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Justice

Allan Onik

    Devin opened his apartment door. A man stood shivering outside. It was raining, and his clothes and hair were drenched. “I’ve come for my usual,” the man said. He held out an unhooked car stereo and 200 dollars cash.
    “Very well,” Devin said. He took the money and stereo and placed a small bag of heroin in the man’s outstretched hand.
    “See you tomorrow,” the man said.
    Devin shut the door.

    In the club, Devin sipped a glass of champagne. He felt his Glock in his front pocket. He had a pale face, and wore a knit hat.
    “Yo, my man, Devin.” An obese man wearing gold chains and baggy jeans sat down next to him.
    “Hi Geno,” Devin said.
    “We make any sales today?”
    “A few.”
    “Nobody tried to steal nothin’?”
    “Not today.”
    “Good.”
    Devin slipped some cash across the bar table.
    “You know,” Geno said, “we’re going to Hell someday. We’re the scum of this city. Fancy cars, fancy clothes, nightly clubbing, and women. We have no place in God’s eyes.”
    “I don’t believe in Hell or God,” Devin said, “Besides, we’re providing a wanted service. We don’t force needles on anyone.”
    “That doesn’t make it right,” Geno said. “I grew up Catholic. My mom was single and poor, but she would be pained if she understood what I did to people for my money. The misery I impose. I just can’t resist the life.”
    “Amen to that,” Devin said. He downed his champagne. A stripper danced in front of him. She was topless and wore heavy makeup.
    “Well, Hell or no, we must someday face up to our sins. You reap what you sow, as the saying goes. Like balancing scales—if one side goes up the other must come down. So live it up. Whether we want to accept it or not, Justice will touch us. It will hit us in ways we may not expect for all the good or ill. It is karma, what God intended when he created the cosmos.”
    “Since when did you retire from drug dealing and become a fortune teller?”
    “This isn’t coming from me. I got a Tarot reading the other day off a mystic by Fifth and Oak. She told me everything I just told you. Like a mind fuck.”
    “Don’t listen to that garbage,” Devin said, “We’re nothing but dust when we die. We’re animals. There are no powers out there; we’re just a bunch of monkeys in suits. Think of Darwin, my friend.”
    “What if Darwin was right, and these Psychics, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and Mystics are right too? What if you can have both? Like a One Tree?”
    “You need some smack, it’ll clear your head.”
    “I’d never touch the stuff. I’m just into the money.”
    “Aren’t we all,” Devin said.

    Devin staggered across the streets. His steps were haphazard, and he burped. A black cat ran across the alleyways. Devin stepped on a glass beer bottle, shattered it, and tripped. He fell on his knees and his jeans soaked up the wetness on the ground. “Fuckin’ a” Devin said. He crawled to a park bench twenty yards away and lit up a cigarette. After the cigarette, he rolled a joint and leaned back. “We’re nothing but dust when we die. We’re just monkeys in suits,” Devin said to himself.
    “Hey, Devin!” His earlier sale ran up to him, “That was some good stuff you gave me today! You should try it!”
    “I don’t do dope,” Devin said, “It’s bad for you. Stay away from it.”
    “I wish I could. It’s a little too late for that.”
    “It’s never too late.”
    “Sometimes the past can’t be undone. We must live up to our mistakes, and accept our sins.”
    “Well, nothin’ on me now. You’ll have to stop by my place tomorrow.”
    “I was wondering if I could get another dose now?”
    “No, tomorrow,” Devin said.
    “But you have some at your apartment right?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you keep your keys on you right?”
    Devin reached for his Glock but it was too late. The junkie shot him four times in the chest with a Colt Gold Cup .45. He began to loot the carcass.

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