by Meg Ripley
They shoved us into the back of the van and I had a moment or two to think about where the hell the cops could possibly be. Were they tailing us? Were they going to follow us to this meeting I was supposed to have with Big J and do the bust there? Mary crouched across the van from me, the women who’d snatched her out of the bathroom on either side of her, and even though her demeanor was a little bit scared and submissive, one look at her downturned face told me she hadn’t given up yet. Nick was totally right about her, I thought. I’m fucking gone on this one.
“I swear to god,” I told the guys watching us in the back of the van as we pulled away from the curb, “If one of you assholes lays a hand on her, I’m going to find a fucking way to kill you as slowly as possible.” One of the dealers laughed.
“How long have you been without? I’d have thought you’d be offering us our choice of hole just for a little bump.”
“Is it true you were in rehab?” Reggie asked me.
“The band put me there; the label, too. Said I was getting too wild.”
“Stealing from the man, that’s pretty fucking wild all right.”
“I didn’t steal from him; why the hell would I do that? I’d just bought enough for the whole week.”
“Maybe you wanted more than you were entitled to. Maybe you just saw it out and couldn’t resist.” Reggie shrugged. “It’s not my job to figure out why you’d do something. The boss says to pick North up, so we pick you up.”
“It was someone else—if you bring me to J and he kills me, whoever actually did it is just going to steal from him again.”
“Not really my problem. I do what I’m told; I get paid. That’s all I care about.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course. There was not really a whole lot of honor in any person who’d become a dealer, at least not a relatively big time dealer like Reggie was. The average guy who sold the extra weed he grew when he had enough for himself was one thing, but anyone involved in coke, meth, or E was a different kind of person altogether.
“You get around to fucking her yet, or you two just meet?” Reggie’s friend gestured to Mary.
“None of your fucking business,” I said. The guy laughed.
“Oh, he got around to it, all right,” one of the women said, joining in the laughs. Mary looked up from her lap and even in the dark confines at the back of the van, her gaze hit me like a punch to the gut.
“You guys do realize that you’re fucking with a social worker, right?” Mary looked at Reggie and the other dealer in charge of the operation. “I’m admitted to testify in court. If you ever wanted a fucking character witness in your goddamned idiotic lives, you’d want someone like me.”
“Yeah? You’d testify for me?” Reggie smirked.
“Well not the way things stand right now,” Mary said tartly, and I snorted—I couldn’t help myself. “But we could make a deal.”
“No deals,” the other dealer said, shaking his head.
Reggie held up a hand. “I want to hear what the bitch has to say. Go on.”
“I know people who are involved in drug court,” Mary pointed out. “I can make recommendations for folks who should be sent to a diversion program or those who should serve actual time. If you’re half as smart as you think you are, you probably never carry enough at a time to be nabbed with possession with intent to sell.”
“You got a brain,” Reggie said.
What the hell is she trying to do? I looked at Mary, but she wouldn’t even spare me a glance.
“So as long as you’re not getting nabbed by a plainclothes, then I could get you sent into the drug court. No regular trial means no record, means you’re clean and able to sell that much longer.”
“I’ll think about it,” Reggie said, gesturing with a hand, “but it depends how much Big J wants you to come with your boy here. Money now is bigger than maybe jail later, you feel me?” Mary shrugged and glanced at me. I had no idea what she was trying to do; was she just trying to get herself out of this? Was she trying to drive a wedge? I looked into her big, dark eyes and I couldn’t fathom what that beautiful crazy bitch had in mind. I wished she would give me some kind of sign so I could play along.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Of course, even in the middle of the night, the traffic in Miami was impossible. Mary and I were both silent as the van made its way out of the city proper, and I racked my brain trying to think of how we could get ourselves out of what was about to happen—just in case the fucking cops had set us up. Obviously, I couldn’t use my phone; the minute I went to take it out, Reggie or someone else in the van would just snatch it away from me, and even if they didn’t, I wouldn’t exactly be able to call Nick or Jules and ask them how things were going in their particular locations.
