Weight

Karen pulled her minivan slowly to the curb approaching the double warehouse. She watched the busy deliveries going on out front. Is this the right place? There were a few parked cars, though she didn't see Bridget’s Toyota.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, what the fuck Bridget.” Pulling out her phone to call again. It rang and rang. Straight to voicemail. “Hey it's me, I'm here, or well I think I'm here. Please call me back, bye.”

Karen and Bridget had been roommates for some time. They shared many things, mostly they shared the bond of junkies. Karen held a rough hand to her throbbing temple. She hadn't used in several days so her headaches were returning. She glanced from her phone to the floor at a smudged spoon reminiscing on her last hit. This alleged 'Trape’ as Bridget called it was where you could use and buy all you wanted.

She sighed again. You know why you're here. Bzzt bzzt, answering her phone to the sounds of low-fi poppy music. “Hello?”

“GIRL where you at? This place is awesome! It's like it's legal down here!”

“I'm here, Where'd you park?”

“Oh I ended up riding with Ryan."

“Ryan? Ryan Who?"

“Ryan! Oh the guy from work, Ryan. Let me come up and check you in."

“K, I'm heading that way now.”

“Ok, make sure you go to the back warehouse, NOT the front.”

“Ok, ok got it, see you soon.”

“Byeee.” Click

The abrupt silence made Karen feel uncomfortable. “Like it's legal.” In the rearview mirror she adjusted her thinning brown hair. Pausing for a moment at the long dormant child seat in the back. “If only.” She opened her door greeted by the chill Washington wind.

*************************************

The women went stumbling along the cracked sidewalk; the breeze giving her small shoves as she went toward the warehouses. She grasped her coat like it was going to blow away. She was met at the door by a blonde woman.

Marquis put the binoculars down. The scratching sound was driving him crazy in the silence of the cruiser. He glanced up at the blood red maple leaf shivering on the windshield.

“Romeo 6 please advise the C.I. is on location with the undercover. Standby for ID of the HVT.”

Masters rasped into the walkie, “Copy that.”

Officer Marquis Jackson-Guevarra hadn’t been with the SWAT team long but today would be his first high risk raid. However, instead of being with the breaching team like he would prefer, he was spending it on surveillance duty. “If anyone could blend in with the roasters it'd be Mosley and his busted grill.” Marquis gave Masters a disarming smile, who grunted in return. Kendrick Masters was Marquis’ direct supervisor and so far was immune to any of his attempts of charm.

“Just keep a look out for any POI entering that warehouse new guy.”

“ 'Course sir.”

Masters raised his eyebrows exaggerating the wrinkles on his bald black head. “Enough of that sir shit boy.”

“Sorry sir, I mean, my fault, old habits die hard I guess.”

Marquis glanced over his briefing notes flipping to the HVT or high value target photo. A man only known as “The Colombian.” He was a lighter Hispanic-male. Early to mid 40's; with a dark closely manicured beard and cocky smirk. Marquis skimmed through the notes on him.

His M.O. was never staying in one place more than a week or two propping up several locations to move weight, then vanishing. He is also known to be very brutal in his reprisals. Marquis flipped to a photo showing bodies peppered with bullet holes, and others hanging from telephone poles.

The next POI were several white women who reportedly were working in the Trape’. Marquis pulled the binoculars back up to his eyes. If they didn't know better it would look like typical deliveries at the front warehouse. One side per the CI was just for that; and the other twin side of the warehouse was the entrance to the Trape’ as the hop heads called it.

“Romeo 6 please be advised we have local PD in undercovers setting a dragnet around your location. Mosley reports there are a lot of roasters down there. So hope you brought extra restraints in case things go track meet.”

Masters smiled, “you already know, roger that.” Masters rubbed his thick mustache like he always did when he was in thought. Marquis thought it looked like a black ass caterpillar. “You know what track meet means right new guy?” Masters glanced at Marquis, who stared out the window.

