The news of the boxes has spread. People are wanting to buy them after seeing them at a friend’s house. They don’t even balk at the price. Emmet’s phone keeps ringing at all hours.
“Seriously!” Sam screeches one night when the phone rings at one in the morning. “Don’t they ever stop?! It’s not like you’re going to run out.”
“They think I will,” Emmet says after he’s answered the call and taken the details. “It’s not that bad.”
“Yes it fucking is,” Sam mutters. She turns the light on and looks at him. “I’m getting sick and tired of this shit Emmet. All you’re doing is selling these boxes.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Emmet says. “You were bitching the other day that I never follow through my ideas, that I just fuck them up. Well guess what? This time it’s actually working and I’m going legit.”
“Are you calling me a bitch?” Sam shrieks. “I don’t know how you dare.”
“I didn’t say you were a bitch,” Emmet says with a heavy sigh. “I said you were bitching. Moaning. Having a go. Don’t be so touchy.”
“Well if I’m touchy it’s your fault,” she says snottily. “I’m barely getting any sleep with all of those phone calls.”
“Well you know where the sofa is,” Emmet says, rolling over and going to sleep, “If you want to sleep go there. I’m going to keep getting these calls and I’m going to keep taking them. I’m making money, real actual money that doesn’t come from selling drugs. I’m doing what you always wanted me to do.”
“Bastard,” Sam snarls.
Emmet smirks but doesn’t say anything. She sits there in silence for a while, he can tell that she’s fuming without saying a word. He doesn’t say anything though; he lets himself drift off to sleep. When she sighs heavily, irritation obvious and throws herself back in to bed he smirks wider.
“Don’t forget the light dear.” He says.
She turns it off with a loud slam. He snuggles down deeper in to the covers.
The original 21 boxes are sold. Everyone wants them. Emmet has dropped them all off to their new owners and collected the cash. He always goes home between drop offs, even if they’re close together. He puts the money away somewhere safe and goes back out again. There’s no way that he’s leaving that money on himself. Damian and his thugs might come back. Or Chris with the same thugs. He’s not giving them the satisfaction of taking more money off him again. Not even Sam knows where the money is hidden. She keeps dropping hints of course, asking when they’re going to celebrate with a posh meal or something but he brushes the questions off and tells her to wait. She ends up shouting at him again when he says those things.
With each of the boxes that he drops off Emmet leaves a small piece of card with his number on for the customers to pass on to someone else. It’s how he’s managing to sell the other boxes. He drops off a box and goes to collect a deposit from someone else. It keeps going like that for the next two days. Box dropped off, money collected, deposit collected, box dropped off. Soon he has more than enough for everything, the money he owes Johnny and the shop rent. He calls Johnny to come and collect.
“You seriously got it all?” he asks in surprise over the phone, “The entire £1,450?”
“Yup,” Emmet says proudly. “I told you that I was good for it didn’t I?”
“Well… yeah…” Johnny says. “I just wasn’t expecting you to sell them this quickly.”
“What can I say?” Emmet says. “I’m just that good.”
“Cool,” Johnny says. “You want to order anymore?”
Emmet thinks for a moment.
“Nah,” he finds himself says. “It’s not my thing. Just come and get your money and bring the jewellery.”
“Seriously?” Johnny asks, “You don’t want any more? You’re selling them so well. I can cut you a deal.”
“Nah mate,” Emmet says. “I’ve got plans of my own. Just come get your money.”
“Alright, alright,” Johnny says with a laugh, “I’ll be there.”
When Johnny pulls up he’s grinning. He shakes his head and shakes Emmet’s hand.
“Can’t believe you sold all 50 in 2 days,” he says, following Emmet in to the house. “Well… here’s the jewellery.”
He puts the jewellery on to the kitchen table and looks at Emmet sternly, all trace of amusement gone.
“Now where’s my money?” he asks.
“Right here,” Emmet says, smiling.
He waves the notes around and then puts them in to Johnny’s outstretched hand. Johnny quickly counts through them and checks that they’re all real.
“Nice doing business with you,” he says once he’s done. “Now, are you sure I can’t hook you up with anymore?”
“No, I’m good,” Emmet says. “But I can tell you you’re undercharging for those things. I was selling them at £200 and people didn’t care. They still paid up.”
“£200 ay?” Johnny says in surprise. He rubs his chin, “I didn’t think they’d pay that much for them.”
“You just got to know your market.” Emmet says with a shrug and a smile. “I’ll put you in touch with a couple of people who wanted a box but I’d sold them all. You can see how that goes.”
“Thanks!” Johnny cries out. He reaches out and shakes Emmet’s hand. “Good luck mate. Good luck. If you ever need anything or want to sell some more let me know.”
“Will do,” Emmet says.
He sees Johnny out and collapses on to the sofa with a happy sigh. He’s done it. He’s really done it. Or at least he almost has. He just needs to get the shop now. It’s almost 5 and he needs to get to AHJ Lettings.
He wants to make a good impression this time though so he digs out the nicest suit he owns and puts it on. He goes to the door but when he opens it there’s someone already there.
“Terry?!” Emmet cries. “Where the fuck’ve you been?”