After the detective leaves, I say, ‘Good to see you’re alive, la’.’
‘Speak up, la’. I can’t hear properly. Them guns are totally loud.’
‘What the hell happened?’
‘The guy killed himself.’
‘That’s insane!’
‘I was up for days on crack and tweak, and he came over in the middle of the night with his bird looking for the Mexicans. I sent his bird over the street so she could get drugs. He stayed here. I see he’s got a gun. I told him there’s no guns in England and would he mind showing it me. He lets me hold it and I ask him to show me how to shoot it. He takes it back, says, “The safety’s on. This is how we do it in America.” He pulls the trigger, and it goes off – bam! It hits him in the head and he falls out the doorway. So he’s on my step with a chunk of his head blown off. Totally fucking dead.’
Wild Man has nightmares about the shooting and asks to be moved. I house him in an apartment in North Phoenix, but within days he puts the head of a roommate, a bouncer with long, curly blond hair, through a wall. Disappointed, I drive there.
Wild Man gets in my car. ‘All of us are getting evicted because of the fight. This Madison I live with is pretty cool. She’s moving in with her boyfriend in Tempe in some apartment complex and it’s got three bedrooms. She said her boyfriend’s behind on the rent, so, if you can fix the rent situation, I’ll be able to live there.’
An apartment will work out cheaper than a hotel. Tempe’s a college town. Can’t be much crack there. ‘I can stop the cheque I used to pay for this apartment and use that money to set you up in Tempe, so I won’t be out of pocket on this mess. But you’ve got to stop causing chaos. I’ve not got endless money for this, Peter.’
After Wild Man moves in, the complex turns into a big party every weekend. Students roam around smoking pot, drinking beer. Wild Man invites everyone he meets to party at his place. Acid Joey supplies us Ecstasy. So many people show up that Acid Joey can’t get enough Ecstasy for us to party on – something must be done.
Chapter 19
‘I can’t get you hundreds of X from local dealers,’ Acid Joey says in my office one evening after the boss has left. ‘They just don’t have that many, but I know where they’re getting them from.’
‘Where?’ I ask, eager to buy bulk.
‘LA.’
‘From who?’ asks Seth Clark, the stockbroker I’ve grown closest to since losing Matt. Nearly every day, we eat fish ’n’ chips and shoot pool at the George & Dragon. Almost twice my size, Seth appears to have no neck, but he has a soft-spoken way about him.
‘Sol, some surfer dude who throws raves.’
‘No way! I know him!’ I say.
‘You do?’ Seth says.
‘I’ll never forget that name. He’s a guy in Cali who talked shit to Kelly and I ended up grabbing his balls.’
‘What?’ Acid Joey says, squinting.
‘It’s a long story,’ I say. ‘We went to see Sven Väth play at some sushi house. We got invited to an after-party and Sol was there, off his head on meth, talking all kinds of shit to everyone. At first it was funny, but then he said something rude to Kelly and this other girl we were with, and Kelly said, “Get this asshole away from me. He’s getting on my nerves.” So, I’m like fuck it, I’m high and feeling just as crazy, so the next time he talked shit to the girls we were with, I grabbed his balls. I thought he would throw a punch, but he just stared at me as if he couldn’t believe it. I’ll never forget his massive fucked-up evil meth eyes. So, there’s just four of us from Phoenix versus this house full of LA people who we barely know, and Kelly pulls out her Derringer, points it at the ceiling and is like, “Fuck you, motherfuckers! LA can kiss my ass! We don’t care who you are!” I didn’t want us to get killed, so we took off in a hurry while they were stunned.’
‘If you and Sol are enemies, how’re we gonna bypass the local dealers?’ Seth asks.
‘Well, get this. Months later, I go to some other Cali rave to watch Moby and we run into Sol. He’s got a big entourage with him, and I’m thinking all hell’s going to break loose and I’m going to get beat up, but he comes over and shakes my hand. He says he was on meth last time he saw me, meth brings out the devil in him, and he apologised for insulting us. So, we made friends.’
‘What if we go out there and he tries to pull a fast one ’cause you grabbed his balls?’ Seth asks.
‘My gut tells me he won’t. But if you and Wild Man are with me, then what’s he going to do?’
‘He might have half of LA with him,’ Seth says.
‘What do you think, Joey?’ I ask.