Yeah, yeah guess I do...Marquis’ knee bounced nervously. All this energy made waiting feel like an eternity. The radio then cracked to life.

“Romeo 6 we’ve advised the other units to use 10-0, the HVT has been marked by the informant.”

Shiit, that means The Colombian is there.

“Motherfucka’.” Masters clicked the talkie. “Roger, green light then?”

“Not yet, we are making sure they are talkin' about weight in there, standby over.”

“Copy.”

Marquis sat up in his seat slapping his muscular thighs both in excitement and to wake them up. “Can’t be long then, I mean if that's The Colombian in there we gotta’ go dynamic soon right?”

Masters rubbed his mustache then as if suddenly aware of how often he did it, he plopped his hand down on his lap.

“Don't get your panties in a bunch new guy. I wouldn't bet on that bastard being in there. Its been some YEARS since I been on opps and that mother fucker was supposedly here, supposedly there.” He added a heavy nod for emphasis. “That motherfucker is a ghost or an urban legend, or some shit.”

Marquis put the binoculars back up to his eyes eyeing the warehouse.“Guess we’ll find out in a little bit.”

****************

Inside, Karen was pulled into a warm lit world. It was almost shoulder to shoulder with chattering people.

Bridget yanked on Karen's sleeve, “C’mon, Donnie is saving us a spot.”

“Donnie?” Karen asked, trying to speak over the murmur of people and music. She looked around taking it in. Posh leather furniture filled the basement that surrounded a bar area.

There were brass pipes along the side of the room, as well as the ceiling. Though normally it would maybe be gross looking, it went with the vibe. Giving it an industrial feel. The enchanting smell of vanilla filling air. “What about Ryan?”

“Donnie is Ryan's friend” Bridget said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Karen pulled her beanie tighter over her hair,“Oh god, I'm not dressed for that.” Karen said with a nervous laugh.

They found Donnie who looked back at them and waved them forward with a soft smile. Mmm tall, dark, and handsome. Just like that they stood next in line to order. Bridget made space between them.

“Donnie, this is my bff Karen!”

Donnie shook her hand with a firm grip. “Nice to meet you.” They both said at once with a laugh, Karen sensed a slight southern drawl.

Bridget nodded to Karen, her blonde hair in her smiling eyes. “Isn't this awesome?”

Karen grinned nodding her head to both Bridget and the beat of the music. “I must say I’m pleasantly surprised, It's like a speakeasy.”

“EXACTLY!”

Well she's upbeat. She must have got some.

Karen envied her for it, she was groggy and her movements feeling heavy.

Not much longer now..

Donnie spoke in Karen's ear.“Do you know what yer gonna’ get?”

Karen shook her head and was about to answer when sculpted arms came around Bridget's mid section. A surferish-looking guy peeked from behind Bridget's head.

“Uff.” Bridget gasped, her face twisting with surprise that turned into a smile.

“If you couldn't tell this is Ryan, he told me about this place.”

“Hi there,” Karen gave a polite wave.

“Eh nice to meet ya, babe you ready?” The front-man waved a hand forward for them to order. To Karen's surprise she was salivating.

“What can I get for you?” The front-man asked Ryan

“Uhh you guys got Monsters by chance?”

“Yep.”

“Ok cool man uhh let me get two of those and a oz of Colombian.”

“Alright you bet, name for the order?”

“Ryan!”

“Bryan?”

“No, No B, Ryan like.. I don't know just no B man,” he said with an awkward smile.

“I gotcha RYAN, and you miss?” Karen nodded up; she was lost in a train of thought.

“I’ll have uhh a triple- “ Karen couldn't finish her sentence. It was interrupted by shouting from behind her.

Moments earlier outside, a S.P.D. MRAP made its way around the decrepit block humming toward the warehouses. It idled as it approached its target, in silence.

It was mirrored by another turning opposite to the other warehouse. They were Designed for war, to be able to shrug off IEDS. Now it was fighting a much different war here in the United States of America.

*************************************

After the raid, Marquis watched in amazement as the crime lab techs piled out the equipment and various paraphernalia.

