as big as a basketball and you’re saying gimme two. Let me wrap it and—”
“No, I can’t wait,” Leroy said, accepting two matches from Pookie. “The way it’s goin’ tonight, this might be the only medicine I get before—”
“Before what?” Black said, trying to get Leroy to shut up before he got them kicked out of the only safe place they could be for the next few hours. “Before we go get some more dope?”
As Leroy struck the matches and held them up to the end of the metal piece of antenna that he had stashed in his sock along with the five thousand he’d taken from Podres, Black dumped two caps into one of the glass straight shooters he’d just bought and offered it to Clarisse.
She accepted it, Black handed her two matches, then dumped two more into another and lit two matches for himself. Pookie pulled out her own straight and lit up two of the caps that Rock had given her earlier, and for the next few minutes, they all pulled poison into their lungs.
Black had to force himself to sit still as he held in the smoke, because his ears began to ring. It sounded almost like sirens, and it could have been, but he had learned long ago not to let paranoia consume him or cause an outward change in his behavior. That could get you killed, he thought, as he released the smoke slowly through his nose and looked around at everyone else.
Pookie began to twitch in a way that was almost frightening as she blew out the smoke. Clarisse stood perfectly still for a moment, her eyes as big as tea saucers, then sat slowly down in the same chair Leroy had soiled just moments ago. Leroy’s jaw began to move rhythmically from side to side, and his eyes were momentarily filled with the desperation Black had seen earlier. Then he relaxed and began to look slowly around the room, fixing his gaze on Black, then on Clarisse, and finally on Pookie.
As the momentary high gave way to the almost sexual sensation that followed, each of them lost themselves in private, crack-induced thoughts amid the slowly swirling cloud of acrid smoke. In the maze of streets that surrounded them, however, the news of what had happened in the house began to spread. And the net that the world was trying to throw around them was rapidly taking shape, being transmitted over police radios even as they smoked themselves into a schizophrenic stupor.
* * *
The dispatcher on J band—the police’s main radio frequency—cursed herself for agreeing to stay over and work the four hours of overtime. As usual, they were shorthanded in the Radio Room, and she was needed. That, and the fact that she actually cared about the cops she had worked with every day for the past ten years, was what kept her going.
One of the few experienced people in Radio—a high-stress, high-turnover job—she was probably the only one the lieutenant would entrust with J band on a night when it seemed that all hell was breaking loose on the border of East and Northwest divisions. Not even one of the uniformed officers who occasionally worked the consoles could have handled the pressure of a high-speed chase across two or three divisions as well as she could, and everyone knew it. So they endured her barbs and watched her switch back and forth across the Radio Room, teasing any and every man who would dare think he could have her.
That was another thing that kept up her zeal for the job—the men. At fifty, her chances of finding another husband were slim, but if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying, and it wouldn’t be because she didn’t look good. With caramel skin that looked as if it would melt at the slightest touch, luxurious, thick hair cut to shoulder length, and a curvaceous figure that belied her chair-bound profession, she still attracted stares from men half her age. She was getting stares even now. But she was ignoring them. Her concern now was leaving. She’d had enough excitement for one night. With that thought in mind, she
“No, I can’t wait,” Leroy said, accepting two matches from Pookie. “The way it’s goin’ tonight, this might be the only medicine I get before—”
“Before what?” Black said, trying to get Leroy to shut up before he got them kicked out of the only safe place they could be for the next few hours. “Before we go get some more dope?”
As Leroy struck the matches and held them up to the end of the metal piece of antenna that he had stashed in his sock along with the five thousand he’d taken from Podres, Black dumped two caps into one of the glass straight shooters he’d just bought and offered it to Clarisse.
She accepted it, Black handed her two matches, then dumped two more into another and lit two matches for himself. Pookie pulled out her own straight and lit up two of the caps that Rock had given her earlier, and for the next few minutes, they all pulled poison into their lungs.
Black had to force himself to sit still as he held in the smoke, because his ears began to ring. It sounded almost like sirens, and it could have been, but he had learned long ago not to let paranoia consume him or cause an outward change in his behavior. That could get you killed, he thought, as he released the smoke slowly through his nose and looked around at everyone else.
Pookie began to twitch in a way that was almost frightening as she blew out the smoke. Clarisse stood perfectly still for a moment, her eyes as big as tea saucers, then sat slowly down in the same chair Leroy had soiled just moments ago. Leroy’s jaw began to move rhythmically from side to side, and his eyes were momentarily filled with the desperation Black had seen earlier. Then he relaxed and began to look slowly around the room, fixing his gaze on Black, then on Clarisse, and finally on Pookie.
As the momentary high gave way to the almost sexual sensation that followed, each of them lost themselves in private, crack-induced thoughts amid the slowly swirling cloud of acrid smoke. In the maze of streets that surrounded them, however, the news of what had happened in the house began to spread. And the net that the world was trying to throw around them was rapidly taking shape, being transmitted over police radios even as they smoked themselves into a schizophrenic stupor.
* * *
The dispatcher on J band—the police’s main radio frequency—cursed herself for agreeing to stay over and work the four hours of overtime. As usual, they were shorthanded in the Radio Room, and she was needed. That, and the fact that she actually cared about the cops she had worked with every day for the past ten years, was what kept her going.
One of the few experienced people in Radio—a high-stress, high-turnover job—she was probably the only one the lieutenant would entrust with J band on a night when it seemed that all hell was breaking loose on the border of East and Northwest divisions. Not even one of the uniformed officers who occasionally worked the consoles could have handled the pressure of a high-speed chase across two or three divisions as well as she could, and everyone knew it. So they endured her barbs and watched her switch back and forth across the Radio Room, teasing any and every man who would dare think he could have her.
That was another thing that kept up her zeal for the job—the men. At fifty, her chances of finding another husband were slim, but if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying, and it wouldn’t be because she didn’t look good. With caramel skin that looked as if it would melt at the slightest touch, luxurious, thick hair cut to shoulder length, and a curvaceous figure that belied her chair-bound profession, she still attracted stares from men half her age. She was getting stares even now. But she was ignoring them. Her concern now was leaving. She’d had enough excitement for one night. With that thought in mind, she
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