“Well, it’s wasteful,” he said. “But it was so cheap over there. They grew the opium in those countries and it was cheap. You get a real muzzy high that way, smoking skag in a cigarette. I was stoned that way when I got the news that my mother died. Her pressure was always high, you know, and she had a stroke and died. I wasn’t nodding or anything but I was high from a skag joint and I got the news and I didn’t feel anything, you know? And when it wore off and I was straight again I still didn’t feel anything. First time I felt it was this afternoon, sitting there listening to some hired preacher reading Ralph Waldo Emerson over a dead whore.” He straightened up and looked at me. “I sat there and wanted to cry for my mama,” he said, “but I didn’t. I don’t guess I’ll ever cry for her.”

He broke the mood by getting us both more coffee. When he came back he said, “I don’t know why I pick you to tell things to. Like with a shrink, I suppose. You took my money and now you have to listen.”

“All part of the service. How did you decide to be a pimp?”

“How did a nice boy like me get into a business like this?” He chuckled, then stopped and thought for a moment. “I had this friend,” he said. “A white boy from Oak Park, Illinois. That’s outside of Chicago.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“I had this act for him, that I was from the ghetto, that I’d done it all, you know? Then he got killed. It was stupid, we weren’t near the line, he got drunk and a jeep ran over him. But he was dead and I wasn’t telling those stories anymore, and my mama was dead and I knew when I got home I wasn’t going back to college.”

He walked over to the window. “And I had this girl over there,” he said, his back to me. “Little bit of a thing, and I’d go over to her place and smoke skag and lay around. I’d give her money, and, you know, I found out she was taking my money and giving it to her boyfriend, and here I was having fantasies of marrying this woman, bringing her back Stateside. I wouldn’t have done it, but I was thinking about it, and then I found out she wasn’t but a whore. I don’t know why I ever thought she was anything else, but a man’ll do that, you know.

“I thought about killing her, but shit, I didn’t want to do that. I wasn’t even that angry. What I did, I stopped smoking, I stopped drinking, I stopped all kinds of getting high.”

“Just like that?”