God damn, looks like a laboratory. All these beakers, glass containers, filters.

“Guevara quit playin’ pocket pool and help me with this.” Marquis nodded to the other officer who was covering the perps. He went inside to meet with Mosely and others who were grinning over the contraband that was on the doorman's desk.

It was the biggest seizure in Washington State history. The crime lab tech was swishing around some of the product in a test tube. The dark brown liquid dancing as the tech slowly twisted it back and forth.

Mosley yelled, “Maaan just let me smell the shit I can tell you what it is.”

There were hearty laughs that followed. Mosley smelled the brown from one of the packages on the table, “Yeah that's Colombian alright boys!” More laughs.

The lab tech peered down at the tube which now showed a bright pink color. He nodded, “Colombian it is.”

“Hell yeah!”

“That big ass nose ain't wrong NOSEly.”

“Good one, ya idiots.”

The tech went down the line testing all the different grounds. Arabica, Robusta, Liberica. There was Ethiopian, even Sumatran blends.

All the blends were there. As well as several types of energy drinks, and teas. Monsters, Red Bulls, and even homemade “Energy-Shine.”

“Alright y'all this ones for the paper.” They stood posing with the historic seizure.

Masters' raspy voice came over the murmurs of excitement. “New Guy!”

“That's me.” Muttered Marquis.

“C'mon’ we gotta track down the perps that got away. There's a guest log if you can believe it.”

As the two left, other officers took out the numerous cans of energy drinks and began pouring them out in front of the Trape’. Another picture taken. Masters and Marquis got into their squad car.

Marquis spoke first as usual. “So no Colombian huh?”

“Naw man then we would’ve had him in front with all that shit.” Masters paused to rub his mustache. “Like I said, it's a urban legend anyway.” He started the car.

I shouldn't say more…

Marquis spoke more so to himself. “Someone keeps doing these popup speakeasies though..”

Masters shook his head in obvious annoyance. “Anyone could do that. There's a demand for it and so somebody's gonna’ do it. Somebody gonna’ sell the shit, and somebody has to bust they asses when they do it.” The two sped off.

*************************************

Some hours after the raid, Karen with eyes wide scooped up several tablespoons of the Colombian blend.

She pulled the filter supplied to her by the speakeasy from the top of her boot and quickly poured the grounds into the coffee pot, spilling some on the floor.

Her hands were still shaking from the raid. She had barely gotten out of the speakeasy in time, and was one of the few who did.

Karen tried slowing her breathing, her heart was beating in excitement.

She couldn't tell if it was because she was still coming down from the escape, or from the excitement of having good coffee for once. Karen's headache was back, though she couldn't help but smile as she breathed in the nutty aroma of the coffee. Now she had enough coffee for at least 2-3 pots. Maybe more if she made it stretch.

The small Black and Decker coffee maker burped to life. Karen tried to busy herself while waiting but she couldn't help but watch the black liquid drip into the pot. Might as well be watching an hourglass

“Finally.”

Karen grabbed the first cup she could. “Talk to me when this is empty;” the cup had on it. Slowly she enjoyed the moment, inhaling the steam coming off the coffee.

“Ahh my sweet black elixir, it's been too long.” She took a long sip, then another. Karen sat with her eyes closed. Nothing on the mind except this moment and the warm cup in her hands. She sat at attention re-remembering her friend.

“Bridget.” She pulled up her phone to call again, as she had several times prior. It rang and rang, full voicemail this time. “Christ.”

Suddenly there was a bang at the door making Karen jump, spilling coffee on herself. “Shit! Ughhhhh!” She quickly wiped off the coffee from her hand. She then heard more bangs and the dreaded words:

“S.P.D. SEARCH WARRANT!”

Karen stood like a deer in headlights. “Shit! Shit, Shit!”

She took one more sip, then begrudgingly poured the rest of the pot and cup into the sink. Then in one motion she put the coffee maker in their stash spot beneath the sink.