I thought long and hard about what had come about to bring me to this particular situation. Fucking ‘How Did We Get Here’ all over again. I could have almost laughed. I was in this situation because some asshole had stolen Big J’s stash, and I was a convenient fucking scapegoat. I was in this situation because screwing around with Mary had gotten us both kicked out of Recovery Now, and I’d had to do something to get the heat off of me. I was in this situation because I’d been too stupid to take the previous situation—the one in Germany, the time I’d almost OD’d—seriously enough to actually stop using.
“You look nervous, bro,” Reggie said, watching me intently.
“Well, look at it from my fucking point of view,” I said calmly. “I’m probably about to be beaten to death, if I remember Big J’s interests correctly. My girl here is probably going to meet the same fate. Not exactly something that fills a motherfucker with joyful anticipation.”
Reggie laughed. “Want a bump? I have a sample. Might make it a bit easier.”
I raised an eyebrow. It had been more than two weeks since I’d had anything in my system; no E, no pot, no coke, not even any alcohol. I bit into the inner surface of my lip, glancing at Mary. I knew what she’d want me to do, but I heard a dozen conflicting arguments in my brain all at once. If I took a bump, it’d put Reggie at ease. If I took a bump, I’d be betraying Mary’s trust. If I took a bump I’d be setting back my ‘recovery’—which as little as I really wanted it even still, I’d committed to at least a little bit. If I took a bump, I’d be playing into Reggie’s hands. If I took a bump, it might calm my nerves a bit, so I could think a little better.
“I’ll do it if Mary does one,” I said finally. I looked across the car at the woman I’d begrudgingly come to respect over the past couple of weeks. Mary’s eyes widened.
“A little powder courage?” Reggie produced a little bag of white powder—coke. Big J’s product was always worth the price, and Reggie sold direct from Big J. Mary glanced from me to Reggie and then back to me. I willed her to take it; I willed her to refuse. If she took it, I would have to. I wanted it, but I didn’t want it, all at once. “You ever do coke before?” Mary shook her head.
“Aww a coke virgin. Make her take it! Make her take it Reggie, it’ll be great.” I glanced at one of the tough women who had control of Mary and I wondered just what they were getting out of the idea of having Mary do a bump of coke.
“First taste is always free, and you’ve got the friends and family deal on top,” Reggie said. “May as well try it, you only regret the shit you didn’t do in life.”
Mary chuckled softly. “Okay, fine,” she said, glancing at me. I could see the worry in her dark eyes. “I’ll do a line.”
Reggie called up to the front for the driver to smooth it out a bit, and the other dealer brought out a mirror. I watched, practically salivating, as Reggie and the other dealer dumped the powder onto the glass and started separating it out into a couple of tiny lines, cutting it up. I shuddered; the ritual was so familiar to me. I could feel my body already gearing up for the high, already tightening down. I knew that if I took the bump, I’d be quicker, I’d be able to think more clearly; but I also knew that Mary was going down with me. I hated myself for making he
r make that choice. I hated the fact that I might be dragging her down into my need instead of letting her pull me out of the hole. Fuck it. Both of us might die by the end of the night anyway. She might as well get a little thrill out of it.
Mary took the rolled-up twenty that one of the women offered her and got onto her knees in front of Reggie’s lap, where the blow was perfectly lined up. I watched her in fascination and disgust; it seemed to me like she was deliberately making it look as much as possible as if she was about to go down on Reg. I gritted my teeth. This wasn’t part of the plan, but I couldn’t exactly do anything about it now; I had opened myself up for it. I had made it happen.
