chapter*Dad
textscCock’s hallway, where Candy said she put it. The first bathroom. And there’s Cock’s office. Low desk. Two computers. Tons of paper.
Cock is lying on the kitchen floor.
He’s fine.
The whole fucking garage is filled with broken statues.
Pilates tomorrow. Gotta get Liss home by like 8.
Candy’s gonna keep him entertained. She said she’d give him pills. He’ll pass out. Liss will go to sleep. Then we’ll go smoke by the pool or on Cock’s Camaro. Candy said she’d drive. Until then it’s in the bathroom.
Hidden under some towels.
I have to take a shit.
Candy told me she put it under the second to the last towel. Said there’s a stack in there. Said to put everything back like I found it. It’s one of those bathrooms could only have been put together by a housewife or a maid. Little shell soaps. Straight out of Home Depot. It’s the bathroom you always hoped you’d have, when you had a real grown-up house someday. Maybe it’s the bathroom you knew you’d have to have to keep your wife happy. Our bathrooms aren’t like this. Hannah’s a free spirit.
“Did you find it?”
This is Candy yelling back at me.
She means the bathroom.
“Yeah,” I say. As soon as I close that door I’m on a clock. I have to be in there for exactly the amount of time that it takes to piss, to take a shit, to do whatever I would be expected to be doing in Cock’s bathroom for about three minutes.
Close. Click. The light is on.
There’s those towels.
I pick them up, all but the last one.
There’s nothing there.
I’m looking around the bathroom. It’s fucking pristine. I hate this kind of bathroom. I bet no one even uses the shower.
It’s got lights like a dressing-room mirror.
“Cock would kill me,” Candy was saying. “He would fucking kill me if he knew. If he knew we were doing it in his house—he would kill you too.”
“Won’t he smell it?”
“No,” she says. “He never goes in there. I’ll put it in the guest bathroom. It’s the first room on the right, after the hallway turns. There’s a stack of towels. It’s right by the sink. I’ll go in before you. You talk to him. I’ll go smoke. Then you go back. You smoke.” Candy’s grabbing my arm. She’s giddy like a four-year-old. “I know you’re gonna love it. I get good shit.”
Everyone always thinks their shit is the best.
I pick up the last towel.
It’s there.
It’s not between the last and the second-to-last towel.
It’s at the very bottom.
Faux-wicker basket.
It’s really plastic.
You find yourself in these places in Hollywood—and I used to ride my bike everywhere—there’s people who do drugs and there’s people who don’t. You might be riding your bike out over some bus stop and there’s some old man talking to you and he doesn’t do drugs—he’s got a family—he’s got grandkids. Then you might be a block down, 2am. Some guy got you the stem. He knows the seller. The seller drives around the street in some bulletproof SUV. He won’t talk to you. He’ll talk to this homeless guy. And they can get you ecstasy—but it’s not real ecstasy. You have to be careful with those guys. But if you just want to smoke some crack, that’s no problem.
Candy has it ready.
She already smoked it.
There’s a white film at the bottom of the pipe.
I put the towels down next to the sink.
There’s one of those stupid decorative stoppers. It’s in the shape of Poseidon, with his spear.
I’m on the edge of the sink, my back to the mirror.
She’s got a torch; nice big lighter.
I flick it.
And I go.
First time I smoked crystal meth, with my neighbors, when I was twenty—this is in Hollywood. In LA we refer to emphbuildings as having drug problems. It’s not about one person. The Standard—the strip?—it has a cocaine problem. The emphbuilding does. It’s like how servers always smoke pot? It’s part of the restaurant business. The Standard has a coke problem. The Alto Nido—where I used to live—it has a meth problem.
First time I smoked it it was like a lightness in my lungs.
Like flight.
You walk up and down the hallways—all you smell is meth. The Alto Nido: that’s the building in the opening shot of Sunset Blvd. Know that film?
I check the door.
I don’t lock it.
It’s closed.
I’m up on the counter. This is how we do it. I’ve got the stem.
I spark it: nice, slow flame.
It’s boiling.
Fuck. You always fuck up your hands doing this.
It’s melting.
Twist it.
Twist the stem.
A cauldron.
White.
Smoke. It’s turning.
Turn it. There we go.
I take a breath.
Pilates is about breathing.
There it is.
White smoke.
Saliva catching—throat catch.
It’s not there yet.
I see myself in the mirror—reflection catches me.
He doesn’t like to look at himself—times like these.
He looks away. He has things to do. He’ll deal with that later.
It’s not necessary to reflect.
