Clare took a deep breath and tried not to slide down her chair as if her bones had been removed. She knew it was possible to get shit cases in a rural county law firm, but she never imagined a literal shit case. The idea of falling face first into that slurry, as they politely call it, did no favors to her stomach.
“I’ll take you to the case room. The lagoon manufacturer just produced their documents the other day, and I’m putting you in charge of the review. Jo will help you cull them, but their relevance and attorney privilege status will be left to you to decide. Obviously, we’re most interested in finding any evidence they sent the product recall to Peterson.”
Elizabeth led her into a room about twice the size of her office. It was lined with worktables against all the walls, with a larger worktable in the middle. At least a dozen boxes were stacked on the center table and the room smelled musty with old files. Reading documents was about as boring as it gets for a lawyer. How would she ever be able to do it without speed? Jo sat at the table with a stack of documents in front of her. Elizabeth introduced them.
“We met out front,” Clare said. She turned to Jo. “Looks like I’m on the document review team with you.”
Jo smiled weakly. “Great.” She turned her head back to her documents.
Elizabeth didn’t seem to notice Jo’s rudeness. “Jo will show you how we process the documents.”
“Would it be okay if I spend some time going through your file before starting in on the document production? I want to fully understand what I’m looking for.” Clare needed the cover that reading a file could provide. She couldn’t stand the idea of spending the rest of the day with Jo, not in her condition.
“Of course. Let’s get it from my office.” Clare retrieved the file and hurried to her own office. The first thing she did after sitting down was call Casey. She didn’t dare close her door on her first day, so she spoke sotto voce when he came on the line. “I need to see you tonight.”
Casey snorted. “So much for your new country life. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. I want to get a bit of a supply from you to transition. Changing everything at once was foolish.”
“Do you mean you quit?”
“I threw all those pills away.”
“You should have returned them. I would have given you a refund. Why did you go cold turkey?”
“Because I’m stupid. I feel like crap. Turns out you’re not supposed to go off Valium all at once.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Clare could hear a slight whine in her own voice. Pathetic.
“Not my place. But I can’t meet you this evening,” Casey said.
Real panic washed through her. “Not even for a minute? I’ll be quick.”
“Not until midnight. I should be home by then.”
“Done. I’ll see you tonight.”
She disconnected and tossed her phone onto her desktop. Chicago was three hours away, so she’d leave at eight and get there early. She poured a cup of coffee in her new Nelson & Nelson mug and resigned herself to reading the file and taking notes until the end of the day. Elizabeth told her during her interview her firm’s hours were eight thirty to five, and no one expected her to stay later unless it was something that couldn’t wait. She wouldn’t try to make an impression by staying late tonight. She didn’t think she physically could.
Chapter Six
Clare left the office at five o’clock on the third day of her new job. She could have worked much longer. In fact, she wished she could work longer, but the culture of the firm discouraged it. You were meant to go live your life. The problem was, Clare didn’t yet have a life in Money Creek. Since coming back from her late-night trip to Chicago, she’d spent her evenings at home going mental from boredom. She’d gotten about a week’s worth of speed and a fistful of Valium from Casey, but drugs alone couldn’t entertain her night after night. She was lonely. She’d also gotten the worst news she’d had in years—Casey was moving out of state, almost immediately, which accounted for his dwindling inventory.
“How can you do this to me?” Clare had asked, holding him by the upper arm as if she could keep him in place.
He gently removed her hand and continued to count out pills. “I’m not doing anything to you. I’m going to Seattle to be with my boyfriend.” Clare noticed the moving boxes stacked in the corner.
“What boyfriend? This is the first I’ve heard of him.”
He looked at her with something like pity on his face. “I’m not sure where you got the impression we tell each other everything. I’m your dealer, not your girlfriend.”
That hurt. She thought they were close friends and she did tell him everything, though there’d never been much to tell. In Chicago, she’d worked, visited her family on occasion, saw a few friends now and then, and slept. “Give me as much as you can, then. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”
“I thought you were quitting?”
“I am. But the Valium has a very long taper down period. I looked it up. Same with speed. But where am I going to find a dealer in Money Creek?”
Casey laughed. “I can’t believe you’re living in a place called Money Creek. Aren’t there a ton of meth dealers down there?”
“I told you what I think about meth. It’s evil.”
He poured the last of the pills into a ziplock bag and handed it over. “Is there a college nearby?”
“There’s Money Creek College.”
“That’s where you’ll find your speed and if you’re lucky, some Valium. Rural areas are big on the oxy, and meth, of course.”
Clare was desperate. What was she supposed to do? Saunter onto campus and ask the first student she saw whether he had any drugs? Impossible. It was deeply humbling to put herself through something like that because she needed drugs. She vowed to taper off completely and be done with it. She stared at her stash and saw her days of supply were numbered. Her online order of Valium wouldn’t arrive for a few weeks. It had to travel from India, somehow make it through customs, and be delivered by the letter carrier. And it was usually terrible quality. She had enough speed to last until the middle of the following week. As she changed clothes she resigned herself to what she had to do. Desperate measures. She’d go to the campus and get the lay of the land. Maybe something would fall into her lap. If she were to quit, it would have to be through a planned approach. She couldn’t repeat that first day of work.
