Easy Street Read online

  “When?”

  “As soon as possible,” Adam said. “The courses I can take to finish high school run all the time. I could start in the summer and then take some courses in the fall in whatever program I decide to go into. Graphic design looks interesting.”

  Adam seemed like his old self again. The one prior to his stint as a middleman for drug dealers. The one before he got lost in high school and couldn’t find anything that interested him. The Adam who’d once been my best friend and brother.

  Still, I had a bad feeling about it.

  “Can we borrow the car tomorrow? Go to Toronto and see what’s what?”

  “We?” Mom asked.

  “Rob and I.”

  I sat up. “You want me to go with you?”

  “Yeah, why not? We can talk. And I’d like your opinion on the place. You know?”

  I looked at Mom. I could tell she was trying to read him too. Which Adam did we have in front of us? The sweet kid who’d always looked for our approval? Or the one who had lied and plotted to get whatever he wanted?

  I imagine we were both hoping it was the first one but frightened it was the second.

  “What do you think, Rob?” Adam asked.

  I hadn’t traveled at all since we’d followed Adam here. It had seemed as though exploring the world was for other people. The ones who had fewer worries. Maybe a future me would be able to do that.

  Despite all of this running through my head, I said, “That could be cool.”

  “You want to go tomorrow?” Mom said.

  “First thing,” Adam replied.

  “I guess so,” said Mom. “I can take the bus to work.”

  Adam leaned down and threw his arms around her neck. “Thanks, Mom. I am pumped about this.” He let her go and went inside.

  I caught Mom wiping her cheek with the back of her hand again.

  “You think he’s for real?” she asked without looking at me.

  “I’ll be there,” I said. “I’ll look out for him.”

  She nodded. “I know you will.” She patted my knee and inhaled deeply. “You’re a good brother. A good son.” She squeezed my knee. “You’re a good person, Rob. So is Adam. He just needs a little help sometimes to remember that.”

  “Or believe it,” I said. But I don’t think she heard me.

  Chapter Four

  The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon as we pulled out of the driveway the next morning. Adam had tossed me the keys before getting in on the passenger side. He seemed very alert. He’d always been a night owl, but I figured prison had changed that.

  “Let’s hit Timmy’s on the way out,” he said, setting his seat almost straight up. This was new as well. He used to sit low in a car, the brim of his hat just above the steering wheel. I pulled into the Tim Hortons at the southern end of town. We went inside to order. When it came time to pay, he looked to me. Luckily, Mom had given me some money.

  “I’ll get the next one,” Adam said. The deep aroma of black coffee filled the car as we pulled back onto the road. I ate my breakfast sandwich and tried to relax. Not easy. It had been so long since I’d spent this kind of time with my brother that it was awkward to start a conversation. Anything to do with prison was out of bounds. Anything to do with Mary Jane’s death or what had happened to us all as a family over the past two and a half years.

  It seemed as though Adam wanted to pretend nothing had happened. Like it had all been a bad dream, gone now that we were awake.

  It was a four-hour drive to Toronto. Almost a straight shot south. At first Adam had the heat cranked, but an hour into the trip he turned it off and cracked the rear windows to let in some fresh air.

  “That’s cool that you’re interested in graphic design,” I said. We’d been silent for a long time, and it was becoming unbearable.

  “Remember when we used to go to that cottage in Muskoka?” he replied, completely ignoring my prompt.

  “Barry and Carol’s?”

  “Yeah, that was them,” Adam said, snapping his fingers. “Dad’s friends, right?”

  “I guess. We kept going once Dad was gone.”

  “Yeah. But I think I remember that Barry and Carol weren’t there when we went just with Mom. It was, like, we went from being invited up in the middle of August when it was hot to either June or September. We weren’t prime time anymore.”

  “I guess,” I said. I couldn’t remember the dates. It was a cottage we got to go to. There was a lake we swam in. Boats we rowed around. The bugs weren’t bad either. Thinking back, I also remembered necessary campfires and heavy blankets.

  “Good times,” he said.

  “In school I took a photography and graphic-design class,” I said, hoping to get him tell me more.

  “How was that?”

  “Better than math or French.”

  “I bet.”

  “I can see why you’re interested in it. Have you, like, been doing that kind of stuff the past couple of years?”

  Adam glanced over at me, then tuned the radio to a different station. “Not a lot of cameras or computers in there,” he said finally.

  “Oh.” Now I felt stupid for bringing it up.

  “There was one computer in the library, but we only got to go there a couple of times a week. And it wasn’t like they had Photoshop on it or anything.”

  “So have you been reading design magazines? There are tons of them.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said.

  “Which ones?” I wanted to tell him that I was interested in graphic design as well. DJing used to be my creative output. When I quit performing, I needed something else to feed my imagination. I started taking photos and mashing them up. Just like I used to do with beats and songs. I wouldn’t say my stuff was any good, but it was passable. Better than what a lot of kids in my class spewed out anyway.

  “I forget.”

  “Okay,” I said, deciding to let it drop. “Did you set up appointments to see anyone on campus while we’re down there?”

  “It’s Friday.”

  “There’ll be people there on Friday.”

