Opening the zipper, he took out a packet, a spoon, a small burner, and a set of matches. Placing the powder in the spoon, he turned on the burner and heated the substance until it was a liquid. Out came the yellow elastic band that he used as a tourniquet, wrapping it around his arm above his elbow. When the vein was thick and pulsing, he sucked up the liquid in a hypodermic.

Steadying his shaking hands.

His phone buzzed.

Out of habit, he glanced at the number.

Blocked.

Well, fuck a duck!

He put down the needle and picked up the phone. “What?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand and we’ll produce the goods. Then we go from there.”

“One hundred. No effort on your part. It’s pure profit.”

“Can’t do it for less than two-fifty.”

Donatti hung up. He picked up the needle and looked at his arm, judging what he was about to do. His heart was still pounding, and every time he thought about her, the tempo went up a notch.

Steadying his nerves.

His phone buzzed again.

Devek this time.

“What?” Donatti said.

“Did they make contact with you?”

Donatti said, “Yes.”

“And?”

“And it’s none of your fucking business.” Donatti took in a breath and let it out. “When I have something to tell you, I’ll call you. But I’ll tell you this much. Nothing will happen, Devek, until your lawyer calls my lawyer—who is Terry’s lawyer—about the divorce.”

“I’m working on it—”

“Well, work fucking faster!” He hung up and took a deep breath. Once again, he aimed the hypodermic at his vein.

His phone buzzed again. This time, it was the blocked number.

Oh, fuck it!

He put the hypodermic down and peeled off the elastic tourniquet. By now his fingers were numb. He wiggled them for a second, then slid the icon to the other side. “What?”

“Two hundred.”

“One-fifty. Text your bank wiring information to this number. It’s after hours where I am, so it won’t go out until tomorrow. It’ll probably post the next day. When it’s in the account, you call me back and show me the goods and we’ll go from there.”

Again, he hung up. While he waited for their text, he squirted the heroin back into a plastic baggie. The water would eventually evaporate, and he’d save most of the powder. Then he capped the hypodermic and returned that and everything else to the black bag. Stowed it away. Locked it away.

The urge had passed.

Funny.

Five minutes later, his phone dinged.

All the instructions were there, spelled out in front of him.

If only life came with a fucking user’s manual.