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Curiosity Killed The Cat (Quix & Demolition)

Mr Quixotic

The Lowest Form Of Wit
Withdrawn
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.
 
Samantha sat in her car, parked outside of Pandora's, for the better part of 30 minutes now. She'd heard through the grapevine that if she spoke to the right person here she'd be able to acquire something to take the edge off, like really take it off. The last few months had been nightmarish. Between the regular stresses of work a dysfunctional marriage things were hard enough. But two months ago her husband, Andrew Peters, had announced his intention to make the leap from law into politics. He was running for mayor, and suddenly Samantha found herself under a microscope. There were constant lectures and reminders that they needed to be prefect. It had finally driven her over the edge.

She'd built up the resolve after a rather nasty fight with Andrew that she would treat herself to something she hadn't tried since college, she was going to get high and have a night out, away from her stress. But she lost her nerve in the parking lot. She sat there, debating with herself a while. She'd fire up the engine to leave, but be reminded of Andrew's smug face at home and kill it again.

Eventually she took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. She glanced back at her reflection in the car window. She had donned a long auburn wig she'd gotten for a costume party once, in the hopes anyone who may have recognized her in the dark club wouldn't. Though it felt a tiny bit thrilling too, like she was now playing the role of a more free, more wild woman. "Eliza." She named herself for the night.

She walked into the club wearing a blue and black color block body on dress and patent black pumps. She felt emboldened for the first time in a long time. She headed over to the bar and ordered herself a Cosmo.
 
Pandora's was rocking, and Josh paused outside to survey the crowd. Mostly regulars; guys in torn jeans and ripped t-shirts, ear-rings in their noses and brows, girls in either way too short dresses, or booty shorts that left little to the imagination, tits hanging out of low cut tops, dyed, multi-coloured hair, and cosmetics caked on so thick that they'd require a trowel to remove/ More than half appeared to already be stoned, or stumbling from the effects of alcohol. It should be a profitable night.

With no requirement to wait in line, he pushed his way through the sea of people, and greeted the two mountains of muscle who guarded the front entrance. All three exchanged fist bumps, then the bouncers allowed him entrance.

"The usual?" A beer waited on the counter.

Thanking Max, the barman, they conversed briefly, before Josh swiveled to face the dance floor, and take in the crowd. He'd enjoy the beverage, and appraise the situation, before he went to work. His customers weren't going anywhere, and most knew well enough to leave him alone until word spread that the shop was open. However, not all, for after he lowered his beer, and wiped the foam from his lips with the back of a hand, a spaced-out blonde approached.

"Babe, got any shit?" Wearing a skirt that barely reached her upper thighs, the girl slurred her words, and her breath reeked of liquor, when she plonked herself in his lap, waving a wad of cash in the air.

"Why don't you make it a little more obvious?" Josh plucked the offered payment from between her fingertips, and roughly ejected her from his lap. "That's what you owe. Now, fuck off."

"Asshole."

Not caring that the girl had stumbled to her knees, before being dragged away by friends, Josh's attention had been garnered by the cusomer a few feet away, ordering a Comsos. A women he didn't recognise as a regular, and who, from what he'd gathered, having noted her the moment she'd stepped through the entrance, appeared to be without company.

After briefly dropping his gaze to inspect the body under the dress, enhancing his initial positive impression, Josh sidled closer, and arched a brow. "My boyfriend stood me up, I'd need a drink, too." Naturally curious as to the strangers identity, and her purpose in entering an establishment like Pandora's seemingly alone, the man issued his stab-in-the-dark assumption, designed to elicit information, in a jocular, friendly tone, accompanied with a charming smile. "I'm Josh."
 
Samantha look over curiously to the stranger who's decided to strike up conversation with her. He doesn't strike her as the type that would typically be stood up. She wondered if he was in fact gay and stood up by his boyfriend or if this wasn't a ploy to get her talking. She quickly decided that Eliza wouldn't care if it was in fact the latter, she was there for some fun, so really a little flirting couldn't hurt. "Eliza." She replied with a smile. "No boyfriend to stand me up. But my girlfriends all bailed on me. Everyone was so insistent we needed a girls' night out. And low and behold they've all been bailing. Of 4 women only one hasn't cancelled, but she's not answering her phone either. Can you believe people?" The lie rolls off her tongue with a surprising ease.

Her cocktail arrives, she hands the bartender a twenty and tells him "No change."

She turns back to Josh and raises her glass. "To the assholes in our lives." The statement reminded her of Andrew, the ass hole in her life.
 
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