Caught in the Devil's Sheets by Jesse Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t want to fight” aka “I’ll do whatever I want and don’t want you to give me any kind of grief about it.” Fuck that!
    “Oh really, the first time you’ve used today? Congratulations! You went a whole 20 hours without snorting blow!” I yell at him. “You need to quit!”
    Jaime picks up a metal fan off the workbench with one quick swoop and throws it across the garage. “Get the fuck out of my face!” he rages at me.
    As much as I would like to stay and argue my point, the next thing he throws, might hit me. I turn and leave the garage, letting the door slam behind me. I stammer off to bed alone, and Jaime never joins me.

Chapter 3 Trip Two, Denver
    The next day, it’s a relief being on the road. Odin and I have rented a blue Tahoe and are headed for Denver. In my mind I’m trying hard not to think about where Jaime went last night, as he was nowhere to be found when I woke up. Is he seeing someone else? I try desperately to push the idea to the back of my head.
    I check my rearview mirror as we pull onto the freeway headed for Pearblossom Highway. I can see my luggage on top of a few decoy bags. Underneath them are hot bags. One is filled with pot double-wrapped in stink proof bags. The other two are filled with cocaine also well packaged and wrapped in clothes. The cocaine we distribute comes from Mexico. I hear the people who mule it from there make an easy $30,000 a run. There’s a lot of money to be made in cocaine, if you have the balls to risk it. I have thought about whether I could do a Mexico run if I was ever given the chance. I’ve decided it’s way too risky to cross the border. You could end up in a Mexican jail for life, or so I hear. Although the round trip from Santa Monica to Tijuana is only eight hours in normal traffic. It’s a lot less road to cover.
    There is little traffic and conversation as we make our way toward Vegas.
    “You and Jaime party in Vegas a lot?” Odin asks as we pass the sign welcoming us to the city.
    Jaime and I have a few really good memories in Las Vegas, but none that I care to think about right at the moment.
    “We took Ecstasy and went to Circus Olé once, I think on the way home from our sixth or seventh run. I was like barely 20.” I let the memory emerge from the Jaime Mosley sea of memories that I have been trying to keep calm. “I took way to much E, and had a huge anxiety attack. I thought for sure I was dying. We had to leave the show and Jaime had to talk me out of going to the hospital. I remember telling God if he would just let me wake up the next morning, I would never touch drugs again.” I can remember that terrible night so clearly.
    “You believe in God?” Odin asks me.
    “I believe that there is something out there much bigger than me that we’ll all have to answer to someday. But I think all organized religion is a load of shit,” I say.
    “Did you keep your promise?”
    “No. I didn’t do any drugs for almost a year, I just smoked pot and drank. To this day, I only do drugs on rare occasions. Not because I’m trying to own up to my promise, but just because they scare me,” I confess, gripping the wheel as I remember that night.
    “That’s right, you did ecstasy with all of us at your wedding,” Odin recalls.
    Another epic Vegas memory hits me uneasily. We had rented a penthouse at the MGM Grand and an entire floor rented out to our guests. We got married in their grand ballroom that overlooks the city. Our reception was elaborate and spared little expense. I can remember the deep sapphire blue color we chose for bridesmaid dresses and groomsmen shirts draping everything from the curtains to the chair sashes. And our cake—what an amazing cake! Four tiers of coconut mousse cake with big, blue sapphire feathers and fake sapphire jewels. I don’t know what was better, the ceremony, the elaborate reception, our ecstasy-fueled after party that we took in four stretch limos out on the town, or opening all the wedding