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I didn’t even say good-bye, just slammed
the door and went to check the mailbox.
I figured I’d better keep checking
it until my report card arrived.
It wasn’t there. But something a whole lot
better was—two letters from Citibank.
Inside one was Mom’s new credit card.
Inside the other was a PIN.
I Did Think Twice
about using that Visa, maybe
even three or four times.
But it was just so easy, like fate
had mailed it directly to me.
Mom wouldn’t miss it for weeks.
And then I would deny ever
having laid eyes on the thing.
Robyn gave me a ride to meet
Roberto. He didn’t look near
as scary as he really was.
The buy was a piece of cake.
Except for one thing.
Roberto wouldn’t deal less than
half-ounce quantities. That much,
straight from the source, was relatively
cheap. And Visa paid for it.
I didn’t need it all, of course.
The plan was to sell some,
so my own stash would be free.
Every dealer thinks that until
their nose gets busy.
