Chapter 83

It seemed that I had my legal source for the pot waste. My next problem was going to be the license to buy processed marijuana waste. Since I didn't have any idea where to get help I made a call to the Church Camp. They sure as fuck owed me a favor. I hadn't called in any favors for all the years I worked for them, so I figured it was past time I did.

"Andrew I need a favor," I said once he was on the line.

"Then drive across the mountain and ask," he said before he hung up on me.

"Prick," I whispered under my breath. Of course I knew it was the only way to be a hundred percent secure. I realized that he knew it was something important since I would never call to ask for tickets to the super bowl. He knew that it wasn't that kind of favor. I began negotiations for the building across the street even before I had the license application.

"Well Miss Martin they want 50K for this building," The good old boy Realtor explained while standing in front of his pickup truck.

"The owner wants me to pay 50K for a pile of bricks. You do know that is all the fuck there is here?" I asked.

"Maybe so, but it's bricks in a pile across from your house," he said with a smile.

"For what I want, I can buy any building, including a metal out of the box building, one that requires no renovations at all." He knew it was true.

"So make me an offer and put some money with it. I'll take it to the owner," he said.

"Let me do some research and I'll come up with a fair price. I need to get in here again and take some pictures," I demanded. He just nodded so I got my camera. With it in hand, I did my second walk through of the day.

The second floor ceilings were dry. The Realtor had previously explained that the owner had the building inspected every three months and did then necessary repairs. The building's roof had another five or more years of service, according to the latest inspection.

The inspection also told me the foundation was solid. Everything else was cosmetic. The building needed to be caulked and painted. The front glass would have to be removed and the spaces filled in with brick as well for the use I planned to make of it.

If this building were in a town with even average retail traffic, fifty K would be a steal. However it wasn't in an area with even average retail expectations. It was going to wind up falling under it's own weight if I didn't save it. The owner and I both knew it.

"Okay my main problem is the whole area is zoned by the county as retail I'm sure. If I can get an exemption, I will give $40,000. If not, it isn't worth anything to me," I said.

"You didn't have a problem putting that apartment over your shop," he said.

"True, but I don't need a second apartment," I said.

"How about letting me work on the zoning change. I know these people and it's in my own self interest to get it done quickly," the man doing business in blue jeans said.

"Go for it," I said. The farmer had said he would make his delivery in thirty days or so. If the Realtor couldn't make it work I would just buy an acre of land outside the zone and put up a storage building. It would be more trouble, but I was going to honor my agreement with the pot farmer.

I left the Realtor to it. Since it was getting late on Tuesday afternoon I needed to switch gears. It was my plan to leave early the next morning for Church Camp. I wasn't worried about the application for making pot tea. I just wanted it to happen quickly. Until I had the business, I had nothing on which to base a mortgage application. I needed that to show some bank to get a loan for operating expenses. I might not need a loan but better safe than sorry, I thought.

I waited until the evening to call Jeff. "Well hello Rita, I didn't think you were real. There is so much mystery around you. I can't find a digital footprint for you at all," he said.

"You know I'm real Jeff, you just don't know the real me," I said and forced a laugh. "The real me needs a favor, can you come visit before the weekend. I can come get you, if you need me."

"Can it be on the weekend?" he asked

"No, but I'm going to be on the road tomorrow. How about I plan to spend Thursday night at that motel where we met. Could you get Friday off or at least have a few hours to talk on Friday morning?" I asked.

"I can spend Thursday night with you there and follow you home," he said. "Or maybe go to the festival with you."

"Sorry, I'm going to be busy over the weekend. But we can be together Thursday night and talk business on Friday before I leave, if you want.

"Of course I do," he said.

"Then I will check into the Motel again under the name Rita Martin." I didn't need a driver's license for a room paid for with cash the last time I was there, so I didn't expect to need one on the current trip.

At 5 AM on Wednesday morning I rode the three speed bike out to the farmer's place, then turned and headed to the Dairy Queen. There I had a breakfast sandwich, before I headed back to the studio. The plan was to pack the truck for my trip to Church Camp, and the college town to meet with Jeff.

I drove almost directly past the small Georgia College town on the way to Church camp. I was on the road by 9 AM and arrived by 8 PM Wednesday. I discovered that one of the VIP cabins had been reserved for me, since I wasn't expected to drive home that same day. That was a good thing.