‘If you want to step on the local dealers, you must go directly through Sol.’
‘I take it you have his number?’ I ask.
‘No, but I can get it.’
‘How much X should I buy and what should I pay?’ I ask.
‘If I buy fifty,’ Acid Joey says, ‘I get charged $20 each; for 100, $18. My dealer must be getting them from Sol for $15 or less. It’ll probably come down if you buy 500 to 1,000.’
‘One thousand!’ Seth says. ‘What are we going to do with a thousand?’
‘They’ll be gone in no time,’ I say. ‘Me, you and Wild Man are doing almost ten each on the weekends. But maybe I should just buy 500 in case he does try to rip me off.’
‘Plus, I can sell some for you,’ Acid Joey says, ‘and you can use that profit to offset what you eat.’
Excited by the prospect of a new business venture, I say, ‘If there was a stock I could buy at $15 and sell all day at $25, I’d be all over it. Making money off Ecstasy sounds easy. Let’s give it a try.’
‘There’s something else I want to ask you,’ Acid Joey says, his voice low, serious.
‘What?’
‘I’m gonna throw a rave and I need an investor.’
Has the door to throwing raves opened? The skin on my forearms tingles and I grow more excited – as if a prophecy is being fulfilled. ‘How much?’
‘Two thou to start, to get the flyers printed up.’
Something in his tone bothers me. ‘Have you got a business plan, Joey?’
‘No. I’m gonna throw it with some raver kid outta Texas. He’s got it all figured out.’
‘Where at?’
‘The Icehouse.’
‘Good location,’ Seth says.
Two thou is insignificant even if he loses it. Give him a chance. ‘When do you need the money by?’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘All right, I’ll give it you at the weekend. I trust you, Joey.’
Two carloads of us, including Wild Man’s cousin Hammy – here on holiday, finally reuniting the three of us for the first time since the days of the Thinking Tree – drive to Sol’s house in West Hollywood. Annoyingly, he isn’t home at the prearranged time. From a vantage point on a side street, we sit in our cars, waiting, our tension and frustration rising. Hours later, Sol shows up, carrying a surfboard.
‘I’ll go in now,’ I say to Wild Man. ‘If I’m not back out in fifteen minutes, come and rescue me.’
‘I’d like to wrap that fucking surfboard around his head,’ Wild Man says, ‘seeing as he’s kept us waiting this fucking long. Why don’t I just kick his door down and take his shit?’
‘That’s not good business,’ I say.
‘It’s not good business him keeping us waiting out here for two hours either!’
‘If you rob him, then who’re we going to go through?’ Turning to Hammy, I say, ‘Keep the Wild Man under control, would you?’
‘That’s like trying to keep a bull from a red rag,’ Hammy says. ‘I’ll do my best.’
I tell Seth and Acid Joey to stay put in Seth’s car, and I knock on Sol’s door.
‘Come in,’ Sol says.
‘I’ve been here a while.’ Entering his house, not knowing what I’m getting into, I brace for someone to jump out and rob me.
‘I lost track of time,’ he says with indifference
. ‘I have your 500 Mitsubishis. I’ll be right back.’ He goes into another room. Half-expecting him to reappear with a gun, I relax when he brings a Ziploc bag with more pills than I’ve ever seen.
‘How much MDMA’s in them?’ I ask, feasting my eyes on the quantity.
‘One hundred and twenty-five milligrams. From Holland. I don’t sell any Made-in-America bunk. Besides, I’m told you can afford a lot more than 500. I’m sick of Arizona ravers coming to my house and buying 100 here and there. I’d rather sell bulk to one person. It’d be safer for all of us. And the product will be good, like these.’
‘Can I taste one?’ I ask.
‘Taste one?’
‘I always chew them. They have a distinct taste,’ I say, studying his face, rugged and tanned.
‘Want a chaser?’
‘Water, please.’
I unzip the bag and examine a pill. More dirty white than beige. Speckled like a bird’s egg. A press of three diamonds: the Mitsubishi logo. Chewing it, I recognise the sharp chemical taste of MDMA.
‘I can’t believe you chew those things.’
‘It’s a good pill. Here’s seven gees. If you want me to buy more, I expect a much better price next time.’
‘I’ll count the bills while you count the pills.’
Chapter 20
At Phoenix airport, Kelly’s appearance stuns my parents.
