At 4:34 pm, I hear the sound of tires slowly coming to a halt in front of my house. Two sharp car horns follow the noise. Then my phone rings once to tell me my Uber has arrived. I turn off the TV and get up from the sofa. I message Nick to be at the location by 5:00 or I’d leave. Next, I pocket my phone, pick up the bag full of drugs and start walking toward the front door.

I learned to drive when I lived with my grandpa for a year, but I don’t have a car here with me. There used to be a car in the family before the accident scrapped it.

I lock the door and approach the car.

“Adams?” The driver asks. He’s black. Has a gold chain on his neck and rings in his fingers. At least he’s not wearing a hat. I wouldn’t have sat in the car in that case.

 “You alone?” He asks looking at me through the rearview mirror.
I don’t see anything immoral in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“Just want to know if we are waiting for anybody?” He says animatedly, smiling shyly through his teeth that are whiter than marble.
“No,” I say staring out of the window, looking at my house and its closed door. “I’m alone.”

I message Nick on the way to ask about his location. He replies he’s already there and has taken a seat by the window.

Ten minutes later, we are there. The car stops and the drivers look at me through the rearview mirror again. His phone rings and he looks at it to confirm the payment. Of course, I pay him. It’s only a few dollars anyways. No need to scam someone who’s grinding daily for a living.

The ride wasn’t insufferable as I initially believed it would be.  The driver didn’t make any unnecessary attempts to have a conversation after the initial questions. Neither did he do anything that would endanger our lives on the highway, like call someone while driving. I guess I judged him wrong.

He asks for a five-star review as I’m getting out of the car and I oblige him with it. He gives me his number and asks me to call him if he ever needs a ride. I save it on my phone.

Thanking the man, I start walking toward the MacDonald’s as the car drives away behind me.

I pass the front gate and see Nick sitting by the window, typing on the phone, looking very concerned. He covers his head with the hood of a black Supreme hoodie. I recognize him anyways. I have seen that hoodie too many times to forget it. It could be someone else under the hoodie. But so what? He’s the one in trouble, not me. The result of our meetings depends upon whether he’s faithful to me or not. If he wants to play games then I’ll simply call him out and dump the drugs in the sewer in front of his eyes.   

I enter the front door and a moderate amount of noise hit me from all sides. Even jungles aren’t so loud in the evening. I know because my grandpa has a ranch and the jungles around his place are old and brutal.

I look around at the crowd. There are enough people inside for us to be inconspicuous, but not so many that we wouldn’t be able to talk without others hearing our conversation. I guess Nick knows his timings.

I walk toward him and see that he is already off the phone. It now lies in front of him on the table, beside the tray full of a happy meal. He looks anxious like someone had stolen a bag of weed from him. He doesn’t need to be. I’m not his enemy.

He sits with his back crouched, his head moving to and fro, looking for someone in the crowd. He wipes his face with his hands every time his eyes look in a new direction. His feet are moving, unable to stay still. His face looks fine, but there seems to be something wrong with him. He’s leaning toward his right. His breathing is heavy and deep. He seems to be having difficulty breathing.

The food is also untouched.

He sees me and straightens up. At least he doesn’t stand up to welcome me like a Japanese gangster. Movies, man, the more you watch them the more you realize how different other societies and cultures are from your own.

Nick watches me and grimaces as I throw the bag on the seat opposite him and take a seat.

“Hey,” I say with a smile. He doesn’t smile. I guess, only a maniac on a death wish would smile in his situation.
“Is this for me?” I say pointing at the tray on the table.
“Sure,” He says without a change of face. The food is only a disguise for him I guess.
“So you have seen breaking bad, too?”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Tell me,” I say licking my lips. “Is the food tempered in any way?” This was a command and he answers rightfully so with a no.
“Thank god. I’m famished. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks,” He says watching me through his beady eyes, sweat sticking to his skin like dew on a leaf in the morning.

I pull the tray toward me, unwrap the burger and take a bite. I moan audibly to express my mood and to annoy him. Then ask him to pass the soda. He does it with indignation. Although he doesn’t express his thoughts, I do see his eyes tremble.

I eat his food. I drink his soda. Just to tell him that I am in no hurry to get rid of the drugs. That it would have no effect on me if he leaves. I make him wait while I eat, and the longer he waits the more anxious he gets. It starts with his feet tapping the floor and it doesn’t take long before he starts rapping the desk with his fingers. A cold drop of sweat slides down his forehead even though the ac is working properly in the joint.

I only eat a few agonizing bites of the burger and then throw the rest on the tray.

“All right, I say wiping my hands with the tissue paper. Throwing them in the tray too when I’m done.

He also gets tense realizing that whatever happens from here on out will profoundly affect his future.

“So you want the bag,” I ask staring at Nick.
“Yes,”
“And what will you give me in return?”
Smacking his lips and shaking his head, Nick pushes the tray toward me in anger.
“I knew it, man. I knew you wouldn’t give it to me just like that. Tell me,” He says suppressing his animated actions. “Did you even bring the shit here? Or the bags a decoy and is empty inside?”

My eyebrows rise in question. He keeps staring anyways. So I pull up the bag to the table. The act startles him.