Karen almost didn't get the false cover over it in time. She heard the door open, and turned to see two cops in her kitchen pointing pistols at her. Karen put her hands in the air, “Woah! Woah!.”

“Police! Hands up!” Yelled the older one.

“Yeah, yeah they are up. What the hell are you doing in my house?”

The younger officer started patting Karen down. “Karen Maven?

“Yes, now what the hell are you doing here?” She started to shake away from the officer as he patted her down.

“Ms. Maven, this is for your safety and mine. Anything in your pockets that would hurt me?”

“Nope.”

The older cop holstered his gun and shoved the warrant in Karen's face. With a deep scratchy voice he answered Karen. “All here on the warrant Ms.Maven, seems that you were at a high trafficking area, er well you probably know it better as the Trape’.”

Karen shook her head, trying to get her hair out of her eyes. “Nope, I don't know what you're talking about.”

She turned to look at the older cop. He was rubbing his thick black mustache looking around the kitchen.“YEAH I think you do. Ya see… That Trape’ had a guest list; and wouldn't ya know it, your name was on it.. Along with your roommate Bridget Carey. Weird right?”

Karen didn't mean to, but she swallowed spit and it was loud enough for them to hear.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyways why don't you make this easy, we know you’re holding.”

Karen answered with cold silence.

He gave a sigh and spoke to the other, “Alright give her the check, I'm gonna search the premises.”

Karen was turned around by the other cop. “When's the last time you used?”

Karen answered slyly, “used what? The bathroom?”

Unphased, he continued, “smile please.”

“Smile? What for?”

“Mam just smile and make this easier for all of us.”

Karen flashed a lightly stained smile. “What are ya a dentist too?”

The officer smelled her breath and pulled his head back quickly. “Yeah she's dirty.”

“How dare you! This is bullshit, you have nothing on me; just because I have bad breath you gonna arrest me? Assholes!” She almost got herself out of breath. “Wha-what are you guys names anyways? You haven't even shown me id or anything.”

The young cop answered while writing down on his notepad, “I’m officer Marquis Jackson-Guevarra, that's my supervisor Kendrick Masters.” He nodded toward the other.

Masters cut in, “Now as you'll see on that search warrant Ms.Maven there's an order to take in any products or beverages containing caffeine or any paraphernalia associated as well. Per USC code 9283-2, whiiich leads me to this here.” Masters stood up holding a stained coffee filter to Karens face.

Karen’s face shrunk away from it. “That's not mine! You fucking dirty cop! You planted that!” Masters put his hand on the back of his neck as he laughed.

“Hahaha! Ok Karen, ok. Well we all know you JUST used and there's a brick in this kitchen somewhere.”

Marquis took his turn looking around the house. While he pulled apart the already dilapidated kitchen, he added in a softer voice.

“Karen, we already have enough to arrest you being that we found the filter, why don't you help yourself and tell us where you put the grounds.”

Karen looked around the room for any way out. She then met Marquis’ brown eyes with her piercing green eyes which peaked through the hair draped over her face; and couldn't say anything. Instead she stared at her dirty floor.

Marquis started to go under the sink, he noticed a shuffling in Karen's posture and energy as he did. They again locked eyes. Jackpot.

He started knocking on different parts beneath the sink. Karen lowered her head more in defeat, as tears started to well in her eyes.

“Watch your head.” Marquis guided Karen in the backseat of their police cruiser. Karen was sobbing as she sat down. It became real for her. Marquis sat in the passenger seat starting the paperwork for processing.

“This is bullshit.”

Oh here we go. “What's that Karen?”

Masters got in the driver side and off they drove.

“It's bullshit and you know it. This shit shouldn't be illegal!”

Masters snorted, “yeah, well it is.”

“Yeah, it's bullshit! Everyone drinks coffee! Everyone uses something with caffeine! I'm sure you're going to drink up whatever coffee you got from me.”

Marquis looked back at her with remorse, “Naw, myself I'll drink mushroom coffee. You should try it, its a good substitute. It actually tastes pretty good too."