She used her phone’s map function and headed to the college in her used Subaru Outback, trying to get a feel for where things were in relation to each other. The streets were all residential and one looked much like the other. Money Creek College suddenly appeared on her left as she climbed a small incline. The row of houses on the street were abruptly interrupted by five Georgian style buildings sitting on an enormous snow covered front lawn. The bright sun made it almost painful to look at. The buildings looked relatively new, almost shiny. Everything was crisp and clean. Students wearing down coats crisscrossed between buildings and it looked like a recruitment video. There were two mid-rise brick buildings that she guessed were dormitories. It was the smallest campus she’d ever seen. She parked in the lot across the street and walked along the buildings until she found the student union. Dressed in jeans, a light blue button-down shirt, Frye boots, and her North Face down jacket, she hoped to blend in.
The large room she entered was bright and airy, sun pouring down from a series of skylights. There were several seating areas with tables, others with sofas and chairs. Students took up every seat and she saw right away they were different from the students she was familiar with in the city. They were alarmingly clean-cut. The boys wore button-down shirts and khaki pants, their hair neatly cut, their demeanor more like glee club than hipster indifference. Many of the girls wore skirts and they were all primly made up. Clare wondered if she’d wandered into a Christian college. Students in Chicago seemed scruffy in comparison. The bookstor
e was off to one side and she walked straight to it. Bookstores made her feel comfortable, and it was likely she’d figure out the religious tenor of the place by what they sold. She found the usual displays of mugs, bumper stickers, shot glasses, and sweatshirts all emblazoned with the college’s name. The book stacks were filled with academic texts, but there were no sections devoted to devotion. No bible rack, or Christian fiction, whatever that was. Perhaps the students were dressed exactly the way small town private college students dress. She sure as hell wouldn’t be approaching any of them about where to find drugs on campus.
Opposite to the bookstore was the entrance to a café, a Starbucks-sized room with a counter selling coffee, pastries, and sandwiches. There were more well-behaved students at the tables, many of them studying. She took her coffee to an empty seat in the back of the café and worried. She was down to her last twenty-five Adderall tablets, and she often took several a day. Something needed to happen.
After twenty minutes of sipping coffee and fiddling with her phone, she looked up to see a young man sit at the next table, facing her. He looked like the man of her dreams—a stubbled beard, hair tied in a top knot, a black T-shirt with the name of a band she’d never heard of, black shit kicker boots and black jeans. He was tall and lanky, and though his long skinny arms didn’t have trace marks on them, she clearly caught the scent of a drug user. He took out his phone and typed a text with blazing thumb speed and then put it down and picked up his coffee. As he took a sip he looked at her, catching her staring at him. He gave her a sly smile that made a worm turn in her stomach. He was going to make this sexual from the first instant. She could see him appraising her.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” She felt ridiculous.
He shifted in his seat, leaning toward her. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you a professor?”
Jesus. Did she look that old? She needed to get back to nightly moisturizing. And who says “Hey” to a professor? Only the supremely confident. “No. Not a professor. I’m just visiting campus.”
He took another sip. “Would you like a tour? My apartment’s right off campus.”
She looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding with that, right?”
He looked amused. “Kidding? No. I can show you around and we can have a beer at my place.”
Appalled or not, she saw an opening and was desperate enough to take it. She paused for a moment as if thinking about it. “Maybe. But what if I want something other than a beer?”
A smile spread across his face. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He looked very young for a brief moment before resuming his laid-back, entitled expression.
“For the record, sex is not what I’m talking about. I don’t even know your name, for God’s sake. What I meant is whether you had something other than beer to offer.”
He looked disappointed but interested. “The name’s Evan. What did you have in mind?”
“What do you have?”
He leaned in closer. “I think some weed. Let’s go.”
Clare didn’t move. “Let me ask you this. Do you know of anyone I can talk to about getting some other product?”
He leaned back in his chair and gave her a quizzical look. “Man, I would not expect these words to come out of your mouth. You don’t have the right vibe.”
“I’m not a druggie,” she said impatiently. “I have some specific needs and I’m looking to make a connection here in town. Can you help me?”
He paused to consider. “It depends on what you give me in return.” He had the slightly uncomfortable look of someone who thought he might have pushed things too far.
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying that yes, you do have a name for me but no, you won’t make the connection unless I have sex with you?”
His sly smile returned. “I wouldn’t want to put it that way, but yes.”
She sighed. Loudly. Could she do this? She thought of her short supply, of Casey’s move, of what her physical condition was when she’s been without pills for a day. She’d wriggle out of it somehow. Job one was to get in front of a dealer.
