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“How much does your habit cost a week?” J.P. said.
“I pay for it.”
“That ain’t what I asked.”
“He gives me a special rate. I bring him customers sometime.”
“Like me and Troy?”
“I didn’t twist your arm.”
“How did Troy start on it?”
“He was burning maryjane before I met him.”
“I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard.”
“Feel sorry for yourself. You’ve got a one-way ticket to the same place he’s in.”
“There’s cures. I’ve heard about them. There’s a place in Kentucky.”
“Don’t believe it. There isn’t any cure.”
“I heard about this place. They say you can go there for a while and come out clean.”
“I took a cure once. I got out of the hospital and two weeks later I was popping it again.”
“Some people have kicked it.”
“Learn it now, J.P. You bought a one-way ticket. First you break down all the veins in one arm and you start on the other one. Then the veins in both arms are flat, and you take it in the legs. When your legs are gone you take it in the stomach, and by that time you’re finished.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I ain’t on snow. I ain’t past them pills yet.”
“The habit grows. Soon you’ll have to use something stronger. You can’t kick it.”
She smoothed the sheet against her.
“Put your mind on something else. It’s no good to think about it,” she said. “Come sit here.”
He sat on the side of the bed.
“That’s better,” she said.
“Nothing is better.”
“Wouldn’t you like to do nice things?”
“I don’t feel like it this morning.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t give a damn for doing anything right now,” he said.
“Did you do any running around in Nashville?”
“No.”
“You like girls too much for that”
