Ricky wiped his nose and looked down at the filthy dorm hall floor.

“I uh. I uh. I uh. Have a quick, easy way for you to make a lotta money. Fast,” Ricky said.

I couldn’t believe I was going to hear Ricky out.

“You know the old Richards House, up on the hill, outside of town?”

My mind started driving down that dark, unpaved road off the highway which led through wheat fields for a mile before it started to snake up a rolling hill towards the dead shell of the grand house.

“These guys from way up in Vancouver are using it as a heroin stash house, big, big stash house. Asian guys. Like gang members. They go pick it up and fly it up to Canada with a helicopter in the middle of the night once a week in the middle of the night on Sunday nights. It just sits there in the house, untouched till then. Me and a guy down in town, Chad Thompson, you might know him as Chode Thompson, from high school…well, he dropped out freshman year, but Chad…me and Chad are gonna go in there, take just a little bit. Like fifty grand worth, sell it to these guys over in Montana where the Asians don’t go and split the cash. I thought you could use the cash. You want in?”