What he did know, or at least what he told us, was that somebody needed to have the fear of God placed in them. What you need to know about Mark is that he’s twenty-five, twenty-six, and smart enough not to be in jail yet but stupid enough to be selling out the front door of his apartment.Īs these things go, what started out as a custody dispute took a complicated turn, and whoever Mark was in the hole with came to him for a serious favor, the kind he couldn’t really say no to. It starts with us getting tighter and tighter with Mark, letting him spot us a bag here, a case there, a ride in-between, until we owe him enough that it’s easier to just do this thing for him than try to scrounge up the cash. And also why I pick my pizza up instead of having it delivered. If you’re wondering, this is the story of why I’m not a criminal. Just not the way Mark had told us it would be. It was supposed to be a simple thing we were doing. That he kept it there specifically for people like us. Later we would learn that the guy kept a machete close to his front door.
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