Just melt it.
Bitter.
“You okay back there?” That’s Candy’s voice.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Did you see those shorts I left you?”
“Board shorts? Yeah.” There they are.
Then Cock: he’s saying something about emphwhy do I need shorts.
“You’re drunk, baby. You’re drunk. Where’s that order?”
“I dunno I had it—where emphis that order?”
I lean out the door. “Is Liss okay?”
“Liss is fine.”
Candy is with me. “You need to close that door.”
“Are you watching her?”
“She placed the order. She placed Chinese. Those board shorts should fit you fine. Give me a hit. Give me a hit. Go. Shut up.” She grabs my dick. Grabs the trunk. It’s not even sexual. Elephants shaking hands. “Give me one real quick.” Candy’s on the counter. Frayed jeans. I can see the edge of everything. That mirror.
I touch it.
“Oh, baby, are you doing that? Don’t look at it. Here. Take a hit.”
“Where’s Cock?”
“He’s fuckin’—passed out. He’s with Liss.”
“Who is Mega Cock?”
Candy is rolling the stem.
She hits it. She makes me hit it. She touches my dick again.
“How does that feel?”
“Wonderful.”
“Change into those shorts. Put this back. Put it under the second-to-last towel. Come out. Liss is by the pool.”
“What did you order?”
“Chinese. And we used your credit card.”
“Good.”
“Candy.”
I grab her.
“They’ll know.”
She puts her fingers on my chin.
“They won’t know. They won’t. How do I look?”
“Fine.”
“Just don’t say anything. Come to the pool. Okay? Come to the pool. You feel that? That’s nyce, huh? Told you I got the guud shyyt. Cock’ll pass out. Get some dinner. Liss is by the pool. Come out..in one..second.”
Candy’s gone.
I’m left with the mirror.
That reflection.
Pink bunny.
Oh my god.
Liss is by the pool.
emphDon’t say anything.
How can they not smell it?
They won’t know.
Cock.
emphHE WOULD KILL ME IF HE KNEW.
I take another hit.
I heat it up.
It had gotten cold.
My thumb is raw. Holding the lighter.
One more hit.
One more.
I don’t feel it yet.
Their shit is never as good as they say.
I look in the mirror.
Don’t.
Do not do that. Look at the shower. Look at the seashells. Look at the dressing lights. Bright. With a reflexure. Light lines in wire. Bold relief. And I can feel it. That sexual feeling. I hope it stays. I’m up on the counter, soaking wet, knees pulled in, pipe in hand, running that lighter. Thumbs raw. Switching to the other one. She has more. She has more in her car. This isn’t the last of it. Get it liquid. Candy’s out there. What if I smoke the last of her shit? Candy might be mad at me. Cock might be mad. Cock is going to find out. You have to know that. Cock is going to find out. You can’t just smoke meth in some motherfucker’s bathroom and have him not find out.
Put the everything back.
Put it back.
That’s all you can smoke for now.
Candy has more.
I’ll come back for another trip to the bathroom.
Get it really high.
This is just the first trip.
Go out there.
Put the towels back.
Put it where Candy says.
No.
Put it where Candy’ll look for it.
Put it under the last towel.
Bottom of the wicker basket.
Grab those board shorts.
Close the door.
Hallway.
There’s Cock’s office.
There’s the bedroom.
Candy is kneeling on Cock in the middle of the kitchen.
“How are those shorts?” she asks.
I place them on the marble counter. “The shorts are fine.”
“Good,” Candy says. She gets off Cock.
Liss is by the pool.
Her feet are in.
She’s looking out over Los Angeles.
Cock looks blissfully, perfectly happy.
He rolls up and searches in his cabinets.
Medical jar there; prescription bottle.
“You want some of this?”
He’s tapping out a line.
“You want some of this?”
He’s got a huge bottle of cocaine. It’s like—half a pound.
“I don’t really use it,” Cock says. “I just keep it around for company.”
The doorbell rings.
Candy goes to get it.
It’s Chinese.
“You want a line?”
“Liss! Dinner!”
“Wait. Do this before she gets here.”
Cock does one with me.
Liss is inside.
That really is good shit.
“I got you shrimp,” she says.
The coke is hitting.
The bunny serves me up lo mein.
I press it aside.
“You want another shot?”
“I’m not all that hungry.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cock says, in front of my daughter, “when I do coke I’m never all that hungry either.”
The doorbell rings.
“Oh good,” Cock says. “Mega Cock. I’m glad for you to meet him.”
The bunny smiles.