“What’d you get?”
“Six months community service.”
“Huh… you got off easy.”
“I thought so at the time too,” I said. “Community service is no piece of cake.”
“You still drawing?” Larry asked, with mild amusement. He had always been amused by my love for painting. I think he felt like it wasn’t a real job for a man.
“I am.”
“You sure you’re not gay?”
I smiled. “I’m not,” I said. “Not that there would be anything wrong with being gay.”
“Course not, man,” Larry said quickly. “I got a cousin who’s gay. We don’t see him much but there you go.”
I smiled at the lack of understanding, but I wasn’t about to lecture him on social awareness. I needed something from him.
“So, Larry… I just wanted to let you know, if you need something to take the edge off… I’m your man.”
There was a pause. “What the fuck do you mean?”
I sighed inwardly. Larry wasn’t always the smartest tack out there, and I realized I might have to spell it out for him.
“I’m dealing again, Larry,” I said. “You know I got good quality shit.”
“Seriously?” Larry asked. “You’re dealing…”
“Yeah.”
“You just got busted for dealing.”
“But I didn’t get jail time. No one’s watching me.”
“That’s what you say… how do I know you’re not a narc?”
“Come on,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Weren’t you happy with my product before?”
There was another pause. “I have missed the shit you were pushing… it was top quality.”
“See?” I nodded. “My supplier well respected in the community.”
“What community?” Larry asked.
I rolled my eyes. “The pothead community.”
Larry laughed. “Dope… ok, I gotcha,” he said. “How about we meet at our old spot and have a pow-wow?”
“Sure,” I nodded. “Oh, and one more thing… let your friends know that I’m in business again. But trusted people only, please… I don’t need the cops on my tail again.”
“Got it, man.”
I hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. If I kept this up, then I would have a couple of thousand in my pocket by the end of the week. I could make rent, save some of it and have enough left over to take Zoey out for a nice meal. I could always cover it up as a thank you for helping me with my portfolio.
Feeling very satisfied with myself I grabbed my portfolio and headed into the city to meet with Gordon Chadwick. He was the owner of White Lines Gallery. It was a relatively small space and a relatively unknown gallery, but I needed to start somewhere. He was willing to meet me, and that was all that mattered.
When I got to the gallery, I was greeted by a tall, skinny woman with pointed features and a face that looked painted on. She was wearing an impeccable white suit, and I knew she was part of the look that Gordon Chadwick wanted to emulate. I was shown to his office at the back of the gallery, and I had to wait almost half an hour before he let me in.