11
Arsen
“It doesn’t matter!” I hiss at my brother, as we enter my room. “The Carollas may be dead, but their street-level dealers are still clinging to the idea that they will be back someday. And this big deal with the Columbians was supposed to go through today, but now it’s f*****g ruined because of those f*****g bastards.”
I rip my black button-up off over my head, seething. I’m frustrated beyond belief, unwilling to even believe that the city of New Orleans would bother to mourn the Carollas. From everything I have heard, they treated everyone around them like s**t.
So, why should their dealers feel any loyalty to them? Especially, when I came in after the Carollas disappeared and waved fat stacks of cash around?
Money is all that matters to anyone. The sooner the city of New Or
