Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2012
- Location
- Australia
Josh Kincaid had been the apple of his family's eye, and expected to make his mark on the world. Lone child of a Physician Father, and Nurse Mother, it had been presumed the young Josh would follow in the Patriarch's footsteps, and pursue the field of medicine. The teenage boy, with bright intelligence, had breezed through high-school, encountering a little trouble here and there - he'd always possessed a wild streak, something his parents put down to boredom, due to the classwork not being challenging enough -, but nothing major. Disrupting classes, smoking cigarettes, and partaking in illicit substances from time to time.
During his senior year, his interests had turned more from the fields of biology, human anatomy, and medicine, to Chemistry, for which he had an innate knack. The young man's parents hadn't been too disappointed when he declared that, rather than enter medical school to train as a Doctor, he'd obtain his degree in pharmacology. It was still a well-respected, and well-remunerated field. Their son was one to be proud of.
A decade later, after being expelled in his Sophomore year without a degree, and subsequently disowned by his parents, Josh remained involved in pharmacology. The illegal kind. It had commenced when he was a Junior, and only a few months in. The then eighteen year old discovered himself enjoying the extracurricular activities available at college much more than the classes. There was never a shortage of parties to attend, liquor to be drunk, and weed to smoke. Weed soon became pills, then cocaine. Josh's use was purely recreation, as he was intelligent enough to avoid potential addiction, however, that still cost money, and he'd offered to put his chemical expertise in exchange for free supplies.
That offer was accepted, and led to bigger and better things. Not too long after, he was running his own pharmaceutical supply company out of the dorms; keeping half the profit for himself, with the other half being sent to anonymous traffickers who supplied the narcotics. Well, supposedly half. With his knowledge, Josh managed to cut the product down, and increase the volume without reducing the effects. Those additional proceeds he kept for himself.
However, nothing lasted forever, and after his business became increasingly profitable, jealousy caused a rival to snitch. He'd never discovered which one, in the short period before his place at the school had been rescinded, and he was escorted from campus. The only bright light was that the prestigious College had a reputation to protect, and the authorities were not called in, although the Dean did inform Josh's parents. To say that his subsequent reunion with them did not go well, would be a gross understatement. Josh hadn't seen either his Mother of Father for nine years, and they now likely wouldn't even recognise their son if they ran into each other on the street.
The once clean-cut and angelic looking schoolboy had changed. He still retained his athletic six-foot, one inch, athletic frame, and piercing green eyes, but his dirty-blonde hair was now shaggy, and kept longer than his mother would have approved of, a silver earring pierced his left eyebrow, and a gold stud, his right ear. A tattoo of the serpent in the Garden of Eden ran up the dealer's right forearm, and spread out across his shoulder blade. Smaller, less obtrusive, tattoos adorned the opposing arm, and hip. "Hey, it's Josh. The product ready?" Kincaid cradled the phone between neck and ear, as he slipped on a black leather jacket over a short sleeve collarless white tee shirt, accompanied by Levi's and a pair of Doc Martens, awaiting confirmation. "Great, I'll be there in ten."
Departing his luxurious apartment in the mid-sized town of Robe, he stepped out into the cool fresh air. It was time to meet his contact, then head over to his regular haunt; a nightclub club named Pandora's, whose proprietor he'd known for five years; to earn some green. Kincaid was only a small fish in a large pond, however that was perfectly fine with him. It kept his business away from the attentions of the Law, and he made more than enough to support a comfortable existence. If he'd wished, he could have afforded to employ someone to make the sales on his behalf, but that wasn't Josh's way. He enjoyed the social aspect of doing it himself, and taking advantage of the unexpectedly large proportion of hot bitches who'd offer to spread their legs for a future discount, or second, expensive hit, in lieu of shelling out cash.
During his senior year, his interests had turned more from the fields of biology, human anatomy, and medicine, to Chemistry, for which he had an innate knack. The young man's parents hadn't been too disappointed when he declared that, rather than enter medical school to train as a Doctor, he'd obtain his degree in pharmacology. It was still a well-respected, and well-remunerated field. Their son was one to be proud of.
A decade later, after being expelled in his Sophomore year without a degree, and subsequently disowned by his parents, Josh remained involved in pharmacology. The illegal kind. It had commenced when he was a Junior, and only a few months in. The then eighteen year old discovered himself enjoying the extracurricular activities available at college much more than the classes. There was never a shortage of parties to attend, liquor to be drunk, and weed to smoke. Weed soon became pills, then cocaine. Josh's use was purely recreation, as he was intelligent enough to avoid potential addiction, however, that still cost money, and he'd offered to put his chemical expertise in exchange for free supplies.
That offer was accepted, and led to bigger and better things. Not too long after, he was running his own pharmaceutical supply company out of the dorms; keeping half the profit for himself, with the other half being sent to anonymous traffickers who supplied the narcotics. Well, supposedly half. With his knowledge, Josh managed to cut the product down, and increase the volume without reducing the effects. Those additional proceeds he kept for himself.
However, nothing lasted forever, and after his business became increasingly profitable, jealousy caused a rival to snitch. He'd never discovered which one, in the short period before his place at the school had been rescinded, and he was escorted from campus. The only bright light was that the prestigious College had a reputation to protect, and the authorities were not called in, although the Dean did inform Josh's parents. To say that his subsequent reunion with them did not go well, would be a gross understatement. Josh hadn't seen either his Mother of Father for nine years, and they now likely wouldn't even recognise their son if they ran into each other on the street.
The once clean-cut and angelic looking schoolboy had changed. He still retained his athletic six-foot, one inch, athletic frame, and piercing green eyes, but his dirty-blonde hair was now shaggy, and kept longer than his mother would have approved of, a silver earring pierced his left eyebrow, and a gold stud, his right ear. A tattoo of the serpent in the Garden of Eden ran up the dealer's right forearm, and spread out across his shoulder blade. Smaller, less obtrusive, tattoos adorned the opposing arm, and hip. "Hey, it's Josh. The product ready?" Kincaid cradled the phone between neck and ear, as he slipped on a black leather jacket over a short sleeve collarless white tee shirt, accompanied by Levi's and a pair of Doc Martens, awaiting confirmation. "Great, I'll be there in ten."
Departing his luxurious apartment in the mid-sized town of Robe, he stepped out into the cool fresh air. It was time to meet his contact, then head over to his regular haunt; a nightclub club named Pandora's, whose proprietor he'd known for five years; to earn some green. Kincaid was only a small fish in a large pond, however that was perfectly fine with him. It kept his business away from the attentions of the Law, and he made more than enough to support a comfortable existence. If he'd wished, he could have afforded to employ someone to make the sales on his behalf, but that wasn't Josh's way. He enjoyed the social aspect of doing it himself, and taking advantage of the unexpectedly large proportion of hot bitches who'd offer to spread their legs for a future discount, or second, expensive hit, in lieu of shelling out cash.