‘You have such a pretty face, with cheekbones to die for,’ Mum says.
‘Exotic looking. Just like a model,’ Dad says.
‘I just love those silver bangles,’ Mum says.
‘I can see where Shaun gets his kindness from,’ Kelly says, beaming.
‘And at least we can have a proper conversation with Kelly,’ Mum says, referring to Sumiko.
‘You haven’t seen the bite mark yet,’ I say, pointing at a permanent scar left by Sumiko’s teeth on my arm.
‘Oh my God!’ Mum says. ‘We had no idea she was that crazy!’
‘That’s one hell of a scar,’ Dad says. ‘She must have been really hungry.’
‘Had she run out of kimchi?’ Mum asks.
We laugh.
‘Have you heard from her?’ Mum asks.
‘Not since the divorce went through.’
My parents settle into my home, oblivious to my drug activity, convinced the strange hours I keep are due to stockbroking.
In the living room one evening, I put a movie on. Halfway through, there’s a knock on the door. I pause the video, walk to the peephole and see a group of unfamiliar faces, staring angrily. Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum goes my heart.
Oh shit. Something’s going down. Not now with my parents here! How can I shield them from this? ‘It’s OK. I’m going to have to talk to these people. Keep the movie going.’ As my parents refocus on the TV, I rush to a closet where I store a shotgun purchased for home protection. Pointing the gun down, trembling, I open the door. ‘What do you want?’
Noticing the weapon, they step back.
‘We’re looking for Acid Joey,’ says a man with long hair, beady eyes and a pockmarked face.
‘You’ve come to the wrong place. Acid Joey doesn’t live here,’ I say, hoping they’ll leave.
‘He owes us money,’ he says, his tone insistent. ‘We know he comes here.’
Raising my voice, I say, ‘I don’t know how you know he comes here, but he owes me money, too. Two thousand dollars I gave him for a party, which he hasn’t been able to pay back.’
‘He took money off us to take to San Fran for LSD and we haven’t heard from him since.’
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ I say. ‘Look, I can’t help you. I’ve got visitors here right now. Please don’t come back.’ I slam the door in their faces and watch them slink away.
My parents are gazing at the shotgun. Oh shit! They’re going to figure out I’m drug dealing!
‘Oh my God!’ Mum says.
‘What the hell’s going on, Shaun?’ Dad asks.
‘Just some kids looking for a friend of mine,’ I say. ‘I don’t know who they are and you can’t take any chances in America. They could have been robbers with guns. That’s why I took the shotgun. I really didn’t need it. It’s all resolved now and they left without a problem.’
My parents remain alarmed. They don’t mention the incident again, so I assume they believe my explanation. Attempting to assuage their stress and alleviate my guilt, I arrange for them to stay at the Red Rock Lodge in Sedona for a weekend. The rest of their trip goes smoothly and the incident seems forgotten.
Chapter 21
Two college girls – Ecstasy first-timers – are sharing a bubble bath in Wild Man’s tub, half-Spanish Emily rubbing Kimberly’s freckly-pale shoulders, no one bothering them.
In Wild Man’s bedroom, people are all over the carpet as if a yoga class is in progress. I find a space and assume corpse pose. I smile at Wild Man on the bed, grinning contentedly, his eyebrows relaxed, bobbing his head, rocking his big frame to the beat of a Markus Schulz trance mix on the radio – Sugar daddy, set me free, Sugar daddy, come for me … – as if warming up to dance.
‘Where did you meet Kimberly at, Wild Man?’ I ask.
‘At 7-Eleven tonight. She’d lost her cat and her boyfriend, so I said, “Things could be worse,” and invited her over.’
The window rattling attracts our attention. A figure in black leaps through the frame. ‘Everyone’s loving the X. I’ve got $2,000 for the 100 you gave me. Can I get 100 more?’
‘Acid Joey!’ I say. ‘Welcome to our little E party. Go take a look in the bathroom.’
‘What’s in there?’ he asks, frowning.
‘Just go look, Joey,’ Wild Man says.
The happy Buddha sat cross-legged against the wall, called Seth, chimes in with, ‘You’ll like it.’
Acid Joey doesn’t walk like most humans. Above nimble footsteps, his mass moves smoothly, effortlessly, cartoon-like. He opens the bathroom door. ‘Wow!’ he says, his eyes widening.
