Chapter 4.5 Susan with Michelle meets Mads - Mads puts gun in her groin

Susan's entire body tightened as the man who had tried to kill her slid into the booth beside her. His name was Madison McCormack. His friends called him Mads to his face and Mad behind his back. That latter of his nicknames most accurately described him. He was well known for his irrational and fiery temper. Everyone who had spent any amount of time in his presence had known him to take explosive offence at even the slightest off-hand remarks.

It was five years ago that Mads had sold Susan the hot-shot that had almost sto. It was common practice in the drug world to cut class A's with thinners to increase the volume of product. The majority opted for baby-teeth, a powered gum numbing agent designed to alleviate the pain of teething in new borns. But other, more creative and adventurous dealers experimented with cutting their product with anything from rat-poison to powdered drain cleaner. Sometimes these chemicals actually increased the high, or they at least added a new dimension to it, but more often than not they caused horrific side effects, and if taken at too high of a dose, death.

It was one of these particular experimental batches that almost laid Susan out cold forever. She felt that there was something wrong the moment she inject the toxic cocktail. Fortunately for her, she had the wherewithal to know that she was about to pass out and managed to phone emergency services before she did. She woke to find herself in a hospital, the attending nurse told her just how close she had come to dying with a look of disgust on her face. 

At the time Susan had hated the nurse for her judgement, but now, in hindsight, now that she had been clean and clear for over a year, she could see how selfish she had been, and no longer bared ill-will toward the nurse. As Susan often reminded herself, the nurse did, after all, save her life. 

Mads turned his gap toothed smile to Susan and soaked her in for a moment, before offering, 'Susie-Sue, damn girl, it's been a minute, I ain't seen you in how long?'

Susan didn't look at Mads as she replied flatly, 'Eleven months, three weeks, two days, four hours...' there she paused and looked up at a wall clock before continuing, '...and thirty three minutes.'

Mads nodded, impressed in one way, but unimpressed in another. He cut right to it, 'So what ya’ll party girls want?' A chill fell over the conversation.  Michelle locked eyes with her hands that were laced and resting in her lap. She refused to look up. 

'Whas'a'matter? You guys called me, right? You don't call 'less you want something, so out with it, what's it gonna be?'

Another beat of silence swelled before Susan spoke, 'Actually, we're good. We don't need anything.'

Confusion crossed Mads' face. He looked from Michelle to Susan, and quickly read the situation. Susan sat rigid, unmoving, while Michelle scratched her arm nervously. The only time a junkie could sit still was when they've just had a shot. Rest of the time their nervous system is screaming out for a fix. Mads knew first hand, himself being what he liked to refer to as a 'recreational user'. He was, of course, in denial of the magnitude of his habit. The amount he used was far more regular and in far greater quantity than what a district court judge would deem 'recreational.'

Mads prodded one of his fat fingers into Susan's arm and announced, 'Correction, you don't want nothin'.' Mads turned his pointer on Michelle before continuing, 'But she most certainly does. And if I recall rightly, she made the call, so why don't you jog on to your NA meeting and let us get on with it?'  

Michelle looked up at Mads, she opened her mouth as though to speak but Susan cut her off with, 'All due respect Mads, but we're good.'

Mads turned his whole body so it directly faced Susan. On a good day Mads weighed in at two hundred and fifty pounds, on a bad day, and if he had had a particularly indulgent week, that number rose very close to three hundred. He leaned intimidatingly close to Susan, but to her credit she held her ground and didn't lean away from him, despite her body reflexively wanting to put as much distance between her and his rancid breath. 

He spoke pointedly, each word barbed, 'I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but that ain’t how I roll. I come out here to make a sale and I’m’a do that. Now I'm gonna repeat myself just this once, what do you want?'

Susan looked to Michelle and asked, 'How much you got?'

Michelle cleared her throat before replying weakly, ''Bout fourteen bucks.'

Mads screwed up his face, 'You dime me out for fourteen bucks?'

'It's all I've got,' Michelle added with a shrug. Mads shook his head, he hated dealing with broke-ass junkies but he wasn't about to get up and walk out. He'd made the effort, he'd given up his time to make this sale, and damn it, he wasn't leaving this shit-hole cafe without something to show for his time.

Susan fished in her pockets and came up with six dollars in change. She put it on the table and prompted Michelle to do the same, which she did.

Mads stared at the twenty dollars in scrunched bills and mixed coins laying pathetically before him. 

'You’re thirty short. Minimum callout’s fifty.'

'But I've bought less than fifty from you before?' Michelle blurted out. 

'Yeah, when you came to me. When I come to you, minimum's fifty. Gotta make it worth my while, feel me?'

Michelle scowled at that and looked as though she was about to continue arguing her point but Susan cut her off, 'That money isn't for drugs. Take that back to Tommy and tell him we're sorry we wasted his time, that twenty is by way of an apology.'

This caused Mads to actually laugh out loud and announce, 'Shit you have been outta the game a minute. You didn't hear? Tommy got, how should I put this, Tommy got retired.'

Susan took that in, knowing full-well what 'retired' meant in that context.

Mads continued, 'Ain’t no one running shit but me. South Street all the way down to Trumbull, that’s all mine, baby.' 

Mads moved much faster than his behemoth frame would suggest he could and produced a Glock from his pocket. He slid it between Susan's legs and pressed the muzzle hard against her privates.

He sneered as he whispered in her ear, 'Now if you ain’t got thirty in cash I can always take it in kind.'