by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 77
I had my chance, but it wasn’t until several months later, back home and back at private school in Manhattan. Things were going just fine for me until one of our housemaids found a joint in my jeans and promptly showed it to mother. The hot spanking I got was bad enough; my reduced allowance prohibited me from buying pot was worse. I still had my credit cards, but that wasn’t much help in the weed department.
I was bumming weed from friends at my fancy Manhattan private school, but I soon realized I was losing friends. Finally, I saved up a few dollars to buy part of an ounce.
I had to wait a good half hour before the dealer showed up who was located on upper Broadway. It wasn’t like you could make an appointment. So it was a bit trying for a pretty fifteen year old standing on the street corner pretending she was doing her homework. I remember trying to read some book about the Constitution and convincing no one.
My other problem was that I had to meet the family for my brother’s birthday later so to save time I went dressed up. Nothing fancy, just a nice blue stripped shirt and Armani navy slacks and pumps. At fifteen it was alright to wear them in my Manhattan preppie crowd. I pony tailed my hair and wore some light wrist jewelry. The slacks fitted great. I loved the way they accentuated a woman’s legs, especially if she was as hot a fifteen year old, but I always tried to maintain a proper and respectable presence in the way I walked and carried myself.
Since I wasn’t too far from Morningside Heights, which is upper Broadway, I didn’t think I was over dressed for the neighborhood. Maybe my shirt seemed a bit tight, but my tits are big. A large shirt only looks sloppy.
After what seemed like an eternity I finally saw the dealer cross the street. He didn’t give a damn that traffic was flowing; he just sauntered across Broadway from the east side to the west side like he was going from his kitchen to the living room, assuming he had either.
Foolishly I waved. I felt dumb with my girlie wave; as if I were waving to some pretty preppie I was meeting at ballet class. He caught my eye, but it was the way that I was dressed and looked, being a dreamboat white girl, that really interested him. I knew he didn’t recognize me.
Generally I went up with guys I knew and had let them deal with him. But my allowance cutback had now changed all that. I took several steps towards him. He nodded his head for me to turn around and ignore him.
I remembered the routine. I stayed put until he turned the corner, then followed. I caught him down the next block turning into a building. When I entered there was no one there. Did he go up, down, or into one of the ground floor apartments? I had no idea. I usually waited outside and let the guys buy the dope.
A Puerto Rican girl, not more than seventeen, came out of a door with a baby carriage. She said, “The fuck you doin’ here?” Then she faked a smile like she had suddenly remembered. “Need your shit, huh?” And went out the door swaying her big butt as if to erase me out of the building.
“You gonna stand there all day?” I turned around. At the foot of the stairs was the dealer. He went on up and disappeared. I felt like disappearing, too. This was not exactly Park Avenue and I felt afraid, as if the walls had eyes, and maybe groping hands, too.
Nevertheless, I desperately wanted to get high, so I went up the stairs. Not quickly, but quietly, so I wouldn’t be heard. At the foot of the next landing I saw a door open. I tip toed towards it, knocked, which caused someone to laugh. “Yeah, come in.” The giggling went on.
But it stopped as soon as I entered and changed to a low whistle. The dealer and his boys looked over the preppie white girl. They liked what they saw. He then sent them out. When the room was cleared he looked up, “The fuck you afraid of?”
I was trembling. Not heavily, but enough. “You can talk, can’t you?” “Yes.” “Good. Shut the door behind you.” I did. “What’s your need?” I quietly said, “Pot.” He said, “It’s one fifty today.” “All I want is a quarter of an ounce. It’s all I can afford. My allowance has been cut for six months.” I shouldn’t have said that, let him know my situation.
“Call up Daddy. Ask him to give you more.” I didn’t think he was funny. “I don’t have more.” He looked at me as if I were the size of a postage stamp. I said, ” Look, I came all the way up here.” I showed him the money. “You think this is K-Mart?”
I looked at my watch. I still had time before I had to meet my family at Le Perigord, Midtown. I tried again, “It’s all I have. I’d appreciate it if you just sold a quarter.” “wouldn’t.” There was a long silence that I couldn’t see the end of.