“Okay. But before we go anywhere I want you to call your guy and see what he’s got. If I’m not buying what he has, I sure as hell am not sleeping with you.”
“Sure. If those are your terms.” He looked resigned.
“These are not treaty negotiations. If you’re going to insist I sleep with you first, I want to make sure you deliver.”
“Let me call him.” Evan picked up his phone and after a moment said, “Hey. I’ve got a woman here who’s interested in what you might have. Can you tell me what’s in stock?” A moment of silence and then “Sure. Got it. We’ll be over in a few.” He put his phone back on the table.
“What did he say?” Clare said.
“He doesn’t want to talk specifics on the phone. He said to bring you over.”
“Over where?”
“To my place. We’re roommates.”
They walked three blocks from campus to the first-floor apartment of an old Victorian frame house. It needed a coat of paint, and some of the shutters were cockeyed. She noticed a few more houses like it and figured it was where off-campus student housing was located. She followed Evan inside and immediately smelled marijuana in the air. A young man sat in the living room, watching something on British television. She heard the plumy accents through surround sound speakers. When he saw them, he snubbed out the joint and clicked off the TV. He wore a heathered gray Henley shirt, new black jeans, and clogs, which gave her pause. His dark curly hair was cut short, his face was cleanly shaven, and he wore an expensive watch. He seemed more like a software designer than a college student.
Clare prayed she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Something about him made her uneasy, perhaps the disarming smile he gave her as he approached. But she was backed into a corner. Taking the risk with a new dealer rather than face being strung out was ultimately an easy decision. He offered his hand.
“I’m Henry. Welcome.”
She warily shook. “I’m Clare.”
“Follow me. We’ll talk in the kitchen.” The kitchen was right off the living room. She expected the kind of mess her own college kitchen was always in, but it was sparkling clean. Henry pointed to a round breakfast table. “Would you like a coffee? Beer?”
Clare looked around the room. A Nespresso machine sat on a counter with a carousel of coffee pods next to it. Tempting. But her nerves cried out for alcohol. “I’ll take a beer, thanks.”
Evan excused himself, winking at Clare as he went out. Did he expect her to look for him after this tête-à-tête and fulfill her end of the bargain? He’d be waiting a long time. Henry put an IPA in front of her and took a drink of his own, appraising her.
“Evan sort of broke the rules by calling me out of the blue to bring a stranger over. Normally we only let in people we know.”
“If you’re worried about me being a narc, you shouldn’t.”
“No, you don’t look like you could be undercover. You’re kind of old, for one thing.”
Christ. It seemed the price she had to pay for getting some product was to feel ancient. “I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for some speed and any kind of downer you have. I’ve got cash with me.”
He stared at her as if she’d just laughed at a funeral. “That’s not the way it’s going to work. We’re going to relax and get to know each other first.” He put his beer down and spread his hands flat on the table.
Clare sighed. “Sure. Ask me whatever you’d like”
“Tell me where you live in Money Creek and who you know.”
“That’s easy. I live on Oak near downtown and I don’t know anyone. I just moved to town.”
“Are you working?” Henry said.
“Yes.” Clare shifted in her chair.
“Then you know the people at your workplace. Where would that be?”
“I’m a lawyer at Nelson & Nelson,” she said.
&n
bsp; Henry took another drink. “I know the place. I’m trying to figure out why a clean-cut lawyer from the best firm in town is in my kitchen asking for drugs.”
Clare stared at him. “Are you asking why I do drugs? Is this a counseling session?”
Henry smiled. “I’m cautious, Clare, which benefits you, too. I don’t think you’d want news to leak that the new lawyer at Nelson & Nelson was a drug addict.”
“I’m not a drug addict,” Clare said, putting her beer down hard. “Why would you even think that?”
“If you weren’t I don’t think you’d put yourself in this situation. It’s too dangerous. What if we blab all over campus that a pretty lawyer from Nelson & Nelson was trying to score drugs at the college. What if I told Nelson & Nelson?”
“Why would you do any of that? It doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“I don’t know you. Maybe you’ll tell people about me. Think of it as insurance that you’ll keep your mouth shut.” She considered the increased vulnerability in buying and selling drugs in a very small town. It was information that could be used as a weapon, as Henry seemed to want to do. But she didn’t care. The worry over being exposed paled against the worry of not having any drugs at all.
“I’m not an addict,” Clare insisted. But Henry stayed quiet. She filled the silence. “You go ahead and think what you’d like. Now, can we talk sales here? I’d like to be on my way.”
Henry looked satisfied. “Good. You’re looking for speed, which is a staple of my business, as you can imagine on a college campus. Even the appallingly straight students at Money Creek want to cram at exam time. But I’m afraid I don’t have any in stock. We’re expecting some next week.” Her face fell in disappointment. “I have some in my personal stash I can give you. It’ll keep you going until the shipment comes in.”
“How much are you talking about?”
“Around ten tablets. I hardly touch the stuff,” he said.
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