GB96 s2 - Working Girl Part 7

It’s fun to gossip about bikers over pizza, although you have to avoid the subject when Mr. Gibson is around. You don’t know how he’d react, but Stef avoids it, and Stef is the least tactful person you know.

It’s also fun to hassle Ellen about her relationship with Nadia, which is still in a strange but entertaining phase. Ellen is giddy about any contact with Nadia, and Nadia is keeping Ellen a secret. You and Stef are waiting for the other shoe to drop when Ellen inevitably walks in on Nadia with a guy or something, but until then it’s nice to see Ellen so happy and so firmly out of her shell. According to Stef, Ellen’s a whole new person.

But even these long days end.

“Do you want to…?” you ask Stef, letting it hang as the crickets chirp in the dark. You’re both leaning on your yellow VW while waiting for Ellen to get her stuff from the office.

“I’m beat,” Stef replies.

“Right,” you say.

Then you watch Ellen climbing into Stef’s truck. Stef doesn’t look too beat when she’s shutting the door and laughing, though. It’s hard not to be annoyed at Ellen, although it’s not Ellen’s fault that she needs a ride home. Or that she lives closer to Stef.

On the drive home, you think about that chat about the bikers. First, you think about how pissed Stef looked when she talked about them. Second, is there that much money in weed? There has to be some, or people wouldn’t sell it.

You like what you’re doing at the shop. You really do. But there’s a limit to how much you can earn answering a phone at a small business run by Gurlberg’s least ambitious man. The business will grow a bit if Mr. Gibson plays it smart, but that earns you what? A few more dollars an hour at most in the best-case scenario?

Now that your mom has **** you to look at stuff like rent and budgeting, money seems different. Your decision not to apply to college also seems to have a different texture in your memory now.

But people selling weed don’t do it from nine to five. They do it on the side. How many hours a week does someone like Bobby work? He’s everybody’s dealer. What was he making? Probably like… seventy bucks an ounce. But what was he paying for it?

They’re just thoughts.

You find your mother at home, watching Everybody Loves Raymond. It’s a weird experience now; pretty soon you’ll be going home to an apartment, not this house. Well… you just moved into this house a few months ago. But you’ll be going home to an empty place. Your mom won’t be there.

“Hey,” she greets you, turning to look over the back of the sofa as you put your purse down. The AC kicks in with a rattle. It feels good in here.

“Hey. Mom, do **** dealers make a lot of money?” It’s kind of a weird, stupid question. You’ve seen movies.

She shrugs. “Of course.” Then she laughs and turns back to the TV. “And it’s tax-free.”