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“Hey, Mom. My car’s on the
road again. I thought I’d
drop by this afternoon. Uh,
maybe around three?”
I’m meeting Grady at five,
Brendan a half hour later.
That should give me plenty of
time to reconnect with my baby.
Brad weighs out an ounce
into eight balls. I’m not exactly
sure how much they’ll want,
or how much they can pay.
He is rightly concerned.
Promise you’ll be extra careful.
An ounce is trafficking—
definitely heavy jail time.
“Hey, no worries. I’ll drive
like an old woman. The last
thing I want is to get popped.
I’m too busy to spend time in jail.”
Brad walks me to my car,
looks right and left before
bending down to kiss me.
Call if you’ll be late, okay?
I’m going to worry until
you get home. He’d probably
worry a lot more if he knew
just who I’d lined up to score.
The Roads Are Dry
The car’s running great, and I feel no