  “I just want to get a feel for everything first.”

  “I get it. Find some program information and all that. See what the place is like, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool.”

  We drove in silence for a bit. Then my brother asked a question that surprised me. “You think Mom wants to stay up there?”

  I decided honestly was the best way to answer. “We only moved for you,” I said. Adam nodded a few times, and I wondered if that sounded awful. Like, we’d moved to what was obviously a crappy place in order to be close to him. The thing was, where we’d lived before was no dream either.

  “Yeah. I was just thinking. Maybe Toronto would be better for her now. More work? Higher pay?”

  “We were kind of waiting for you to come back before we made any big decisions.”

  “Well,” he said, “I’m back.” He set his seat back slightly and rolled his window down a crack.

  We got into the city just after one o’clock and immediately hit traffic. I’d had my phone GPS set to Humber College’s lakefront campus, but as soon as we crossed the 401, Adam started giving me directions.

  “First we hit the Don Valley Parkway, then Richmond, Sherbourne, Queen.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just drive, okay?”

  I hate driving in the city. There are always pedestrians coming out of nowhere, bike couriers, other cars. It is pure chaos. As soon as we got onto

  Queen Street, I started wishing I’d stayed home.

  “Seriously, Adam. Where are we going?”

  “I’m meeting up with a friend,” he said. “Don’t worry—we’ll get to the college eventually.”

  I did worry. I worried a lot. “Take George Street here,” Adam said. I turned, and Adam pulled a little piece of paper from his pocket. “Pull in here.”

  “Where?”

  “Right here.
The alleyway.”

  I did as I was told. He was my brother, after all. Even if I knew better, I still trusted him.

  Chapter Five

  The basement apartment was incredibly hot. The guy who let us in was wearing a dirt-covered sleeveless T-shirt and cut-off jeans. He removed his glasses and wiped his face with a handkerchief.

  “Adam?” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “This your brother?”

  “Yeah. Rob.”

  “You spin mad beats?” the guy asked me.

  I stared blankly. Adam pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the guy. I recognized it as one of my old flyers.

  “DJ Rob Solo. Star Wars nerd, are you?” he asked me.

  I turned to Adam, but he was avoiding making eye contact. What was going on? He’d said we had a stop to make, that was all.

  “Whatever,” the guy continued. “If you can spin that old techno stuff, that’s all that matters.”

  There was music playing. I hadn’t noticed it before. I instantly knew the song. I guess my face must have given me away, because the guy said, “Yeah? Yeah? What is it?”

  “Photek,” I said. “The Hidden Camera.”

  The guy nodded a couple of times, then shut the door behind us. “Those were the days. Hard beats. Only a few people even making this stuff. So you had to be good. Not all this remixing and auto-tune and guest vocalists. This,” he said, snapping his head to the beat. “This was music. Anyway, come on in here. We can talk while I finish what I was doing.”

  We walked through the kitchen. The temperature rose as we crossed the room. When the guy opened the door on the other side, we were hit by a wave of tropical heat. It felt warmer than the warmest summer day. But also wet and muggy.

  “I’m Ben, by the way.”

  “I figured,” Adam said.

  “Mike says you can help us.”

  “We can,” Adam said.

  Ben’s glasses had steamed up. He removed them and wiped the lenses with his handkerchief. The room was a serious grow op. Pot plants were stacked on three levels, plastic covering everything to keep in the heat and moisture. I had never been anywhere so bright before. “Your brother cool with his part?”

  “That’s the bit I don’t understand yet,” Adam said.

  Ben replaced his glasses and wiped at his head. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He went to a computer and removed a plastic wrap from it. “We had this guy lined up for the DJ part. DJ Oaklay. Like the sunglasses but with an a. Anyway, he got busted last week for something. I don’t know what, and I don’t much care. All I know is he’s now unavailable. So we need another DJ. Honestly, the DJ isn’t even in on this. He’s just our way in.” Ben turned to me, removed his glasses again, wiped them dry, then replaced them. He looked at Adam. “Does he know what’s going on?”

  “No,” Adam said.

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. I was confused. There were other people in the room, moving around between the plants. One guy looked up from a tablet he was staring at and gave me a little wave.

  “Okay. So as you can see, we grow pot here. We are a respectable business as far as pot growing goes. I mean, we don’t cut this stuff with fentanyl or any of that shit. We do hybrids, some oils, sometimes a bit of shatter. But no chemicals. This is about as pure as you can get. Thing is, the government’s getting into the game, and the people who buy our stuff will start going to the Weed Board or whatever the hell they’re going to call it. So we’re looking to diversify.”

  “Not into chemicals,” Adam said. “That’s what Mike said. No chemicals.”

  “In fact, the exact opposite. My partner wants to make cider.”

  “Cider?” I said.

  “Like, alcoholic apple juice.” Ben rolled his eyes. “I know. But the stuff sells. Thing is, we don’t have a lot of capital to start up a new business. I mean, we can get some backers, but we need to show that we’re okay sinking our own money into this. Money that we don’t have. We have the space, and my partner is getting the equipment. But still, we need money and we need it fast. Faster than these plants can grow. What you see before you is the final batch.”

