Chapters (95)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by David Swinson
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
I need a boost, so I grab my prescription-pill container out of my left pants pocket. It has fifty capsules that I packed tightly with cocaine. Two capsules make for a nice line—or, in this case, pile. I twist one of the capsules open and squeeze the powder out of each half onto the back of my hand. After I look around, let a couple pedestrians pass, I take a snort, twist the capsules back together, and repeat the process. Light a cigarette after.
It’ll never be like the first time, but the initial wave is still nice. Also takes more than it used to, mostly when I’m home alone.
The sunset isn’t so sudden during the summer months. It just softens into nighttime. This area is well lit, too: large office buildings, restaurants, and retail stores.
I notice Jeffrey. It’s just after nine. Right on schedule. Not like working some of the street ops from back in the day. Can’t depend on those drug boys worth shit. At least he’s reliable. He’s wearing designer jeans and a stylish black slim-cut sport coat over a gray V-neck T-shirt.
Fucking kid. What happened to you?
Fuckin’ me. What the hell am I doing? Just go tell Aunt Linda and leave it, maybe have a talk with him after. In my mind he’s still just a small round-faced boy.
I watch him enter, then I give myself another bump and exit the car. I flick my cigarette to the gutter, put my suit jacket on to conceal my sidearm, straighten it out so it falls nicely over my shirt collar, then make my way to the front entrance.
Two
Two
An older cop in a cheap suit is working the door tonight. He greets me with an upward tilt of his head. I don’t know him. He’s not one of the regulars who work this part-time gig. He’s a big man, mid- to late fifties, but I wouldn’t ever fuck with him. He looks like he hits the gym almost every day.
The music’s loud, though not as uncomfortably loud as it’ll get when the DJ hits the mixing board with that techno-electronic shit and scratches vinyl on his turntables. Scratch vinyl? Good God. I should be long gone by then.
Jeffrey’s standing at the bar nursing a beer. Everyone seems well dressed. Trendy. Black leather booths set in darker areas for those special moments. The area around the bar is backlit against gold to highlight the liquor bottles on the shelves. Two bartenders working—one male and one female. She’s wearing a bra like it’s an eighties fashion statement.