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his parents to their own assumptions, which were pretty much correct anyways. T then called around a couple of mutual friends to see if anyone had heard from him. Everyone I spoke to pointed their fingers in the same direction and the worst place possible, Ritchie’s house. One of his best friends told me of how bad he was doing, “He’s not the same guy anymore, and all he cares about is the next high he gets. If we don’t get anything for him he just loses it and goes off somewhere.” It was hard to hear how badly affected my best friend was and a part of me secretly hoped they weren’t right. Still defending him, I told everyone I had spoke too while trying to find him that T.J would be fine, he’s just probably going through a bad phase, like we all do sometimes and needs people to have his back more than ever now. I was pretty much laughed at on the spot, most people that I considered my friends at the time were only friends by association. As long as we all looked the part, acted the part, and could handle the part, only then did they want to be around us. The last person I called was the last person I had hoped he wasn’t with and it turned out that everyone was right. He was with one of the biggest Coke dealers in our area, Ritchie-Rich, as everyone used to call him. He didn’t look like a typical strung out junkie or dealer. Instead he looked like your average preppy college grad with aspiring propositions. He dressed well and acted like a nice guy to imminent clients only to get them hooked on his drugs and then tums them out onto the streets. He was a businessman and his business was thriving. He carried everything from most drugs to guns and knives. Having ears in all places made him a dangerous acquaintance. Using kids off the local Palm Beach streets to run his dirty errands and the errands of the others above him, he made his money by using these teenagers, who as hard as it was to believe was once somebodies sweet child. I knew T.J didn’t have the finances to support himself or his drug habit so the likelihood of him being indebted to Ritchie in other ways was a safe assumption. Obtaining Ritchie’s number from one of T.J’s friends Marcus he asked me, “What do you want to call Ritchie for? Come over to my place and I can get you whatever you want” Marcus was a sleaze bag who would tirelessly continue to try to appeal to my lesser sense of judgment, never getting the hint or just not caring that I could never and would never be interested in him. “No Thanks Marcus, can I just get the number please, it’s very important that I get ahold of TJ, 'm really worried about him.” I hated having to call this guy let alone have to ask him for something. “Is this about the Adam bullshit? Cause if it is you can let him know what a fucking bitch he is for not showing up to be there for him, you can tell him from me that it’s his fault and it should’ve been him that’s lying in the morgue now, not Adam” I was totally thrown 99 U Copyright Protected Material CONFIDENTIAL GIUFFRE004232 by his allegations I could only mutter out a whisper “Did you just say that Adam is dead, what happened?” “Oh snaps, | thought you knew, where have you been girl, under a rock or something?” Marcus was less than sensitive about his statements. “He got shot in the head by two black guys who got suspicious when their usual supplier didn’t show up, your boy T.J was so fucked up he didn’t even remember to turn up at Ritchie’s for the delivery, so Ritchie sent Adam alone and now he’s dead.” Adam was a sweet kid who just happened to be born living on the wrong block. Best friends with T.J since childhood, the two were inseparable until puberty hit and even then they would chase girls together. Adam followed in T_J’s every footstep, mimicking his shadow, if T.J jumped off the Eifel Tower then so would Adam so when T.J got hooked on drugs consequently Adam did too, leading ultimately to his death. Wanting to end the conversation with Marcus quickly I scribbled down the phone number on a blank piece of paper in front of me and hung up the phone to call Ritchie’s place immediately. “Yeah?” It was Ritchie whom bluntly answered the phone after the first ring. “Hi -Uh- Rich, It’s Jenna, T.J’s ex, we met a couple of times at a few parties” I was trying to remind him of who | was knowing how paranoid he was about people having his number. “Oh yeah, I know who you are, what is it you want?” He answered with a dry tone. “ | was hoping you could tell me where I could find T.J, Pve heard some stuff and am really worried about him, is he alright?” Ritchie snickered at my concerns. “What are you his Mom or something? He’s fine, he should be back here around five o’clock, I'l! tell him you called.” In the middle of me saying “Thanks and good-bye” he hung up the phone, as there is no room for manners in his line of work. | waited until five o’clock watching the minutes on the clock tick past and when five o’clock came and passed by with still no phone call, I couldn’t deny to myself that I wasn’t stricken with distress. Falling asleep wasn’t easy either. I ended up crashing out on my sofa watching T.V, half expecting to hear of another murder on the news and it being TJ. Forgetting to put on my eye mask before I went to bed, I was woken up the next morning by rays of the sun beaming into my living room, When I sleep I am a creature of darkness, avoiding any window light at all costs. Staggering to the coffee pot not used to getting up this early, my first thought that day was T.J and why he hadn’t called. A million thoughts rushed through my head like a steam train...is he ok? Is he not calling because he is still mad from our last breakup? Has he moved on to someone else? Is he in any trouble? Did Ritchie even pass on my message? The thoughts were an endless infliction, consuming my entire day. 100 O Copyright Protected Material CONFIDENTIAL HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_021194 GIUTTFRE004233