“What are you
talking about?” I said to her, my eyebrow still raised. She cocked her head
slightly sideways and narrowed her eyes, staring right into my eyes. I hate
when she gives me that look. She can always see right through me, like an x-ray.
“I could smell the smoke when you opened the door boy. Don’t try to bullshit
me.” She said, her head still cocked. I laughed nervously, and unlocked my
door, waving her inside. She walked in after flicking her cigarette out the
hallway window. I closed the door behind her, and locked it, looking at her. “Now, no
more bullshit sweetie. What did you do?” she asked me. I laughed nervously
again as I threw my jacket over the back of the couch and sat down. “Alright,
so I was over in the West Ward. Some house blew sky fucking high when I was in
the pub, cops said it was some kind of gangland attack.” I said casually,
stretching out. She sat down in the recliner, crossing her legs, staring at me
to continue. “Okay, you caught me. I did it.” I said, laughing as I fished a
cigarette from the pack. She narrowed her eyes at me again. “Why the hell did
you do that?” she asked sternly. “It wasn’t like I blew up a church or a bus of
old ladies or something doll, it was just Antonio and his goons. Poof, nothing
left.” I said, lighting the cigarette and taking a deep drag, exhaling into the
air above me. “Some cop got creamed by a burning roof beam when the fire department tried to hose it down, but that wasn’t my fault at all.” I said, laughing. “Where the fuck
did you even get the shit to do that? I saw the mushroom cloud from my apartment building.
I swear I felt the heat from it.” She said, pulling her own cigarettes from her
bag and lighting one with a flick of a match. “Where do you think doll? The
hammerheads down by the docks. They always have an assortment of anti-social
party favors for the fine denizens of Newark.” I grinned at her as I took
another drag on my cigarette. She sighed and shook her head at me. “You’re
something else. You know you smell like you were in the heart of a fire right?”
She crinkled her nose, taking another drag of her own cigarette. If you haven’t
figured it out, we both love to smoke. “You need a shower.” I grin and take a
final drag from my own cigarette, stubbing it out in the glass ashtray. “Yeah,
I know. Care to join me?” I say, standing up and waggling my eyebrows at her.
She smiled at me, but stayed seated. “I’ll pass honey. Go get yourself cleaned
up. You need something to eat too, by the looks of you. Go shower, I’ll make
something.”
I grin and
walk into the hallway, pulling my clothes off and tossing them into the basket.
She’s right, I do smell like a fire. Nothing a little Lava soap won’t take care
of. I glance into the mirror as I turn the water on. Running my hands over my
scalp, I realize I need a shave again. Damn hair grows too quickly. Ten minutes
of ice cold shower later I feel like a new man, and hopefully smell like one
too. Freshly scrubbed and shaven, I towel off and step into my bedroom pulling
fresh clothes from the closet. Black jeans, crisp white t-shirt. I pull my
boots back on and walk back into the living room to see Carla standing at the
stove, pouring something from a saucepan into a bowl. “What’s that?” I ask,
pulling a bottle of beer from the fridge next to her. “Soup.” She says simply,
handing it to me. I quickly drink it down interspersed with sips of beer. Not
bad. She was right, I do feel a lot better with something in my stomach
other than alcohol and drugs. Sometimes I forget to eat. It’s been happening a
lot lately. “So what now?” I ask, wiping my mouth after I take the last drink
of beer. “Now, you drive me home and you come back here and sleep.” I grin, and
grab my jacket. That’s fine with me. I’ll give her Ivan the Terrible another
day.
Ivan the Terrible is my cock, if you’ve forgotten.
I slam the
door shut and lock it as we step into the hallway. It smells like her perfume
up here still, but as we walk down the stairs the cabbage fart smell prevails
and it’s all we can smell. I’m pretty much used to it though. She isn’t,
evidenced by her gag as we step onto the sidewalk. I light another cigarette
and look across the city over to the West Ward. I can still see the smoke
hanging over the crater formerly known as Antonios trap house. Interesting.
“I’m not going to ask why you did it, but be fucking careful from now on, okay?
Antonio might be dead but if his gang finds out you’re responsible, you’re in
trouble.” She says to me as we walk down to the parking garage. “No problem
doll, I think I can handle a couple crackheads.” I laugh. I’m still laughing
when we walk into the parking deck. “Seriously, they’re just malnourished
crackheads, what kind of a challenge could they be? A pretzel rod has more
strength than three of them combined.” Carla laughed, and shook her head
slowly. “You say some of the craziest shit, I hope you know that.” I nod as I
unlock the truck and hop in, waiting for her to jump in. “Yeah, I may say some
crazy shit, but I must be doing something right, you’re still here aren’t you?”
