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“I’ve had enough of the music scene for tonight. Let’s go and get us a coffee and shoot the shit a bit. I want to learn about you.”
He headed across the street toward the huge food court that stayed open twenty-four hours a day and bought them coffees, hotdogs, and the donut she’d pointed to. Then he found a quiet place to sit. Wendi fidgeted as if she didn’t know what to think about this treatment.
“Something wrong?” He sensed her confusion.
“I don’t figure I’ve ever been on a date where a guy brought me to a food court before.” She bit into the hotdog and groaned. “God this tastes good. Not sure I ate today.”
Luke didn’t have to fake laughter at her way of stating what he expected was a fact. “Where do they take you? Your men friends.”
Wendi seemed to like his enjoyment of her confession and settled back against the leather-backed booth. “You want the truth?”
When he nodded, she took a sip of her coffee first and then admitted, “Usually hotel rooms.”
Luke heard the note of sadness she tried to cover with a shrug.
“Most guys are willing to treat me nice – you know, buy me booze, and even share their drugs as long as they get laid. And that’s fine with me. I’m a good-time gal.”
Though her words seemed sincere, her tone gave away the fear he’d seen in many of the girls who hung out on Broadway and lived the life Wendi just described. They were all about partying, helping guys have a blast when on vacation, but being left behind to pick up the pieces when it was over became stale fast.
Luke took another bite of his food, pushed away the spurt of compassion, and shoved his plate to the side. Then he leaned close to her so he could speak low. “Tell me about the product you’ve been using. It was bad tonight, trying to keep my shit together. If I could just get a small hit near the end of the night, I could last. I’d be better. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I know. But I don’t give out the name of my provider.”
“Got it. Just tell me if he’s just distributing the coke… or running a lab and cooking his own? I want the better stuff, yeah? I’m not interested in the black-market shit.”
“Of course. Look, Luke, I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but it’s not cheap anymore. They’re asking top dollar for the superior product.”
Pretending to be a rookie, he asked, “Does that mean they have to pay to get it shipped?” He watched her reaction closely.
“Nah. It’s here, in the Gulch where no one would expect to find it.”
“Christ. That’s rich. Years ago, that place had such a bad rep that the city spent millions fixing it only to have it become home to a dope ring. What’s the odds?” He pretended enjoyment at the news but inside he hated the idea that slime had penetrated so deep.
“Yeah. Know what you mean. I wished I could still get their stuff. It was good, gave one a trip in the clouds. But can’t afford it now.” She turned to him. “But baby, you can.”
“Hey. I’d like to but my ex’s draining me dry. I had to sell off most of what I own. Bitch would take my guitar and boots if she could.” He sneered his dislike of being put in such a position and hoped he’d played his part enough for her to believe it.
Seeming to understand, Wendi put her hand on his arm and leaned in to kiss him, her sympathy palpable.
He turned his head in time for her lips to land on his cheek, and then he cuddled her close as if he hadn’t meant to escape from having to kiss her for real. “Aww, baby. You’re a sweetheart. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
He felt her shudder and realized she’d begun to cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Slapping at her tears as if ashamed to show real emotions, Wendi pulled out an old rolled-up tissue from her grimy purse and used it to clear away the tears. “I guess I hoped you’d be willing to have one last party with me. It would be sweet to have that high again.”
“You know someone? I mean who makes the premier booty?”
“Yeah, my old boyfriend works at the place. He’d sell to me.”
“Okay then. I’ll make you a deal. You take me to the bastard, and I’ll buy a small bag. But it’s a one-time shot, right? After that, we go strictly budget baby.”
In a short while, Wendi left him in the truck while she headed to a darkened doorway on the outskirts of a large, abandoned-looking factory just within the boundaries of the area they called the Gulch. While she was gone, Luke took a lot of pictures detailing the surroundings and pretended he was reading a text when she returned.
“Got it. Jay was pissed that I came to the place rather than hit up Joey on the corner, but I convinced him all was fine. I pretended I was alone. So, let’s go.”
Not willing to bring her to his place, Luke rented a motel room on the outskirts of town, a sleazy dump where he hoped to go unrecognized. As soon as they hit the room, Wendi had the bag in the bathroom and was setting up her shooting paraphernalia to get a hit.
He watched her trembling with the excitement of the coming euphoria, and his stomach dropped the way it always did when he saw how need controlled sanity.
