“The ones that help you survive my dear Paige.”
“That’s not a skill. It’s called a *.”
He laughs. “Not your * sweetheart. I’m talking about how you got your hands on all these IDs. There’s a lot of money in selling them because they’re too hard to counterfeit without the right machine.”
“So you want me to bag snatch for you?”
“I prefer to call it ‘acquiring stock’, but yes.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“Well, you’d be doing me a slight favour in helping me change career paths. In return, since you seem to be lacking a permanent place to stay, you’ll have the use of my couch, and we’ll split the money from the sales, fifty-fifty.”
“That seems a little unfair. I’m taking all the risk, and you’re getting all the gain.”
“Believe me sweetheart, there’s plenty of risk in what I’m doing. The guy I’ll sell them to is into a hell of a lot of shit, and if I get caught, I’ll be charged with more than just theft.”
Looking around the room, I take in my surroundings. It looks like we’re in a studio apartment. There’s one of those tri-fold room dividers separating a bed from the rest of the room, and a small kitchenette off to the side. The walls are a bare red brick, and the floors are a grey concrete with rugs dotted about the furniture. There’s only one door, so I assume there must be a communal bathroom somewhere.
Sleeping here and actually making some money would be a nice change of pace. All the men are starting to look the same, and I’m getting sick of having sex. I have no idea how prostitutes do it as an actual job.
“Alright. As long as I don’t have to sleep with you - it’s a deal.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I like my dick too much to put it in the likes of you.”
“Fuck you. I don’t have anything. I always use protection.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s ok. I’m joking. But you won’t have to worry. I don’t want sleep with you. I just want to make lots of money with you,” he grins. “Are you in?”
“Fine. I’m in,” I concede, with a roll of my eyes.
Clapping his hands together, he rises from his seat. “I think this new business venture of ours calls for a little celebration. Care to chase the dragon with me?”
“The what?”
“You can’t be serious. You don’t know what I’m talking about?” he says getting up and walking over to his kitchen.
“Never heard of it.”
“Well then, let me show you.”
He opens a draw and pulls out a roll of foil and tears pieces off. He folds them into neat rectangles and sets them aside. He then takes a baggie of small irregular shaped crystals and adds one to the end of each bit of foil.
“Is that ice?” I ask, wondering what he’s doing with it.
“Heroine,” he replies, pulling out a funnelled tube and a lighter.
As I watch him heat the foil, the crystal starts to smoke. Using the funnel, he breathes in the vapour like he’s inhaling from a bong.
“You try,” he says handing it to me.
I have a bit of trouble holding everything together, so he holds the lighter and the foil and I just hold the funnel. The burning crystal gives off a strange smell of chemicals mixed with caramel. It’s sickly sweet, but not terribly offensive.
Taking turns, we continue until the crystal is nothing more than a brown splodge on the foil.
It doesn’t take long before the buzz starts to affect me. Suddenly I’m deliriously happy, and the world is once again a wonderful place.
Moving over to the couch, we collapse down next to each other and just enjoy the high.
“You don’t even know my name,” he says to me.
“Yes I do. It’s a hard name to forget,” I tell him, my mouth moving sluggishly around the words.
“Braden,” he says in reply.
“I know. I told you I know.”
He finds this really funny and chuckles to himself.
I think that maybe I say something else, but I’m not sure that I do. My eyes open and close slowly. I’m just so… blissful.
Chapter Twenty-Four