She smiles as she clocks her seatbelt into place. “You’re a loyal customer and
dick me down pretty well, of course I’m gonna keep you around.” I laugh again
as I start the truck and pull out of the parking spot. I suppose I can’t argue
with that logic. Twenty minutes later she’s safely in her apartment, and I’m
pulling back into the parking deck.
As I lock my
truck and walk out of the parking garage, I realize that I am still utterly
wired. A few minutes later I throw open the heavy steel door to my building and
trudge up the worn-out stairwell, my heavy boots thumping almost rhythmically against
every step. I stand outside my apartment door for a second, and breathe in
deeply. At the bottom of the stairs the cabbage smell is king, but up here, it
still smells like her. I love that smell. I sigh, and unlock my apartment door,
stepping inside and slamming it shut, quickly ramming the two deadbolts home.
Home again, home again, jiggety jig…
I toss my
jacket onto the couch, and walk down the hall into my bedroom, turning on the
light at my desk. I let out a sigh as I sit down, and I can feel myself start
to come down. The first tendrils of exhaustion are starting to nip at my
muscles. Not tonight. I pull open the top drawer of my desk and out comes the
silver vial, a digital scale, and a small bag of empty yellow gelatin capsules.
Inside the silver vial are a few large shards of ice. In this context, ice
means extremely high purity Mexican methamphetamine from the laboratories of
the fine folk at We’ll Cut Your Fucking Head Off Cartel, Inc. I open the vial
and pour out the shards, selecting one that’s about half the size of a Tic-Tac. I
set the scale and place the shard on it, waiting a few moments for the scale to
figure the weight. 37mg according to the scale. I’m not a fan of snorting methamphetamine, as it fucking
hurts like shit. I’ve already had my nose turn into a blood faucet today, so no
thank you. I’m not of those sick fucks that stick the stuff up your ass, and
I’m not one for needles either, so that just leaves putting the shit into a capsule.
I wrap the shard inside a dollar bill and crush it with my Zippo until it’s
broken down into a very fine powder. Opening the capsule and forming the dollar
into a small funnel, I pour the now finely crushed methamphetamine in and seal
it up. I clean everything off and put everything back where it belongs and step
into the bathroom, taking a large drink of water from the faucet. I place the
capsule into my mouth and swallow it all with a satisfying smack of my lips.
Ah, sweet candy. I sit back down at my desk, and sigh loudly, staring out the
window onto the street below. I start to feel the effects about twenty minutes
later as I sit there, still staring down at the street. I couldn’t tell you why
the street was fascinating me so much, but maybe the combination of everything
today is making me paranoid. Fuck. What was that? I whip my head around, and
look behind me. There’s nothing there. I swear I saw a shadow in my peripheral
vision. God dammit, I don’t need any more shadow people today. I need to go for
a walk or something.
I look at the
digital clock on my nightstand. 2:30. I walk out of the bedroom and put my coat
back on and step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me and locking
it securely. With a sigh I start to descend the stairs, but stop halfway down.
I can feel something. On the very edge of my awareness, I can feel a presence.
Probably nothing. I cough and make it down to street level and out of the
cooked ass cabbage scent, into the car exhaust and sewage smell of the city.
There it is again. I look up and down the street, but I don’t see anyone. Just
a few cars on the street crossing mine two blocks up. I pull my coat closer and
begin my walk up the street, away from the parking garage. I pull out the pack
of cigarettes and fish one out, lighting it quickly with a flick of the Zippo. Almost out again. The nicotine calms me a little, but I’m still winding up on the edge of being
completely geeked. A police car makes the turn on my street and starts creeping
down. The windows are blacked out, but somehow, I know they’re staring at me. Keep calm kid, you’re fine. I take
another drag as the car rolls slowly past me, and turns the corner. Pigs would
just love to turn me into the East Coast Rodney King, I’m sure. I take another few drags and flick the
cigarette into the gutter and continue my walk down the block. The
Mex-amphetamine is starting to intensify everything. Colors are brighter,
everything is sharper. And I have the energy of a nuclear power plant going critical coursing
through my veins.
Keep cool, just keep
cool. You’re fine. Everything is fine.
