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have said “customer.”
Old friend, huh? Like
a real good friend?
Trey’s eyes are glazed.
He’s wired out of his skull.
“No, not that kind of
friend. What’s wrong
with you? And how
come you’re fucked up?”
I’m fucked up? Heh-heh.
Guess I am. While you
were getting high with an
old friend, hey, so was I.
Grady looks more than
slightly uncomfortable
as things heat up. “I don’t
suppose her name was Angela?”
Damn, you are psychic.
Poor Brad has no idea
she’s using again. He stops,
waits for my response.
It isn’t verbal. Before
he can possibly react,
I’m across the room, in
his face, slapping. He puts
up his arm, moves into
me, and now we’re on
the floor. As we roll
around, I notice the pipe
and its contents have