I heard the little snort of Mary inhaling the line, the sniff of her drawing it deeper into her sinuses. She shivered and turned to look at me. “Your turn,” Mary said, tilting her head back slightly and breathing in once more. I took the rolled-up bill from her and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. If I was going to die tonight—and unless the cops came through, that was the high fucking probability—I was at least going to go out with a buzz.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I was jittering and fidgeting just a little bit by the time the van came to a final stop; I couldn’t tell how long it had been exactly, but I thought it must have been at least thirty minutes, if not an hour, after we’d left Vagabond. Of course, knowing that didn’t give me much of an idea; everything in South Florida is either thirty minutes away or three hours away, and there’s almost no reason for it. Reggie and the others in the car hopped out as soon as the van shut off, and I hoped against hope that the fucking cops that had put Mary and me out on the limb were somewhere close. Come on now, guys, I thought as Reggie and the other dealer dragged me out of the back of the van. Any time now. For her sake if not for mine. Let me fucking twist in the wind if you have to, but get Mary the hell out of here.
Looking around, I thought we were probably out in the sticks; it was probably one of Big J’s safe houses, assuming that it was Big J that we were actually about to meet. If the cops were in the area, they were really well hidden. I looked over at Mary as the dealers and their women led us towards the little, run-down looking house.
“You okay, babe?”
Mary turned to look at me and I could see that the coke was really starting to take effect. I almost groaned as I realized that Big J probably set Reggie up to give us that little bump; it wasn’t out of the goodness of Reggie’s heart—it was to make us chatty, amped up, ready to say too much and convict ourselves.
“I’m all right,” Mary said quietly. I was surprised at how well she was handling the whole situation—fucking shocked, to be honest. My appreciation for Mary’s ability to hold together in spite of crazy circumstances grew, and I thought that if she and I made it out of the situation alive and more or less in one piece, I would buy her all the flowers I could get my hands on. I would shower that fucking woman with all the treats and treasures she could stand as long as she would stay with me. Dear God, if you exist, get us out of this shit hole alive and I will go clean starting tomorrow morning, I swear. Just let us get out of this. Let Mary get out of this.
Someone inside the house opened the door and I saw Mary cringe as our escorts pushed us through. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I’d been in a dozen houses exactly like this one so many times, I would probably have puked; it smelled like vomit, decay, mildew, and dirt. In the corner of my eye, I was pretty sure I saw an enormous palmetto bug skittering along the wall without a shred of fear of the humans in the room.
“Welcome, North,” Big J said from a dark corner of the room. My eyes adjusted to the gloom and I looked over in the direction I’d heard his voice coming from. Big J was—of course—big. He was an inch or two taller than me, and probably a good hundred and fifty pounds heavier easily; maybe more like two hundred pounds heavier. His skin was a reddish-brown russet color, the result of a mix of ethnicities I had never asked too many questions about and now never would.
“I’m not feeling the love,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Come on, guys. Someone bust in. Someone say something incredibly fucking incriminating; do something. “What’s all this shit about hauling up a civvie for a problem you’ve got with me?” I pointed to Mary. “She’s not part of this.”
“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Big J said with a philosophical shrug. “She your life coach, or your lay?”
“Both,” Mary said. In spite of myself, I snorted at the fact that she didn’t sound the least bit intimidated. “Though I’d prefer girlfriend if we’re going to stand on courtesy with this bullshit.” The whole room went silent; I don’t think anyone was used to someone talking to Big J like that—calm, unhurried. Plenty of junkies had yelled at him, plenty of junkies had cried to him; I didn’t think very many people at all had had the balls to speak calmly and firmly to the man.
“You got something of mine,” Big J said, looking at me. His voice cut through the silence and I heard people starting to move around again.
“Not me,” I said with a shrug. “I only ever had what I paid for, and what I paid for is gone.”
“What kind of bullshit do you think I’m buying, North?” Big J shook his head. “You ought to know better by now.”
“I’m telling the truth,” I said, spreading my ink-marked hands wide. “I don’t have your shit. I never had any more of your shit than what I bought.”
