Read Online Smuggler's Blues: The Saga of a Marijuana Importer by Jay Carter Brown - Free Book Online
Authors: Jay Carter Brown
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Jamaican gardener, Isaiah, heard the yelling and came rushing towards the commotion. He came bursting into the bedroom with his machete raised high and I saw Jean Paul looking concerned. Isaiah was a big man and with or without a machete, there was no doubt that he could have evicted Ryan and Jean Paul in a second. His appearance gave me a feeling of renewed confidence, but I would still have to face Jean Paul in Montreal later, as well as in Jamaica right now. I waved Isaiah away and told him it was just a small argument between friends and not to worry. He left reluctantly while I turned to Jean Paul and asked how much he wanted from me. The Frenchman was unable to conceal his pleasure, as the smallest trace of a smile washed over his face. He seemed to be musing over the amount he could gouge from me. He began with a bullshit story about paying his two guys on the docks five hundred a week for so many weeks and that, calculated along with the fee for my arrogance, would be six thousand dollars.
I thought about it. Six thousand dollars was possibly the maximum amount I would have gone along with under the circumstances, but it was affordable. I really had little choice but to pay the penalty if I wanted to avoid a war with Jean Paul. I pondered the amount for several moments before I agreed. I had actually held a lot of respect for Jean Paul up until this incident, and even though he professed to feel bad about it later, I never fully forgave him for what he did. I would also never forget that my good friend Ryan put him up to it and that Robby helped.
I felt like a dog that had been disciplined by the pack. The other dogs could smell that I was vulnerable, and they were taking advantage of it.
After the house was cleared of visitors, Barbara and I had a long-overdue talk about a lot of things, including our former friends and our future together. When you are an adolescent and still developing your character and personality, your friends willsometimes become closer to you than your family is. Friends will accept comments and behaviour that no one in your family would condone. Friends understand you. Friends accept you. But family will rarely turn on you the way friends can. At least not the way my friends did. I learned that friendship is often temporary. That friendship to some people is disposable. That there is a profound difference between friendship and companionship. That a real friend is worth their weight in diamonds. The people I had been hanging around with were not my friends. They were envious of me. They were spiteful towards me, all the while wearing a mask of friendship. After Barbara and I had finished discussing the issues, we decided to skip life in the fast lane and to quit smuggling drugs. We determined to get back to the basics that we had left behind, before we ever became involved with Ryan and his cohorts. We were going to return to Montreal and re-commit to our hippie attitudes that we had left behind after our trip to Mexico with our Volkswagen van. We didn’t need money. We didn’t need friends. We had our health and we had each other, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Three
Hung for a Sheep, Hung for a Lamb
After several months in Jamaica, my wife and I returned to Montreal and found a townhouse in the West Island that we rented until we could find a house to buy. We had discussed the matter in Jamaica and we came to the opinion that we had wasted enough money on dope deals and partying. We decided that it would be wise to invest a part of Barbara’s inheritance money in a home with some property. We began our house search in the west end of town where our friends lived.
I saw Ryan again. He was still living across the river in Laval, close to his psycho buddy, Jean Paul. I saw Robby again too. He was still living downtown with Paula in a two bedroom flat. When I saw them again, both Ryan and Robby acted as though what happened in Jamaica was no big deal. Ryan apologized for the
I thought about it. Six thousand dollars was possibly the maximum amount I would have gone along with under the circumstances, but it was affordable. I really had little choice but to pay the penalty if I wanted to avoid a war with Jean Paul. I pondered the amount for several moments before I agreed. I had actually held a lot of respect for Jean Paul up until this incident, and even though he professed to feel bad about it later, I never fully forgave him for what he did. I would also never forget that my good friend Ryan put him up to it and that Robby helped.
I felt like a dog that had been disciplined by the pack. The other dogs could smell that I was vulnerable, and they were taking advantage of it.
After the house was cleared of visitors, Barbara and I had a long-overdue talk about a lot of things, including our former friends and our future together. When you are an adolescent and still developing your character and personality, your friends willsometimes become closer to you than your family is. Friends will accept comments and behaviour that no one in your family would condone. Friends understand you. Friends accept you. But family will rarely turn on you the way friends can. At least not the way my friends did. I learned that friendship is often temporary. That friendship to some people is disposable. That there is a profound difference between friendship and companionship. That a real friend is worth their weight in diamonds. The people I had been hanging around with were not my friends. They were envious of me. They were spiteful towards me, all the while wearing a mask of friendship. After Barbara and I had finished discussing the issues, we decided to skip life in the fast lane and to quit smuggling drugs. We determined to get back to the basics that we had left behind, before we ever became involved with Ryan and his cohorts. We were going to return to Montreal and re-commit to our hippie attitudes that we had left behind after our trip to Mexico with our Volkswagen van. We didn’t need money. We didn’t need friends. We had our health and we had each other, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Three
Hung for a Sheep, Hung for a Lamb
After several months in Jamaica, my wife and I returned to Montreal and found a townhouse in the West Island that we rented until we could find a house to buy. We had discussed the matter in Jamaica and we came to the opinion that we had wasted enough money on dope deals and partying. We decided that it would be wise to invest a part of Barbara’s inheritance money in a home with some property. We began our house search in the west end of town where our friends lived.
I saw Ryan again. He was still living across the river in Laval, close to his psycho buddy, Jean Paul. I saw Robby again too. He was still living downtown with Paula in a two bedroom flat. When I saw them again, both Ryan and Robby acted as though what happened in Jamaica was no big deal. Ryan apologized for the
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