Nothing Is Too Much
“How old are you, Hollis.” I wondered aloud as we walked into a den.
“This is where the guards hang out when they’re not working,” he explained.
The space had everything to keep overgrown children entertained. A stocked kitchen, ping-pong and pool table, a big screen Television, and a wall of movies and video games. It also had patio doors that opened up onto a pool outside.
“Are you avoiding my question on purpose?” I put to him.
“What. Oh, I’m thirty,” he answered, distracted.
We made our way down another hallway. “Some of the night guards sleep in here,” he whispered, pointing at the bedroom doors that were closed.
I could hear off-tempo snoring and wheezing through the door. At the end of the hall was a room, housing a fully equipped gym with windows that looked out onto the pool.
There were two men in the middle of the room and a large opened box next to them. “It’s a high-speed treadmill,” Hollis announced. “I had the the room fixed up as a gym and some of the extra equipments installed so that you can still do the same stuff you normally do.”
We paused to watch the confused men arguing over the instructions manual, surrounded by pieces of something. “Well, he added, it will eventually be a high-speed treadmill when they are done arguing and fix it.”
When I had figured out that this gift of a gym was meant for me to use while I served my indefinite prison sentence, I said thank you, put an unadulterated smile on my face, and followed him out to the pool.
By that point, I had so many questions for him, that I didn’t even know where to start. He rolled up his jeans, and we plunged our feet into the cool pool water.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.
Hollis peered over my knees with a warm grin on his face. “Your skin looks amazing.” He complimented. “Heard you spend a chunk of your funds keeping it this beautiful. Do you need to have a private session with your nutritionist and dermatologist?”
“I can go?” I asked almost giddy.
“No, I’ll bring them to you.”
“That’s…. that’s too much.” I said
He shook his head. “Nothing is too much. You want something, you get it. Remember that, hmmm?”
“I nodded. “Nothing is too much.” I murmured.
“Absolutely nothing.”
******
I woke up feeling so tired and a bit rested. Hollis had left hurriedly yesterday with the instruction that I should rest and eat.
Leaving me with a young lady that was introduced as my help or whatever archaic name he called it. But her job was precisely to keep me company and help me with everything I need when Hollis was not around and to make herself scarce when he’s around.
As I chewed on my breakfast of cereals, I tried to think of what I would do to keep myself busy. “How long ago have you been working here?” I asked the lady.
“Seven years ma’am.” She replied.
“Seven wha….. that’s such a long time!”
She nodded. “You don’t have a better job, Miss….?”
“Alessia ma’am.”
“Yes, Miss Alessia.”
“I have no reason to walk away from my present job, Reina.”
“My name is Ugo, not some fuckin Reina.”
“Yes.” Alessia noted. “It’s a good job, pay is amazing, hospitality is great as well. I have no reason to quit.” She explained.
“Of course you do.” I murmured. “You like this…. this life. You get to be involved with…” I couldn’t say the word but Alessia said it for me.
“Drugs.” She said and I nodded feeling uneasy. I looked around, hoping that such admission won’t cause an issue for any of us.
“You can quit looking around Reina, the Boss instructed that you are kept abreast of any information you seem to take a liking to.” Alessia said a rehearsed line.
“So you’re okay with getting involved with drugs?” I didn’t need to be told what Hollis was involved in. It was obvious. Armed guards, talks about Molly, bombing, trafficking. Even a blind would have seen the clear picture already.
Alessia smiled, neither confirming nor denying what I said. “Honestly?”
Alessia nodded.
“Well, I think It’s just awful that these drugs might end up in the hands of kids,” I tried to put nicely.
“We don’t sell to kids,” she quickly replied, her brow furrowing.
“But you can’t control what happens to the product once it leaves here,” I said apologetically. “I mean, at some point, some street thug will try to push drugs on kids.”
Alessia shook her head. “Kids don’t decide to start taking drugs because of some pusher they don’t know on the street. They’re convinced through peer pressure, through family and friends. You know, children are more likely to start by looking through their parents’ medicine cabinet for drugs that won’t cost them anything.” She tried to table her rehearsed point and I almost laughed out loud, wondering if she knew who she was really talking to.
I breath arguments for a living and before I start one, I’ve already covered the bases, fully ready to give you comebacks, corrections and diss when necessary.
Deciding not to piss my company off or bark her up in in a shell, I went with the easy novice reply. “Yes, but drugs lead to violence,” I argued.
“Violence in the media has been the leading cause of violence. Illegal drugs might cause bad people to do bad things, but so do alcohol and licit drugs,” Alessia argued obviously feeling good about herself.
For what it’s worth, her line of argument sounded good and impressive, I give it to her.
“Most drug crimes relate to the sale of drugs.” She continued. “If selling drugs weren’t illegal, then they would free up the court system and jails.” She smiled, waiting with delight for what she might assume would be my comeback.
I shrugged, allowing her to enjoy her moment. Then I went in with another lame comeback, hoping she still had more fire up her sleeves to enjoy herself.
“Drugs are just really bad for you. People can die if they take drugs.” I said.
“Reina, people do all sort of things that are bad for their health. Like smoking, overfeeding even vegetable oils have been ruled as one of the major cause of heart diseases. You do know that heart disease is a leading cause of death in most part of the world. People die from the food they ingest and cigarettes than anything else.” She stated.
I nodded. “Understood, Alessia. I’m glad you love your choice of profession and it was not forced down your throat.”
“It was not Reina.” She acknowledged.
“Can’t you call me my name?”
She shook her head. “Sadly, I can’t. The Boss would have my head if I ever try it.”