“So, you tell me who does, then,” Big J said. “Or I’m thinking the only fair trade is for me to take something of yours.” He glanced at Mary. Motherfucker, if you even raise a hand to gesture at her I’ll find a way to end you.
“I don’t know who stole from you,” I said. “Could’ve been Little C. Could’ve been Jamie Price. How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
“You were there,” Reggie said from behind me.
“So were you,” I pointed out. “I don’t see you running to tell the boss you know for sure it was me or you saw it.”
“I was counting bills,” Reggie said.
“Yeah, and I was getting ready to find a quiet place to use.”
“So you say.”
“Both of you shut the fuck up. Now.” Big J stood slowly from the chair he was in, gathering up his momentum, and my heart started to pound. “We can settle this. Ladies, I need you to leave the room.” Big J’s gaze fell on Mary. “Not you, though.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As if the call to clear the room was a signal, the whole place suddenly lit up—from outside. I heard shouts, and in a matter of mere moments, black-uniformed figures wearing helmets and brandishing huge fucking guns began to pour into the living room from both ends of the house. Everyone hit the floor except for Big J—who was reaching for his own weapon, shouting to his dealers to put up or get the fuck out. There was a crack, a hiss, and the air around me suddenly burned. I lurched forward as a billowing fog filled the room.
I had to find Mary. She was the only person in this whole situation that was completely innocent; she didn’t deserve any of this. I heard coughing, sputtering, choking sounds and moved towards them, not even certain I knew who it was, not even sure I wasn’t walking right towards a loaded gun. Somehow even though my nose and throat were on fire, even though my eyes were streaming, and the air was thick with what I suddenly realized was tear gas, I managed to find Mary; she’d dropped to the floor, and I joined her there, reaching out to grab for her hand. At first—even blinder than me—she flailed, shrieking and kicking out to get away from me. “Mary! Baby, it’s me. It’s me.” She grabbed at my hand and we both sank down more fully onto the ground as the whole world lit up around us.
Crack-tat-tat-boom! Shots split the air and roared in my ears, and I knew that there was no point in even trying to cover them. I shifted as close to Mary as I possibly could in the chaos, wrapping my arm around her. There was no point in saying anything to her; she was just as deaf as I was, and the shots continued to whiz by us along with shouts from all corners of the room.
It fel
t like hours; but later I found out that it was only a couple of minutes before the police cleared the room. Agonizing minutes where I was sure I was going to suffocate on the tear gas, or that I was going to get shot—or even worse, that Mary would be. In spite of how short the time was, there was still plenty of opportunity for me to think about the fact that I had used in front of her; that I had let her get into this mess with me, and that I had—so selfishly—put Mary in the position to use coke for the first time like the fucking coward I was.
Someone shook me and just like Mary had when I found her, I flailed, punching out at whoever it was. “Hey—hey, it’s the police,” I heard through the ringing in my ears.
“North, it’s them,” Mary said; she had to be shouting. She was just as deaf as I was.
“We’ve got you, man. We’ve got you. Calm down.” Gradually, I did. Someone was pouring something into my eyes and some of the burning began to recede; someone attached some kind of mask to my nose and mouth and the agony in my sinuses and my throat began to abate. My eyes still felt as though someone had scoured them with sandpaper, but I could see.
“Fuck,” I said, croaking the word. “Remind me never to get tear gassed again.” Someone laughed; I didn’t know who.
“You’ll be all right tomorrow.” Someone was lifting me up and I saw that Mary was on her feet as well, her eyes bloodshot, her face red and irritated.
“You okay, hon?”
Mary’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Not really, but I’m alive.” I reached out and pulled her close to me, and before I even thought about anything, I was kissing her, holding her body pressed against mine as if for life itself. The cops gave us a few moments, and then I felt someone pulling me away from behind.
“We’ve got a few questions for you two, but you can come in tomorrow for your official statement,” one of the cops was saying.