ABSTRACT
The punching bag swung back, hitting against my chest after I threw the last and hardest punch. I could barely lift my arms and was almost dropping from exhaustion as the last of my breath escaped my aching lungs. The sweat poured from my head, and my eyes stung from the intense workout. I looked up in time to see Sylvan stepping out of his Cadillac and heading toward me. I was happy to see him but a little nervous about the huge man who seemed to be shadowing him like a bodyguard. It was good that Sylvan had driven the six hours to see me; that likely meant he had the cocaine that I was wanting to front from him. It was not so great that he wanted to emphasize what would happen if I did not pay him the money for the drugs. This was clearly why he had brought along the steroid king with the nine millimeter in his waistband.
