What The Devil Doesn't Know
6
Over the next few weeks, Mickey and I grew closer and closer. Almost every night we attended some party at some club where he knew the owner. Lucky for me, I had befriended one of the most well known, and well liked, guys on the London party circuit. Had I not, I would have been stuck in a foreign country with no friends, and no booze.
Rotten on the other hand, was not making this visit worthwhile. All he ever did was bitch that he missed California. Better weather he said. But Nora had wanted to go back to London, so they moved back shortly before I came. To avoid the depressing atmosphere in the Rotten house, (I had taken a liking to calling him Rotten. It really pushed his buttons, and made for good entertainment) I went out with Mickey more and more.
One night, we hit the club Mickey had taken me to on my tour. Johnathan's club. When we got in, I immediately headed to the bar. Vodka tonic. After a few drinks, and a chat with Johnathan, (like most people, he warms up to me when I'm half wasted) the drug dealing topic came up. I asked him if he really sold shit.
Yes.
What did he sell?
Everything from cigarettes to minors, to heroin.
Excellent. Interested in selling to me?
"For you little lady, I'll make a special deal." He said, "Mick over there is one of my favorite clients ever. Seeing as the two of you have become so close, and he's been so loyal to me, take this. No charge. Now I know it isn't the greatest, but it's all I can give away. You just make sure your friend sticks with me, OK?"
I smiled. Johnathan had handed me a rather large packet of pot. Now I had smoked my fair share back at home, but never this much at once. And it looked better than any of the shitty weed I could buy at home. I thanked Johnathan, and ran across the club to Mickey. He had struck up what was apparently a very amusing conversation with some pretty blond girls. I pulled him aside, and showed him my treasure. "Where the hell did you get that?" he asked, alarmed. I attempted to tell him, but the drinks were getting to me.
"Johnathan-you-I-he said..." I had blacked out.
The next morning I woke up in my room, and saw Mickey on my floor. Ah. Major hangover. I stumbled into the bathroom, puked a few times, drank some water, and took an Advil or two.
Then I remembered the pot.
I rushed to my pants that I had worn the night before, now on the floor. Someone must have changed me. It was still there! The weed was still there! Mickey stirred, and I jumped. "How are you?" he asked sitting up, half asleep and scratching his head.
"Just a tad hungover. You?"
"Fine, fine." Shit. He saw the weed.
"What are you doing?" he yelled.
"I wasn't able to tell you last night, I was too shit faced. Johnathan gave it to me. Said you were his favorite client. And since we're so close, I could have this if I kept you going to him. Why didn't you just tell me you bought from him when I asked?"
"Because!" he was upset now. "I...I didn't know how you would react." he hung his head. "I didn't know if you would be cool or not. I knew that you drank and everything, but I didn't know if you would be cool with what I do." He wasn't looking at me. I guess the ground was far more interesting.
"Well, what do you do?" I asked, not sure if I'd like the answer I got.
"Mostly just pot, " he said quickly, "but you know. I also like my other stuff now and then. Nothing too hardcore. You know, shrooms, LSD, acid. All those hippie drugs. I don't really do them. I've just tried them a few times. Oh, and meth. I've done that once or twice."
I stood examining him for a minute. I didn't care what he said. He could be a fucking crack head for all I cared. All I cared about was the fact he had lied to me.
"OK." I said finally. He looked relieved. "Well, this isn't going to smoke itself."He smiled, and I smiled back. We constructed a pipe with a water bottle and foil, and each took a hit. I was liking him more and more.
Rotten on the other hand, was not making this visit worthwhile. All he ever did was bitch that he missed California. Better weather he said. But Nora had wanted to go back to London, so they moved back shortly before I came. To avoid the depressing atmosphere in the Rotten house, (I had taken a liking to calling him Rotten. It really pushed his buttons, and made for good entertainment) I went out with Mickey more and more.
One night, we hit the club Mickey had taken me to on my tour. Johnathan's club. When we got in, I immediately headed to the bar. Vodka tonic. After a few drinks, and a chat with Johnathan, (like most people, he warms up to me when I'm half wasted) the drug dealing topic came up. I asked him if he really sold shit.
Yes.
What did he sell?
Everything from cigarettes to minors, to heroin.
Excellent. Interested in selling to me?
"For you little lady, I'll make a special deal." He said, "Mick over there is one of my favorite clients ever. Seeing as the two of you have become so close, and he's been so loyal to me, take this. No charge. Now I know it isn't the greatest, but it's all I can give away. You just make sure your friend sticks with me, OK?"
I smiled. Johnathan had handed me a rather large packet of pot. Now I had smoked my fair share back at home, but never this much at once. And it looked better than any of the shitty weed I could buy at home. I thanked Johnathan, and ran across the club to Mickey. He had struck up what was apparently a very amusing conversation with some pretty blond girls. I pulled him aside, and showed him my treasure. "Where the hell did you get that?" he asked, alarmed. I attempted to tell him, but the drinks were getting to me.
"Johnathan-you-I-he said..." I had blacked out.
The next morning I woke up in my room, and saw Mickey on my floor. Ah. Major hangover. I stumbled into the bathroom, puked a few times, drank some water, and took an Advil or two.
Then I remembered the pot.
I rushed to my pants that I had worn the night before, now on the floor. Someone must have changed me. It was still there! The weed was still there! Mickey stirred, and I jumped. "How are you?" he asked sitting up, half asleep and scratching his head.
"Just a tad hungover. You?"
"Fine, fine." Shit. He saw the weed.
"What are you doing?" he yelled.
"I wasn't able to tell you last night, I was too shit faced. Johnathan gave it to me. Said you were his favorite client. And since we're so close, I could have this if I kept you going to him. Why didn't you just tell me you bought from him when I asked?"
"Because!" he was upset now. "I...I didn't know how you would react." he hung his head. "I didn't know if you would be cool or not. I knew that you drank and everything, but I didn't know if you would be cool with what I do." He wasn't looking at me. I guess the ground was far more interesting.
"Well, what do you do?" I asked, not sure if I'd like the answer I got.
"Mostly just pot, " he said quickly, "but you know. I also like my other stuff now and then. Nothing too hardcore. You know, shrooms, LSD, acid. All those hippie drugs. I don't really do them. I've just tried them a few times. Oh, and meth. I've done that once or twice."
I stood examining him for a minute. I didn't care what he said. He could be a fucking crack head for all I cared. All I cared about was the fact he had lied to me.
"OK." I said finally. He looked relieved. "Well, this isn't going to smoke itself."He smiled, and I smiled back. We constructed a pipe with a water bottle and foil, and each took a hit. I was liking him more and more.