Like an ant touched on the back, he flares his mandibles at me. “What are you doing?” He asks in anxiousness, which turns into panic when I open the zipper to show him the bag's contents.

Nick hurriedly grabs my hand to stop me mid-way and then pulls the zipper close in a hurry. He then looks at me as I watch him with a smirk on my face. He hesitates for a minute and slowly pulls the bag towards him, and snatches it onto his lap when he doesn’t see me move.

I sigh and ask him. “Do you know why I didn’t stop you from taking the bag?” Knowing he wouldn’t speak I answer for him. “Because you and I know both know you can’t take this bag away with you if I don’t agree.”

He slides out of the seat to run away causing me to shake my head in disappointment.

“Sit back down,” I command him the moment he stands up.

The next second, he follows my words like a puppet and sits back down in the previous place with the bag tightly held in his lap. I don’t think even a wrestler could have pried it out of his hands. Not even with a crowbar.

“Will your dealer spare you if you return the bag to him?” I ask but Nick doesn’t answer. He stares at me scared out of his wits. His eyes are wide open and his pupils are blown to the rims. The sweat bead sliding his forehead is now full steam running down his face.

“Don’t resist. There is no point in it and answer the question.” I tell him not to cajole him. My power doesn’t force anyone to do anything. For him, my words are only a suggestion and his own mind makes up the reason for why he should follow them. Moreover, the swayed person doesn’t even wonder why he should follow my words. That is why I know I don’t need to care about any figuring out what’s happening. Because everything they do is voluntary.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.” He says.
“What are you really going to do with the bag? Are you even planning to give it back to your boss?”
“No.”  He shakes his head.
I knew it. “Why?” I ask knowing what he’ll say.
“He will kill me if I do that, man. He’ll think I hid the bag to rip him off or something.”
“So what were you going to do with it? Hide it for now and then sell the stuff later to make money?”
“I don’t know.”

I wait for him to continue, but that s all he has to say. He honestly disappoints me. I wonder If I’m a fool for wanting to return him thousands of dollars worth of drugs to save his life. While he’s ready to push himself down a darker rabbit hole just for a wad of cash.

Since he doesn’t have the wisdom to make the decision for himself. I decided to make it for him.

“You are going to return the drugs to your dealer and tell him that you are out of the business. Okay?”
“Okay,” He says without a pause or hiccup.
“If they ask you how you lost the drugs, you tell them the truth. You say I took them from you. And if they ask you why I returned them, you can tell them to ask me themselves. Is that clear?”  
“Yes,”

Most people would call me stupid for meddling in other people’s business. He knew the consequence of working peddling drugs. He started doing this business knowing that he might die on the streets. Besides, I’m not Nick’s babysitter. I shouldn’t need to put myself in danger to get him off the hook this once. His life shouldn’t matter to me. Even if I took his drugs, my conscience should be clear now that I’m returned them back to him. And it doesn’t.

The reason I want to help him: firstly, I hate crime and drugs are one of the biggest reasons behind crime; secondly, I want to help him and change his fate.

As far as I know, If I hadn’t meddled in Nick’s business, he probably would have become a deader himself in time, destroying who knows how many lives in turn. But by telling him to leave the business, I’m changing not only his fate but also the fate of everyone who will be touched by him in the future.

I guess one can say I’m playing god in this small city. But I’m not. The more I help others and put them on the right path, the stronger my powers grow. When I first got the power, I could barely charm one or two people at one time. Even until a year ago, I could not charm more than five people at a time. What I did in the cafeteria was only possible because I’ve helped many people find hope in their darkest times.

Then my phone rings. It’s Em’. I pick up but don’t hear a voice on the receiver and wonder if none knows how to take a call anymore.

“Em’,”
“Hey,” The sweet voice comes from the other side. “Where are you?”
“I’m with a friend,” I say causing Nick to snort. I ignore him and continue, “What about you?”
“I’m home.” She doesn’t say much but I get what she’s implying.
“When will you be ready?” I ask, reminding her about her promise to go on a date with me.
“I’m ready.”
I nod. “Then I’ll give you another half an hour to get ready.”
“Rascal,” I hear her smile in her voice. She chuckles twice and agrees.
“All right then. Wait for me.”
“By the way,” I was going to put the phone down when she says. “I called June and she agreed to come along. So…”

Sky, you are a fucking fly in my cup!

“You are really stubborn. Do you know?” I say tiredly and add without pause, “But that’s what I like about you.”
I wanted to ask her if she called June because I scared her, but that wasn’t a question I wanted an answer to. So I reply with a defeated voice to convey that she's ahead of me this time. Because girls like to have an illusion of having the upper hand, but they don’t really want to win the game.  

“I’ll call him,” I tell her. Then I put the phone down and look at Nick who has been looking around to see if anyone is suspicious of us.

“Don’t worry that much. Nobody cares about two guys sitting at a window booth sharing a meal. They probably think we are gay.”
 
My joke doesn’t spark the response I am looking for, but who cares. I guess it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“One more thing before we leave,” Finally I have his attention again. This was not a command. There is nothing suggested in this sentence.

Nick looks at me worriedly, but his worry is unbiased.

“Do you have a car?” I ask him with a purely evil smile on my face.