Noise and Kisses

I was sitting on my floor in my loft with today’s money in front of me. I had them in different stacks for what a needed to pay. One for rent, one for water, one for heat, one for electricity, and one for personal use. My personal was the largest of the five, I noted happily. Tomorrow morning I’d have to stop by Carols’ house and give him his cut, then buy the substances I needed to sell for that week, and the substances for myself. After that, I’ll probably have $100 left over. I sighed contently, lying back on the hard floor, not only is drug dealing easier than manual labor, it pays better too. And I like the danger.
I put the stacks of money in individual envelopes, made them out accordingly, and put my personal on under my mattress. I’d send them out in the morning. I walked into my bathroom and stuck my hand behind the toilet. It was the perfect little place for hiding things. There was a loose brick right behind the toilet that led to only another brick.
I took my baggie and walked to my living room. I set the baggie, straw, and razor in a row on my coffee table and sat on the floor. My house was unfurnished, for now. The good thing about being Carols’ favorite was that I got the cleanest crank north of the Mexican border. I pinched a small amount onto the coffee table, cut the beautiful white crystal into a powder, and made a nerve tingling line.
I put the straw to my nose 4 times, each line growing a little bit longer. I stumbled to the bathroom and put my stash back in its usual place and sat on the tiled floor, lolling my head back on the bathtub edge.
Crank, cocaine, glass, my favorite substance, my toast to mommy.
After about forty minutes of sweet bliss, I decided I needed sleep. No way was I going to that lovely Bert’s band practice on a crash. So, I took out my stash of green, smoked myself silly, and collapsed there on the bathroom floor.