Every single word written here is an extraordinary exaggeration of events that have played out in my head... based on the stories I have heard from people I have met in jail or while I was dealing with my own stupidity and carelessness, resulting from my own addiction to alcohol and drugs. This is in no way a glamorization of drug use, but a tool to lend some humanity to a subculture that has been demonized and written off as a hopeless and worthless part of our human family. I do not condone or promote any of the behavior or activities herein.
Rhonda avoided every main road available to us on our journey back
to the building she called home. The
apartment she lived in was situated on the top floor of a free-standing
building, which stood quite literally in the middle of nowhere. It was nearly dark by the time the building
appeared out of nowhere. As I let myself
out of Rhonda’s beat up Ford Sedan, I tried to make my bearings using the faint
glow from the lights of two towns in either direction. We appeared to be a couple miles outside of
Ft. Justice, Illinois (where I had owned a restaurant at one time) and probably
30 miles from the closest other city, just over the river in Indiana. It was getting darker by the minute, and
despite the looming ambience of Ft. Justice I could still see thousands of
stars in the sky over the building which Rhonda called home.
The ground
level of this cinder-block structure appeared to be the home of a pest-control
service. The large picture window at its
front was cracked from top to bottom, but I could faintly see the outlines of
desks and filing cabinets in the darkened room.
An ‘Exit’ sign was flickering in the darkness towards the back. I could hear coyotes starting to sing in the
distance, and the low omnipresent buzz of crickets and insects was beginning to
replace the annoying sound in my ears of the ancient, ill-maintained motor in
Rhonda’s beat up car.
I hadn’t had
much experience with Rhonda up until this point, and all I knew was that Bull
had told me I needed to trust her right now, at least until he contacted us
about what was happening with Dale and the cops out at the farm. This left me feeling uncomfortable on several
levels. The first being that I had no
cell phone of my own at the moment, with which Bull could contact me personally
and let me know one way or the other how things appeared. I would have to rely solely on this woman whom
I didn’t know very well to honestly relay messages via her phone between Bull
and myself. Secondly, I didn’t know this
woman very well, and I was currently the steward of an awful lot of Bull’s
dope. I wasn’t sure if Bull had told her
just how much of his dope was in my bolt, but I’m pretty sure that Rhonda knew
it must be significant if Bull had told me to bring it along on this trip off
the farm. Third, I was way out in the
middle of fucking nowhere with a meth head who had some knowledge of the idea
that I was carrying quite a bit of shit.
I guess all I could do was hope for the best… I mean, she did secure my
delivery off of the farm in the advent of a possible swarm of incoming law
enforcement. I owed her at least a
little trust.
Neither one of
us mentioned the bolt while we were climbing the wooden deck stairs to her
second story apartment. She unlocked the
deadbolt on the door to her place, and held the door for me to enter. I walked into the darkened kitchen of her
apartment and waited for the dull glow of the fluorescent shop-lights to
brighten so I could see my way through and into the living areas of her
home. She pushed past me and said, “C’mon
chickenshit… ain’t nothing gonna hurt you in my house… well, not much anyways.”
“I’m not
chicken… I just can’t fuckin’ see.”
Rhonda grabbed my arm, and I shook it loose. Her hand slid down and brushed the giant bolt
in my coat pocket and stopped. She
grabbed my pocket and shook it around a bit.
“Whatcha got
there, youngin’?” Rhonda laughed.
“Is that some
kinda weapon or brass knuckles? I’m
tellin’ ya, you don’t need ‘em. Bull
told me to take care of you, and that’s what we intend to do.” She relinquished her grip on the bolt in my
pocket, and laughed as she walked out of her kitchen and began turning on
smaller lamps in the sitting room. “C’mon
in here kiddo, you need to help me wake up the help.”
“Who’s here?” The voice came from a pile of blankets and
pillows on Rhonda’s huge sectional couch.
Rhonda was pulling pillows off of the lumpy pile, and tossing them onto another piece of furniture close by. I
stood back and watched as she slowly, pillow by pillow, uncovered a barely
dressed, tossed-looking young lady. When
Rhonda’s friend realized there was company of the male persuasion, she quickly
reached for a blanket and fumbled for her glasses.
“Well, hey
there stranger… who’re you?” she yawned and pushed her glasses onto her
nose. “More importantly, the question I
want to ask is… have you got any shit? I’ve
been sleeping for two and a half-days.”
“Rhonda… what’ve
you got to drink? I need to fucking
relax a little bit. Fuck…” I stammered, and looked pleadingly to my
host.
“Well, darlin’
the liquor cabinet is to the right of the fridge… soda and juice are in the
fridge. Help yourself.”
I turned about
face and marched into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to the right of the
fridge. I immediately saw something
fantastic and exactly what my brain was screaming for, a brilliant, unopened
1.75 of Absolut vodka. I grabbed the
bottle and twisted the cap, cracking the flimsy plastic shrink wrap. I put the bottle down on the stove and opened
the fridge to search for mixers… or most likely a chaser, as my intention was
to swill directly from the bottle. The
fridge was filled with Tupperware containers of leftover food, which didn’t
interest me at all... and a plethora of generic sodas and name brand beer. My day was beginning to look up. I grabbed a soda and stuffed a couple of
beers into my pockets. “Do you girls
need anything while I’m in here?” I
hollered.
“Soda’s would
be great!” the strange girl on the couch replied.
I opened the
bottle of vodka and drank deeply and chased it with a swill of lemon-lime soda
that had very little flavor. It stopped
the burning in my throat from the vodka, and that was all I had really hoped
for. My brain began to anticipate the
flood of endorphins and the happy alcohol buzz I had begun to ache for. I returned to the sitting room and my waiting
associates.
