Sex, Crack, and Rock N' Roll

Where was I, when was it? Monday night, Apache, stoned, faded, feeling it. My friend drops by and conveys his stress to me, we have cocktails. I’m supposed to be finding a ride, so I can pick up a girl I’ve just begun to hangout with. He tells me he will do it, but we have to wait too long. He can no longer wait, and must go out to score something worth doing. Of course, she calls me twenty minutes later. I call him, he says he’ll be by in thirty, he never shows. It’s cool though, because I understand his dilemma, and reasons for not showing. Instead, I call her a cab, so she can get here. I run over to the ATM across the street to get the appropriate funds for the cab, and my impending journey to NYC. Once I get back, I talk to Layla and Jess on the steps for a bit. Soon enough I spot the cab pulling in. I go to pay the cabbie, and walk Felicity upstairs. As soon as we get into the apartment, the attraction is electric, we fight with it for a bit, trying to let a respectable amount of time pass before we maul each other, but this was fruitless. Passionate sex was had on the couch, clothes were removed just enough, and even though we had waited for the short time we managed, we had still whipped up enough anticipation to make it really good. Now with that out of the way, we could relax for a bit. We had gone out to the stairwell for some air and a smoke, when we noticed the ride I was waiting for earlier pulling up. We invited him in, and talked for a while. At one point, Felicity and I had become hungry, so we went next door to the hookah lounge to get some Arabic coffee and takeaway, while my friend waited at my place. I ran into a few of the people who partied at my place last week, we smoked some shisha with them, while we drank our coffee, and waited for our food. After we had returned, reunited with our friend, and ate dinner, the conversation turned to drugs. Hard drugs, which ones we wanted, and which ones we could procure in the immediate future. Coke was wanted, but we realized we would have to settle for crack. I suggested a crack house I knew of down in the barren wasteland drug district of east Phoenix. We drove down there and found nothing, this made us cruise the area in search of someone else. We found someone in under a minute, and after some quick talk, he got in the car and directed us to another crack house. On the way there, he was talking the usual ghetto bullshit like ‘I’m O.G.’ and ‘I know all about these streets here’. When we got there, I suggested that my friend go in with him to make sure he was on the level. I wanted to do it myself, but my current look is not a true indication of who I am, and I knew that the last thing these dealers wanted to see was a white-boy with long hair wearing a polo shirt. However, my friend was too scared. So I said fuck it, I’ll go, I wanted to go. We hop out of the car and head towards a shit-hole of a house, with random crack heads lurking outside of it. We went in the back and I gave our man the cash for what we needed. At the same time some crack head sidled up to me, and we talked while I waited. She was befriending me, and telling me she came up to look after me, because they did not like white people here. I told her it’s okay, I have my butterfly knife with me, in case anything pops off. Which in hindsight, probably meant very little, because they most likely had guns, and I certainly did not. Anyways, everything went off without a hitch, and I dropped a broker fee on our man. On the way to the car the crack head began begging me for a hit, telling me she’d give me fifty cents or whatever; what a joke. Once at the car, I ask my friend for some cellophane to put the rocks in, but he’s all flustered, just saying ‘Get in the car, get in the car, get in the car.’ So, we drive off into the night and my buddy immediately gives the product a test run. Satisfied, we head back to my place. Once back, we have more drinks, and run through the crack very quickly. Shortly after the shit was gone, my friend chose to leave Felicity and I to the rest of our night. Will I discuss it here? No. There’s just some things that are private. I tell you fuckers enough anyways. Let’s just say we had a good time, and she left around four p.m. the next day.