money and a little bit more practice.”
CHAPTER 12
It was still warm for fall in California, and the Sanveneros were having a pool party. Renata appeared crisp and cool on the outside, but inside she was beside herself with worry.
Three of Frank’s brothers and their wives were sitting in the shade drinking martinis, and their nephews Sallie, Mick, and Joey, along with about ten of their young friends, were jumping in and out of the large, circular swimming pool.
It was a relaxing day. The beer was flowing, the grill was hot, and everyone was laughing and splashing and having a good time.
Everybody except Renata. Excusing herself from the group, she called Frank into the kitchen to help her get
But she wasn’t about to go off half-cocked with her shit. She was too smart for that. She would be starting out very small. Baby-stepping her way through a process that had the potential to make millions of dollars in a very short period of time. Salida took pride in being thorough and in doing things in a strategic way, so she was gonna be moving very slowly.
She had discovered an interest in computers since leaving the nuthouse, and she’d quickly become an information junkie who loved the Internet too. So when it came to club drugs, Salida had already read about enough blown up home-cooked meth labs to know she was dealing with something lethal. Sure, she wanted to make a truckload of money, but she didn’t plan on killing herself in the process. Her goal was to cook for herself and keep all her profits, and eventually to become a major distributor and cook for other dealers too.
She’d already purchased a small amount of ephedrine from some Mexicans on the black market, and gathered some red phosphorous, a solution of lye, and a bunch of other chemical ingredients. She had made Ace get at ten of G’s most trusted cut room workers and tell them to report for duty. Under her detailed guidance and instructions, they had opened all the windows in the cut room and plugged in three industrial fans, and then for the first time in a long time, the G-Spot crew got busy producing, cutting, and packaging drugs again.
“Yo, that crystal ain’t nothing to fuck with,” Pluto had bitched when he came upstairs to grumble about the foul smell that had customers complaining down at the bar. He had looked around at all the plastic jugs, glass jars, flasks, and various open containers of chemicals and shook his head. “See, this is why we need to stick to fish scale and powder, goddammit! All them fumes mixing together gone kill y’all stupid muh’fuckas up in here.”
“Shut the hell up,” Salida said calmly as she slammed the door in his fat, ugly face. “I know what the hell I’m doing.”
But as it turned out, as careful and as thorough as she had tried to be, Salida didn’t know exactly what she was doing and after everything had cooked down all she ended up with was a stank, oily mess on her hands.
Staring down at all her wasted time and money, Salida laughed out loud. She was far from mad, and she wasn’t discouraged neither. In fact she was energized and encouraged.
“No problem,” she muttered as she eyed the bad batch of meth and tried to figure out what the hell she had done wrong.
“I’ma get this shit down pat,” she reassured herself as she prepared to ride out to Three Brother’s Funeral Home for a late-night meeting with her connect. “All a bitch needs is a little bit more money and a little bit more practice.”
CHAPTER 12
It was still warm for fall in California, and the Sanveneros were having a pool party. Renata appeared crisp and cool on the outside, but inside she was beside herself with worry.
Three of Frank’s brothers and their wives were sitting in the shade drinking martinis, and their nephews Sallie, Mick, and Joey, along with about ten of their young friends, were jumping in and out of the large, circular swimming pool.
It was a relaxing day. The beer was flowing, the grill was hot, and everyone was laughing and splashing and having a good time.
Everybody except Renata. Excusing herself from the group, she called Frank into the kitchen to help her get
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