Bernard Hefner
It’s been about three weeks since Richie passed away. That happened after one night he slammed some shit dosed with fent, which must’ve taken him for a fuckin’ ride before he vacated this world. I guess that’s how it went for all of ’em – or at least that’s what I heard. He probably would’ve ended up the same given the dose and it being his first time ’n all, so… yeah.
The day before he went, Richie called me after buying the stuff and got me all excited to give it a try. He talked about how it was the real shit this time. Called it ‘creme de la smack’ and said it was time to give it a whirl.
Now, the interesting thing – or maybe uninteresting thing about Richie – was that he was not normally connected when it came to drugs… or anything for that matter. Guy couldn’t score a hickey at a kissing booth, so I was surprised when he talked this up like he did. His usual dealer was this troglodyte named Buzz who was always in alleys off Atlantic slinging for customers.
To put it plainly: Buzz was only good for one of four things. That was either grass, glass, pills, and maybe, I dunno, cigarettes… I think he had some bootleg porn at one point or another if my memory serves me right. Regardless, the guy was a slimy, conniving little bastard. I personally had a list of reasons not to like him: his paranoia, his voice, the way he smelled – jeez – but the main reason was because he was constantly trying to pawn off his excess Percocets on me when money got tight. Not once in my life had I asked for it because of my family’s history, and I made sure I told him that each and every time he offered. But still, he persisted every day I stepped into his garage and sat down on one of those cracked buckets. The only reason I put up with the freak was, well – it’s obvious, isn’t it?
Funny enough, aside from the rigmarole, the main thing about Buzz that annoyed me was how Richie acted during our talks. He never made a fuss when he made his offers and it was mainly because he didn’t want to wreck anything in my defense. And I understood that. I truly did. But it still hurt me. I mean, you at least could’ve given the guy a ‘chill out’ or something to shut him up… c’mon Richie, I thought we were buds? He wasn’t offering you any Percs!
So when Richie called and said our relationship with Buzz was about to be far, far behind us a wonderful relief poured over me. A smile even found my colorless face and it only grew more when Richie went on about a more reliable plug he got on deck. Once he mumbled that, a happiness came like I hadn’t felt in God knows when. Looking back, I think it was because I was caught up in the joy of never seeing Buzz again that I didn’t question this new guy Richie found out of nowhere. All I knew was a more dependable connect was finally at our disposal, and with that understanding, it gave us all we needed. Don’t get me wrong, we were always inching our way toward it. But now that we had certainty, we thought, What’s a better time than now?
So, enough about Buzz.
After I got off the phone with Richie, I remember sitting at some gas station around the corner from my parents’ old house. It used to be a Chevron, but nowadays it’s an Arco. It might’ve even been a Mobil at one time or another if I’m thinking of the right one. Well, I’d just gotten done putting another gallon into my heap of rust and decided to walk into the shop to snag a coffee and a lighter. Slowly, ever so slowly, my brain granted my hands permission to hobble my cup together, and I waddled over to the counter. Medium coffee, dash ’o hazelnut cream, two sugars – don’t forget the sleeve – and one lighter.
After I got done, I made for the door… and it was at that moment I made eye contact with a woman dressed in a dark suit that hung like a shadow under the fluorescents. I was terrified of her. So much so that I couldn’t hold my chin up to maintain a steady gaze as I walked past and felt her stare clawing at the back of my head. As I reached for the door to make an escape, suddenly the woman called out with the softest voice.
“George?”
I froze halfway out the door. She spoke again.
“George, is that you?”