“Why are you asking me? That’s obnoxious,” the guy said. He had a southern accent.
“Look. I don’t have time to fuck around. Some homeless guy told us there was a pack of asshole street people with asshole dogs who hang around St. Mark’s Place that give out tips in exchange for money.” Alice put her hands on her hips and got close to his face. “I don’t know you. I don’t know if that homeless guy was full of shit. I’m appealing to the human side of your grubby ass. Might you know of a smack house off Fourteenth Street called the nest?”
Divot Ears called over his friend, a doe-eyed girl who didn’t look a day over fifteen. She had a lime-green bruise under her eye and a puppy squirming in an open Whole Foods reusable bag.
“Hi, puppy.” Alice smiled at the puppy. The girl eyed us.
“This chick is looking for a smack house off Fourteenth called the nest.” Divot Guy laughed and they all started laughing. “She says she’ll give us money.”
“How much?”
“Wait a second,” Jean said. “Like we’re going to hand you cash so you can make up addresses. Do we look like damn fools?”
The girl laughed. “Yes.”
“Fair enough,” Jean said. “But if you want money, you need to take us there.”
It was all so bizarre, like a scene from a badly written play.
“How much are you offering?” the girl said. “Fourteenth is a long street.” She was clearly the ringleader of the skittish group. It appeared that beneath the grime and the metal face accessories and overuse of army prints, their gang was as mismatched as ours. “You know the dealers eat kids like you,” she said matter-of-factly. “They’ll stuff you into a meat grinder and eat you on a bun with aioli and pickles.” I could tell by the way she talked that the girl was raised refined. She reminded me of Izzy.
“We’ll take our chances,” Alice said, sounding impatient to see if this weak lead took off.
They moved in a pack, with their collared dogs and duffel bags. We followed behind like awkward first graders boarding the big-kid bus. I tried to make small talk with a girl who clearly wanted nothing to do with my Taylor Swift T-shirt ass.
“Kind bar?” I offered.
“Whatever,” she huffed. But she took the Kind bar.
The alleged smack house off Fourteenth was a run-down apartment building with black residue thick like tar streaking the once-white walls around the barred first-floor windows. The gang of urchins led us past the building quickly, then turned the corner.
“I don’t want anybody seeing us with you,” the ringleader girl said, staring at me. “These people have Uzis and shit.”
I did not like the sound of that. The shrink’s trap house had been scary enough, and that was just a bunch of trash bags and needles on a pizza box. I wanted to turn around, walk back to Gordie’s, and permanently abort the mission. I was getting more uneasy by the minute with the situation we had gotten ourselves into.
“Where’s the money?” Divot Ears held out his hand.
We all looked at Gordie. I had my bank card and an old MetroCard with one ride left.
“I can’t believe we’re paying these people to take us to a smack house,” Jean whispered to Val and me. We hung back while Alice and Gordie negotiated.
“I’ve got twenty-three bucks,” Gordie said.
“I want fifty bucks,” Ringleader said.
“Or what?” Alice said.
“Or Evan will hit you with his nunchucks.”
Evan was five seven and about ninety pounds.
“What if I just buy all you guys pizza on my credit card?” Gordie said. It was slightly amusing that I was standing in the middle of New York City with Gordie Harris, who was negotiating with street kids to get them to play neighborhood smack-house tour guides. Shay would die laughing.
“Do you have any clue how many idiot Good Samaritans give us half-eaten pizzas? I want sushi. The good kind.” The girl knew what she wanted.
“And soba noodles,” some other guy chimed in.
We ordered the sushi and soba noodles and stood around in Union Square with our street thug acquaintances near the chess players and the Hare Krishna people, who had not moved since before we took our naps. The humidity was brutal, even after the sun set over the noisy, sticky city. My feet throbbed to the beat of the chanting and the flute sounds. Blisters had formed where my flip-flop straps hit my toes.
“What in Jesus’s name have we gotten ourselves into?” Val whispered. “My mother will have my ass. You don’t understand. She will beat me with a broom if she finds out I’m hanging out with street people. This is just wrong.”
“Hey, Kardashian chick,” Divot Guy called to me. I couldn’t tell if he was going to hit me or hit on me, but I went anyway. “The nest is a very screwed-up situation. Get your friend and get the hell out.”
“What kind of situation?”
“I’m not even going to go there.”
I almost said You seem like a nice kid. Come with us. My dad is an ice cream man. He’ll help you, but I didn’t. I knew I couldn’t help any of them, any more than I could help baby Ella, who, it occurred to me, could easily become one of these street kids someday.
Gordie came back with two huge bags of Japanese takeout. Our tour guides grabbed the bags and walked away.
“Geez, they could have at least said thank you,” Gordie said loudly in their direction.
We strolled past the nest building. A stick-figure woman with mottled skin—white as glue—and hair that looked like she cut it all off herself smoked a cigarette on the front stoop.
We loitered on the corner until Alice finally took the lead.
“I’m going up to the door. You all hang out here.”
“Hell no,” Gordie said. “We are not going to have a repeat of last time. We’re all going.”
Alice pulled on her hair and stomped her boot. “Listen, you guys need to let me do this. Just stand near the door.”
We stood near the door like a bunch of parents waiting for their kid to trick-or-treat.
Alice buzzed. She buzzed again.
“What?” a man’s voice said.
“I’m here to get Izzy.”
“Fuck you. She’s not coming out.”
“Fuck you. Yes she is.” Superhero Alice was back.
Nobody moved.
Alice buzzed again. She held down the buzzer.
“I will shoot you in the fucking head,” the guy screamed through the intercom.
“Send out Izzy.”
“Izzy owes me forty-five hundred dollars. Bring me forty-five hundred dollars and you can have her.”
Alice stormed away and we all followed.
Back at our spot around the corner, I said, “Alice, this is insane. These people have Uzis.” My heart was beating so hard I felt it in my stomach.
“Alice, I have some money saved. I can take it out.” I couldn’t believe Val was offering money.
Alice made a WTF face. “No, Val. Just… no.”
We stared at our shoes. We watched a cab whiz by. Finally, Gordie said, “I’ll get the damn money.”
“God. No. We’re not negotiating with terrorists. Let me think.” Alice’s face was flushed. Her hands were balled up at her sides.