“You’re wondering about specifics. Well, we’re trying to help you get this enterprise off the ground, so we’re talking easy terms. Right off the bat, we’d start at one percent annually. Of course, once your business is established, we would probably renegotiate. We reserve that right, since it’s what allows us to fund no-collateral start-ups like yourself.”

Could this possibly be true?

The banker smiled. “So we’re agreed, right? Opioids it is. And once all the papers are signed, the t’s crossed and the i’s dotted, we’ll put you in touch with two suppliers, one from California, one from Utah. That should allow you to meet your demand, even if you’re able to expand your base beyond the bank’s current estimates. If all goes well, by this time next week you should be in business.”

Mr. Worthington held out his hand out across the desk. “Deal?”

Brian looked into the man’s eyes, trying to gauge whether he could trust him.

“Deal,” he said, shaking the banker’s hand.

4

Chet Yates walked into The First People’s Bank cap in hand. Well, not literally, maybe—his fading red MAGA hat was still pulled on tight, covering his bald spot—but certainly in a figurative sense. Upon opening the glass door and stepping inside, he glanced nervously around, trying to figure out who he needed to talk with about getting a loan. This was his last hope, and if things didn’t go well here today, it was podcast time, and who knew how much of his army would follow him online?

Who knew how many of his listeners even had internet access?

It was his own fault, really. Chet was well aware of the fact that his show had devolved into a nightly single-issue rant, but the sheriff had killed his brother, and there was no way he was going to let that slide. He might go down for it, but he would go down swinging.

He was looking for a sign that said Loans or Loan Department, but before he could pin down a location, a bank employee stepped up to him and asked, “May I help you?” Although wearing a white shirt and tie, he looked kind of like a mentally ill homeless guy who’d accosted Chet outside the station a couple of times.

That wasn’t possible, though.

Was it?

“I need to talk to someone about getting a loan,” Chet said.

The bank employee smiled, revealing several missing teeth.

It was.

“Follow me,” the man said.