‘Who’re you?’ Kimberly asks.
‘It’s Acid Joey,’ Wild Man says.
‘His dancing is legendary,’ Seth says.
‘Would you like to get in the tub with us?’ Emily asks.
‘Er … not right now,’ Acid Joey says coyly.
‘They only just met!’ I say.
‘That’s how good this X is,’ Seth says.
‘I’ve never felt this good before in my entire life,’ Emily says.
‘Can I have another Mitsu, Shaun? I’ll pay for one this time,’ Kimberly says.
‘Not yet. You’re high enough. Let it coast. I’ll take care of you when you start to come down.’
Acid Joey glides back into the bedroom. ‘Shaun, can you front me another 100?’
‘I only brought enough for us to party on. Stay and party with us, Joey. I’ll give you ten for free if you stay here and take them all with us tonight.’
‘That’s tempting. Er, OK.’
Word travels fast about the pills. All kinds show up. Ravers. Street-gang members. Native American transsexuals. Drug dealers. Stockbrokers. Students. Russian mobsters. Exotic dancers. Each room packs with people on Ecstasy, talking as if they’ve known each other forever. Hugging me, they lavish praise on my pills. Basking in the attention – the most I’ve ever had in my life – I feel like a rock star. This is way more fun than stockbroking.
A couple arrive: Chantelle, a petite mixed-race dancer, her light-brown skin covered in scars from S&M; her boyfriend, Todd, a bouncer, wearing a black SECURITY T-shirt, drunk, loud, not on the same wavelength as the rest of us. Todd demands free Ecstasy from Acid Joey, who looks at me for help.
I turn to Wild Man, whose cocked eyebrow means he’s formulating a way of handling the situation, and nothing more needs to be said. He smiles at Acid Joey as if to say he’s been waiting all night for something like this to happen. Wild Man rises off the bed and yells, ‘Watch this!’ With a Taser traded by a student for Ecstasy, Wild Man electroshocks his arm.
The crackling draws everyone’s attention. ‘Anyone want to Taser me?’ he asks, staring at Chantelle, challenging her.
‘I will!’ Chantelle snatches the Taser. The whites of her eyes widen as she shocks Wild Man’s arm.
Todd, no longer bothering Acid Joey, watches with a smug, proud air.
Wild Man giggles as if his toes are getting tickled. ‘Thank you. It’s orgasmic.’
Chantelle stops the Taser and ogles the damage: a darkening section of skin giving off a smell likely to upset vegetarians. Her lips quiver.
‘How on earth can you enjoy that?’ I ask, shaking my head.
‘It makes my muscles spasm really quick. It’s a nice feeling when you’re high. I like the uncontrollable pain after the Taser’s been on my body for at least a minute.’
‘You’re demented!’ I say.
‘That’s nothing.’ Chantelle leans towards Wild Man and whispers so Todd can’t hear, ‘How about you Taser my pussy?’
‘I will,’ Wild Man says.
‘Are you serious?’ I ask.
‘Hell, yeah, I’m fucking serious!’ Chantelle says.
‘What about him?’ I ask, nodding at her boyfriend, who’s harassing Acid Joey again.
‘Go and tell him to make you spaghetti Bolognese,’ Wild Man says.
In a husky voice, Chantelle issues the command. Todd swaggers off. We listen to him banging pots and pans around and barking orders at students to locate things such as the can opener.
I close the door. ‘Listen up, everyone! Wild Man’s going to Taser Chantelle’s vagina, and she wants us all to watch.’
The room hushes. Looks of disbelief are exchanged.
Chantelle juts her chin and furrows her brow, squashing the scepticism. Exuding pride as if performing the grand finale at a circus, she squats. She raises her skirt: no underwear. Wild Man presses the button and the Taser buzzes like a cicada. He admires the tiny blue bolts of electricity. Chantelle places her left hand at the top of her womanhood, stretches the skin back and nods at Wild Man. He brings the Taser down. We gasp as the bolts dance up and down her vulva. She doesn’t flinch. We shriek and shake for her. Worried about Todd returning, I wonder how long she’ll last. Chantelle moans, sways, flutters her eyelashes, presses her eyes shut, springs them open wider and shuts them again, running through a repertoire of theatrical expressions. After a minute or so, Wild Man stops the Taser. Chantelle opens her eyes and stares as if returning from another world. She smiles.
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