  “Mike said something about a club?” Adam said.

  “The club. Yeah. It’s called Industrial. It’s just off King Street. It’s been there for ages. But we all know they’re only in business to sell drugs. They run their own game in there. Lots of pills. They have booze as well, but it’s the pills people come for. They take five dollars, cash, at the door from anyone who enters. They change the lighting and the music four times a night. And because of that, the clientele changes four times a night. But everyone who comes in pays their five bucks.” Ben pulled the cover back over the computer. “This’ll get you pissed, Mr. Solo. They say the cover charge is for the DJs, but that’s absolute bullshit. The DJs, or at least most of them, do it for free. They think it’s building their brand or whatever.”

  “I don’t really DJ anymore,” I said quietly.

  Ben looked at Adam.

  “He can. He’s just mostly quit. Nowhere to do it up north.”

  “Ah, you can still spin though? You have two sets. This Oaklay guy spins hard beats. You cool with that?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Yeah, he’s good,” said my brother.

  “Maybe I should hear you spin first? You fuck up, and this falls apart. Remember, you’re DJ Oaklay. With an a.”

  “He knows,” said Adam. “And he’s good.”

  Ben looked at me hard, then shrugged. “All told, we should pull in about fifteen grand.”

  “No way,” I said. I’d never heard of a club having three thousand people show up in one night.

  “Likely more,” Ben said. “Friday is their big night. As soon as one crowd leaves, another arrives.” We followed him back to the kitchen. I caught sight of two guys standing in front of what looked like a giant kettle. They both had beards and dark-framed glasses. Ben shut the door. It felt like the temperature dropped about fifteen degrees.

  “What am I doing?” Adam asked.

  “You’re DJ Oaklay’s plus one. You get to go backstage with him, hang out in the green room. Which is right next to the office. And right next to the office is an emergency exit. Tomorrow morning around five a.m., after the chill crowd has settled in, you’re going to grab the money and walk out that door.”

  “What about cameras? Security?”

  “They have both for sure.”

  “So what about Rob?”

  “Rob will be gone. He has a five a.m. set, and then he leaves. You linger, grab the cash and meet us outside.”

  “And why can’t you do this yourself?”

  “They know us. Plus, we live here. You guys are nobodies. You do this, get in your car and leave town three grand richer.”

  “Mike said four.”

  “Did he?” Ben scratched his head. He pulled a large backpack from a hook and shoved it at Adam. “If this bag comes back with more than fifteen in it, you get four. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds like something out of my control,” Adam said.

  “You fill a bag and walk outside. That pays you three grand. It’s not complicated.”

  “No, it’s not,” Adam agreed.

  “This is some Robin Hood shit, man,” Ben said, opening the door to the street. There was a bit of a breeze and even though it was pretty hot outside, it still felt cool “We’re robbing some bad guys. For a good cause.” He smiled a crooked little smile. We stepped outside, and Ben held the door for a moment. “So you’re in? You’re in one hundred percent?”

  “Yeah,” Adam said. “We’re in.”

  “You know where the club is?” Adam held his phone up. “Be there at nine. You play at eleven and five. Oh, here.” He held a USB stick out to me. “Here’s a bunch of the shit this Oaklay guy normally plays. I bet there are full sets on there already mixed. Dude likes to pretend to do stuff, then just wave his arms around. DJ Oaklay with
an a.”

  “With an a,” Adam said, giving Ben a fist bump.

  “With an a,” Ben replied. “We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  He shut the door. Adam immediately walked to the car. I stood there for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Chapter Six

  I laid into him the second we got back in the car.

  “What the hell is this about? I haven’t DJed in almost three years! And you’re going to rob these guys? What the hell are you thinking? How is that even possible? Do you think it’s all as easy as they make it out to be? The money will just be sitting there in a big bag with a dollar sign on it? Are you out of your mind? And who’s Mike? How did you get mixed up in this?”

  “Are you done?” my brother asked.

  “No, I’m not even close to being done, Adam.”

  “How about we drive a little and discuss this.”

  I agreed. I wanted to get the hell away from that house. I was drenched from the heat of that place, and I cranked the AC the second I got the car running.

  I pulled onto Queen Street and let Adam direct me. It was rush hour, so the streets were packed with people trying to get home. We moved at a snail’s pace, and, with the AC on full blast, I felt my anger begin to subside.

  “I know Mike from prison,” Adam said. It was the first time I’d heard him use the word. “He did me a favor in there. Ben’s his brother. Mike wants to keep him out of trouble, and this cider business seems legit.”

  “So you’re willing to commit a crime to keep someone else out of trouble? Even if it means you could end up back in prison?”

  Adam shook his head. “It seems easy enough. Turn right.”

  I signaled, but no one was letting me in. So I sat there blocking two lanes of traffic. Horns blared.

  “You have to be bold, Rob.”

  I finally caught a break and cut in to head south.

  “It’s a stupid plan,” I said. “There’s not a chance it’s going to work. I didn’t play at that many big clubs, but I’ll say this much—they don’t just leave money lying around.”

  “This one does.”

  “How do you know?”