Andrew had planned the evening meeting for 9 PM so there was time for a ham sandwich made in the dining hall's kitchen. It was a DIY project and I didn't mind at all, since I was starved. A ham and cheese sandwich, with corn chips and a coke made a pretty good DIY meal.

I sat in the dining hall, which could seat at least two hundred if push came to shove, to eat my sandwich. It was a cavernous room when empty. Of the two men who entered, I recognized only the one with the cane.

"Andrew, I'm glad to see you," I said. "So who is your friend?"

"This is Hagar. Actually you two have met briefly," Andrew said.

"I should remember him then, but I'm afraid I don't," I replied.

"Last summer on the cruise. Hagar was part of the Swamp's security detail," Andrew said.

"I'm sorry about what happened," I said. I couldn't decide what to say. He must have had a friend or two who died that day.

"Actually I headed that detail. I was with the old man that day. I lost a lot of friends and almost my total security detail. Andrew's people all came home," he said. "All except you."

"I just missed the boat. I did get home," I said.

"You look very different. Somehow you seem more appealing. Maybe I mean more relaxed, but you are way too thin," he said. Obviously the man lacked filters. I liked that about him.

"I had a bad case of worms," I said then turned to Andrew. "Do you want to talk about my favor, or should I wait."

"Hagar insisted on being here for the meeting," Andrew said.

I turned my attention to the second man. "Really why is that?" I asked.

"I have some contacts which Andrew does not have. I might be able to help in a different way," Hagar said.

"I understood, that like me, you retired after that fiasco," I said not kindly at all.

"That is true, but I still have a marker or two out there floating around," he said sadly. He didn't seem angrily at all.

"Okay let's get to it. What do you need?" Andrew asked.

I outlined my business plan for them both. I didn't go into how I planned to make it happen. Just my need for the rails greased now and then.

"For instance at the moment I need a federal permit to buy raw pot and manufactured products with it. I want to make products that house wives and grannies will purchase," I said. "Something they can fool themselves and others with. Kind of like the old medicine show tonics back in the day."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Hagar said. "How about it Andrew? Do you know anyone who can get her a license?"

"I think I can arrange it rather quickly. It's a small favor to ask," Andrew said.

"Good," I replied. I didn't gush thank you nor did I act entitled. I treated it as a favor period.

"Now is that all for the moment?" Andrew asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"In that case let me buy you a drink," Hagar suggested.

"Is Hagar your code name or your real name?" I asked.

"My mom knew me as the French version of Buddy Baker," he said.

"Then I will be happy to share a drink with you," I replied. The liquor bottle had no label, so I figured it was homemade by some local mountain man. It was strong, but had a nice back taste of caramel applesauce. "That's good stuff," I said.

"Too sweet for me, but if you like it we will drink it," Buddy said. Andrew had one glass and left. After three drinks Buddy asked, "How bad was it?"

I knew exactly what he meant. "Bad enough to cure me of my need for excitement," I replied.

"I can only imagine," he said.

"I expect you can do more than imagine. You are one of the old time Legionaries," I suggested.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"You have a French accent and you walk like you have a board up your ass, although you still limp," I said. "Afghanistan?"

"Afghanistan, Chad, and a couple of other hell holes," he said. "I never lost a whole detail till that fucking cruise."

"To those no longer with us," I said lifting my glass.

"To the living, the dead, and the living dead," he said.

"Here here," I agreed.

It was midnight when we helped each other to the VIP cabin. We fell asleep in the same bed. We slept together, but not really together. I woke up and turned to see him beside me as the sound of a bugle drifted between the mountains.

Hung over or not I crawled from the bed and dressed for a morning run. A tight short sleeve thermal tee shirt and running shorts turned into my running outfit. I thought I was going to leave Buddy in bed, but he rushed to join me. We joined the others for their morning run.

Buddy ran along quite well considering he wore all the wrong clothes. I, on the other hand, fell far behind in my running togs. I might mention again here, that I hate to run. I arrived back in the compound out of breath and in pain. I had some back pain whenever I exercised. I ran the last mile in significant pain but then so did Buddy. He seemed to handle it better than me.