Karen shook her head in disgust.

“Suit yourself.”

Karen muttered again, “It's bullshit. It's not hurting anyone...”

For the rest of the drive to processing the only sound was the light hum of the cruiser, and the sporadic chatter on the police radio.

*************************************

“The war on caffeine truly is just a war on the poor. At this point it's just feeding into the prison industrial complex.”

Marquis’ ears perked up and he turned the volume up. It had been three days since the big bust, he actually enjoyed speed trapping for once. Anything to get away from paperwork.

“-Uh hm.”

“Lining the pockets of those who invest in private prisons if you can believe that.”

“Right, right I've heard that before…”

“-And of course it goes without saying that the war on caffeine disproportionately targets the white race. I mean look at who fills the prisons. Young white boys and girls who go to prison for typically non violent crimes; and the racial profiling that goes on in these communities by law enforcement is incredible. I mean don't get me started on the stop and frisk laws in New York.”

Masters snorted in disgust, “tpsh well ‘course its them white boys and girls, they the ones doin' the shit.”

-“Sure, well I mean everyone partakes in part, apparently even here in Seattle look at that huge bust from the other day; but yes you're not wrong it usually trends that way. Though you can't say all of it is non violent, there are lots of gang, and cartel violence associated with the caffeine trade. All for the trade of this little bean. So what do you think is the answer Mark?”

Marquis chimed in as well, holding the speed radar to the passing cars. “Yeah Mark, what is the answer?”

“-Well to me it goes without saying we have to strongly consider legalization Tyrell.”

“-Wow, definitely a controversial point now-a-days ,” Tyrell added.

“-Yeah I mean but think of the revenue that would come in, and we can take many of these people off the streets-”

Masters chuckled, “HAA you got to be out your damn mind. I swear these educated types.”

Marquis shook his head with a grin. Masters chuckled more until he had himself a coughing fit.

Suddenly the radar beeped at Marquis, he watched the speed as it loaded.

“94 miles per hour.”

“Alright, light ‘em up.”

The police cruiser buzzed to life speeding from its hiding spot beside the overpass. Marquis caught up to the car, which he could see was very expensive looking. He muttered “Mercedes AMG.” The car kept driving for some time until finally pulling over.

Marquis' body burned in anger, “ ‘bout time motherfucker.”

Masters ran the plate checking for any warrants or priors. Marquis approached the Mercedes cautiously, he saw it was a white male driving. He had his hand close to his holster just in case.

Wonder how you got this car…

The window rolled down. The first thing Marquis saw was the arrogant smile the man had showing his overly white teeth.

Although, he was a white male his tan almost made him look Hispanic.

“License and registration please.”

“Sure officer, there a problem?” The man asked, studying Marquis' name badge.

“Yeah the problem is you were going 94 in a 70 mph zone, and you also took your time pulling over for me.” Marquis didn't hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Hm, well so sorry about that officer, just wanted to pull over safely. Don't wanna' scratch the paint ya know.”

“Uhmm yeah, what is it that you do exactly?” Marquis glanced down to the license. Howard Schultz. “Mr. Schultz.” Howard Schultz's initially warm brown eyes now narrowed, glaring into Marquis.

“Not that you need to know officer Jackson-Guevarra, but I'm a day trader of sorts. Now can you run along and get this over with please? I pay my taxes.”

Marquis’ eyes burned into Howard's, for more than a moment. Howard stared right back at him and a cocky smile crawled across his face.

Marquis walked back to the cruiser, the whooshing cars nudged him lightly as they passed.

“Fuckin’ prick.” He couldn't help but think that Howard looked sort of familiar, but from where? Marquis hopped in the car which bounced as he got in the seat.

“This fuckin’ guy man. We should beat this honkies ass.”

Masters laughed with Marquis for once.

“Well, the car isn't registered under him.” Masters said.

Marquis chuckled, “of fuckin’ course it isn't. You know this asshole looks familiar too. Please say he's got priors?”

