“Those are all from boxing matches along the Burmese border,” says Harrison. “They wrap the rope around their hands.”

Mike knew that already, but he isn’t sure how.

Paul arrives shortly, carrying clinking bodega bags of green beer. He walks in talking, as if to announce himself with some kind of monologue. Mike feels like he’s heard it all before, even though he hasn’t. “The problem in Thailand,” says Paul, “is not farangs. Yes, farangs are annoying. They visit just to fuck the women. Some maybe go to earth and stay, OK. I’m a farang.” Mike wonders if anyone besides him is listening. “But the real problem,” says Paul, “is Thais who want to be farangs. Bananas. Yellow on the outside, white on the inside. They fuck up the system. They say they are cleaning it up but they are the dirtiest.”

Mike sees that Paul is particularly upset by the notion of dirty.

Mike sits in an easy chair watching Burton chop four white pills into halves. Paul eats two halves and Burton eats one. Mike is surprised by the lack of ceremony, especially compared to the way he’s seen every stoner back home get high—so very, very carefully.

“Have you ever taken ecstasy?” Paul asks.

“No,” says Mike.

“Man, watch out,” Paul says. He sighs and suddenly seems very tired. Mike realizes Paul is either drunk or high, probably both. “The fucking cops are everywhere,” he says, “but don’t worry, it’s always too early for dread.”

Mike has no idea.

Burton looks at him. “Would you like a pill, Mike?”

Mike shakes his head. Not now, he thinks. Sometime, maybe soon, but not now.

Burton has changed into a loose shirt and great baggy silk pants. He sits on a footstool next to Mike’s chair. His blond hair is now let down from the topknot and loose about his eyes.

“Have you ever tried it, then?”

“I tend not to do hard drugs.”

“You’ve tried some, then?”

Mike smoked weed occasionally back home. It made him stupid and slightly sleepy and he usually did it with Jane and they would fuck and watch a movie.

“Yeah, I had a bad time recently.”

“What happened?” Burton asks, and Mike is not surprised, somehow, by how easily the lies come.

“I’d been smoking and drinking with my girlfriend and some people at a party on the roof of this building, and I think there must have been some weird shit in the weed, because it made me sort of nuts.”

“That’s no good,” Burton says, tapping down a cigarette.