I set the sodas
down on a long, narrow coffee table in the center of the room, and sat down on
top of the pile of blankets and pillows that Rhonda had created on a nearby
sofa loveseat. It was surprisingly
comfortable. Rhonda and her friend just watched
me silently as I took a second pull from the large vodka bottle in my hands,
and smiled at them.
“Well, you
found what you wanted I see. Pass that
monstrosity over here young thing.” I
handed the bottle to Rhonda, who drank and passed it to her friend.
“Who’s this?” I
asked, pointing at her friend. The vodka
had already started to work, and I was beginning to feel a little more at ease
in my new surroundings.
“This is
Crystin… don’t get too close to her, as she hasn’t seen a clean, handsome man
in some time who hasn’t wanted to beat up on her, so she’ll probably make a
fool of herself.” Rhonda laughed, and
Crystin pulled a pillow up to her face and peered at me from behind it. She passed the bottle of vodka back to me
after drinking it, and swung the pillow at Rhonda when she sat back down.
“Shut your
mouth, hag…” Crystin folded her hands in her lap, and shyly looked over at me
and mumbled, “Hi there…”
“Hey
Crystin. I’m temporary here, and still
married, so don’t make a fool of yourself.
I’m sorry boys beat you up. We’re
not all like that.” I noticed a fading
shiner underneath her glasses, and she must have noticed that I did, because
she raised the pillow back to her face.
Rhonda
interrupted the uncomfortable exchange between Crystin and I. “So, tell me you brought some shit. Let’s get high, huh?”
“Sure, sure…
you gotta pipe?” I asked.
“Hell, there’s
foil and straws in the kitchen if you wanna smoke it, but Crystin and I get
down in other ways. You’re welcome to
join us… or you can make yourself a foil.”
Rhonda was watching me closely to see how I would respond.
“Well, what
exactly do you mean?” I asked.
“I’ve got clean
needles and a clean house. We don’t ask
any questions, and expect that nobody talks about what they do while they’re
here when they leave here.” Rhonda said
flatly.
“Nah, I don’t really
wanna bang no dope… you girls can, I don’t judge. I just haven’t crossed that bridge yet.” I
said reluctantly.
“No better
place to try it, I’d say…” Crystin said from behind her pillow.
“No… I guess
there wouldn’t be… but I’m okay for now.
I’ll just watch you guys and do my own thing for awhile.” I pulled on the vodka bottle and chased it
with the soda. I set both the bottle and
can on the coffee table, and reached into my pocket to retrieve my hollowed-out
bolt with Bull’s dope inside of it. “Rhonda,
I’m assuming Bull still wants me to treat this as business, so are you good for
whatever we use out of this stash?”
“Hell yes I’m
good for it, or he wouldn’t have told you to trust me, I reckon.” Rhonda sat forward on her couch to see what I
was doing. “What the hell is that
for? Intimidation?” She asked jokingly.
“Nah… check
this out. This is pretty neat.” I began unscrewing the large nut on the even
larger bolt to reveal the hollowed out end.
I tapped it several times on the table and several large bags of dope,
along with some tiny ones toppled out of the makeshift container. “How much do you think we’ll need?”
“Yeah… well…” Rhonda got up from her spot, and put both of
her hands over her mouth. “Yeah, um…
well… that oughta do it!” She walked
over to where I was sitting and leaned down to hug me. “God Bless you sweetie…” she kissed me on my
cheek, “let me go get my rig and something to pay you with.”
“I’m pretty
sure that’s the first time that somebody gave me God’s blessing for bringing
dope, but…um… yeah, cool. Get me some aluminum
foil too I guess… and a tooter!” I
laughed, and started putting most of the baggies of dope back into the bolt,
leaving the largest for us to play with.
Rhonda
disappeared into her bedroom and I heard the sound of her rummaging through her
things frantically. I looked over at
Crystin, who had dropped the pillow from her face and slid down the couch to
the closest spot she could without actually touching me. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the baggies
I was stuffing into the bolt. She was
smiling widely, exhibiting a fierce overbite, surprisingly absent of the gaps I
was used to seeing in bangers.
I closed the
bolt, leaving the bag we were going to use on the table. She reached over and touched the metal, as I
finished closing it.
“Can I see that
thing?” She asked shyly.
“Can I trust
you not to do anything dumb?” I replied.
“Well, no… but
I still wanna see it.”
“Sure thing… go
ahead.” I leaned back and grabbed the
bottle of vodka and my soda, watching her closely.
She picked up
the bolt, and unscrewed the nut, looking inside.
“In-fucking-genius…”
she breathed. “Did you make this?”
“Indeed, I did.”
“Well, you’re a
swell guy to know, aren’t ya?” She said and put the bolt back together and set
it down.
“We’ll see
about that, I guess.” I took a large drink from the Absolut, and this time didn't need to chase it with soda. Instead, I put the open can of soda next to the bag of dope and my bolt, and reached into my pocket for one of the now sweating cans of beer I had taken from fridge. I popped the top on the can, and sipped the flavorful, malty beer. I spun the lid onto the bottle of vodka, closing it tightly and placed it on the floor between my feet. I stared at Crystin who was still looking at the bolt I had brought, until she noticed me eyeballing her. She quickly set the bolt down, apologized shyly and hid behind the pillow again.
Rhonda returned
to the room we were in, and tossed several blister packs of pills and a ball of
crumpled up bills into my lap.
“Let me know
when we’ve gone through that much, and I’ll get more.” She said smiling. “Who wants to get high?” She opened a Versace eyeglasses case, and
procured a bag of new insulin syringes.
This work is the intellectual property of Jerome J. Panozzo
This work is the intellectual property of Jerome J. Panozzo
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