Marquis pulled up the license to inspect. His stomach dropped. He didn't hear Master's answer. His heart started racing. “Masters, it's him.”

“Him who ?”

“It's The Colombian. It's him.” Marquis started to pass the license.

Masters gave a skeptical look. “But you said it was a white boy.”

“Well it is but I mean he's tan as hell.” Masters looked at the license as well, his face didn't change as he rubbed his mustache.

“Shit.” Masters whispered.

Marquis reached for the radio, “We gotta’ call it in.” He started to click the walkie to speak, when Masters grabbed his hand suddenly.

“Wait.”

“Wait? What for sir? We got him.” Masters opened his door and stepped out of the car.“What the fuck?” Is he going for him by himself?

Marquis followed his supervisor's lead and stepped out on the freeway. WHOOSH a semi passed by Marquis. He unholstered his service weapon and approached the vehicle. “STEP OUTSIDE THE VEHICLE!” He pointed the gun at The Colombian, “DROP THE KEYS OUTSIDE THE VEHICLE NOW!” When he got to the driver's side he was greeted by the same arrogant smile as before.

Howard held up his hands sarcastically. “Woah woah woah, hey easy there, dont shoot new guy.” Marquis glanced at the calm demeanor of Masters then back at The Colombian.

Masters held up his hand, “put away your service weapon Marquis. This is a misunderstanding.”

“The hell it is si-”

“What’d I tell you ‘bout that sir shit boy? What'd I say? That's an order!” Masters stared daggers at a very confused Marquis. “Give the man back his papers.”Marquis couldn't find words. He slowly passed Howard Schultz his license and registration.

"Am I free to go Kendrick?”

“Yeah, get the hell out of here man before you get shot.”

Howard smiled, turning toward Marquis who was beside himself watching everything unfold.“Hey next time kid, have a cup of joe on me, K Marquis?” He said with a wink.

Marquis watched as the Mercedes sped off, almost as fast as it did when they pulled it over. He got in the car with Masters and they sat for a moment. “What. The Fuck. Was that? We just let THE COLOMBIAN go. Well naw, naw not WE, but YOU let him go.”

Marquis couldn't hide his rage; he pounded his fist through the air hitting the steering wheel with a powerful shake.

“Now turn down son.”

“Naw there ain't no turnin' down, you just let a national kingpin go free!”

Masters dropped the pen on the paperwork, raising his voice “Let me ask you something Marquis. Do you want to go far in this unit? Do you want to make captain someday?

Marquis stared back in amazement. “Are you kidding me?”

“ ‘Cus tell you what I got news for you. This war on caffeine WE ARE LOSING.” He jabbed a finger into the chest of Marquis.

“Well no shit we are, when we lettin' kingpins go.”

“Ya know what we do? We go out, we do some raids, we arrest some hop heads, we take some pictures and we wake up and do the same shit the next day. Can you honestly say we make a difference? I'd be damned if you see it.”

Marquis started to speak but Masters cut him off.

“I'd be DAMNED if you see it! As long as this war goes on, we gon’ get more funding and OT than we know what to do with; And you know what else? We arrest that motherfucker, another one will be in his place the next day. You can run tell that. Shit, you best learn new guy. ‘Cus lookin' the other way, and lookin' the other way on motherfuckers like him, put my kids through college. So you better think about your future and your health.” Masters held a long stare with Marquis.

Marquis sat in silence, fuming with rage and disgust. He shook with goosebumps, he literally felt dirty.

“On that note though.” Masters cleared his throat, "this was for you, I mean if you want it.”

Masters gingerly handed Marquis a small cup. Marquis knew what was in it. He looked up from the cup to Masters as if to say “are you serious?”

“C’mon man lets get the fuck out of here.” Masters barked. The cruiser pulled out onto the highway, Marquis grabbed the cup looking at it for a moment. He slowly sipped the cup thinking to himself.

Damn, sweet black elixir, it's been too long.