A girl walked along now that made him take notice. Black hair, pretty, cruising slow; she wore an open midriff blouse and denim white pants washed a lot. Hey, I know her, he thought. Thats Bob Arctors girl. Thats Donna.
He pushed open the car door and stepped out. The girl eyed him and continued on. He followed.
Thinks Im fixing to grab-ass, he thought as he snaked among the people. How easily she gained speed; he could barely see her now as she glanced back. A firm, calm face He saw large eyes that appraised him. Calculated his speed and would he catch up. Not at this rate, he thought. She can really move.
At the corner people had halted for the sign to say WALK instead of DONT WALK; cars were making wild left turns. But the girl continued on, fast but with dignity, threading her path among the nut-o cars. The drivers glared at her with indignation. She didnt appear to notice.
Donna! When the sign flashed WALK he hurried across after her and caught up with her. She declined to run but merely walked rapidly. Arent you Bobs old lady? he said. He managed to get in front of her to examine her face.
No, she said. No. She came toward him, directly at him; he retreated backward, because she held a short knife pointed at his stomach. Get lost, she said, continuing to move forward without slowing or hesitating.
Sure you are, he said. I met you at his place. He could hardly see the knife, only a tiny section of blade metal, but he knew it was there. She would stab him and walk on. He continued to retreat backward, protesting. The girl held the knife so well concealed that probably no one else, the others walking along, could notice. But he did; it was going right at him as she approached without hesitation. He stepped aside, then, and the girl traveled on, in silence.
Jeez! he said to the back of her. I know its Donna, he thought. She just doesnt flash on who I am, that she knows me. Scared, I guess; scared Im going to hustle her. You got to be careful, he thought, when you come to a strange chick on the street; theyre all prepared now. Too much has happened to them.
Funky little knife, he thought. Chicks shouldnt carry those; any guy could turn her wrist and the blade back on her any time he wanted. I could have. If I really wanted to get her. He stood there, feeling angry. I know that was Donna, he thought.
As he started to go back toward his parked car, he realized that the girl had halted, out of the movement of passers-by, and now stood silently gazing at him.
He walked cautiously toward her. One night, he said, me and Bob and another chick had some old Simon and Garfunkel tapes, and you were sitting there She had been filling capsules with high-grade death, one by one, painstakingly. For over an hour. El Primo. Numero Uno: Death. After she had finished she had laid a cap on each of them and they had dropped them, all of them together. Except her. I just sell them, she had said. If I start dropping them I eat up all my profits.
The girl said, I thought you were going to knock me down and bang me.
No, he said. I just wondered if you He hesitated. Like, wanted a ride. On the sidewalk? he said, startled. In broad daylight?
Maybe in a doorway. Or pull me into a car.
I know you, he protested. And Arctor would snuff me if I did that.
Well, I didnt recognize you. She came toward him three steps. Im sorta nearsighted.
You ought to wear contacts. She had, he thought, lovely large dark warm eyes. Which meant she wasnt on junk.
I did have. But one fell out into a punch bowl. Acid punch, at a party. It sank to the bottom, and I guess someone dipped it up and drank it. I hope it tasted good; it cost me thirty-five dollars, originally.
You want a ride where youre going?
Youll bang me in the car.
No, he said, I cant get it on right now, these last couple of weeks. It must be something theyre adulterating all the stuff with. Some chemical.
Thats a neat-o line, but Ive heard it before. Everybody bangs me. She amended that. Tries to, anyhow. Thats what its like to be a chick. Im suing one guy in court right now, for molestation and assault. Were asking punitive damages in excess of forty thousand.
How fard he get?
Donna said, Got his hand around my boob.
That isnt worth forty thousand.
Together, they walked back toward his car.
You got anything to sell? he asked. Im really hurting. Im virtually out, in fact, hell, I am out, come to think of it. Even a few, if you could spare a few.
I can get you some.
Tabs, he said. I dont shoot up.
Yes. She nodded intently, head down. But, see, theyre real scarce right nowthe supplys temporarily dried up. You probably discovered that already. I cant get you very many, but
When? he broke in. They had reached his car; he halted, opened the door, got in. On the far side Donna got in. They sat side by side.
Day after tomorrow, Donna said. If I can git ahold of this guy. I think I can.
Shit, he thought. Day after tomorrow. No sooner? Not like, say, tonight?
Tomorrow at the earliest.
How much?
Sixty dollars a hundred.
Oh, Jeez, he said. Thats a burn.
Theyre super good. Ive got them from him before; theyre really not what you usually buy into. Take my word for ittheyre worth it. Actually, I prefer to get them from him rather than from anybody elsewhen I can. He doesnt always have them. See, he just took a trip down south, I guess. He just got back. He picked them up himself, so I know theyre good for sure. And you dont have to pay me in advance. When I get them. Okay? I trust you.
I never front, he said.
Sometimes you have to.
Okay, he said. Then can you get me at least a hundred? He tried to figure, rapidly, how many he could get; in two days he probably could raise one hundred twenty dollars and get two hundred tabs from her. And if he ran across a better deal in the meantime, from other people who were holding, he could forget her deal and buy from them. That was the advantage of never fronting, that plus never being burned.
Its lucky for you that you ran into me, Donna said as he started up his car and backed out into traffic. Im supposed to see this one dude in about an hour, and hed probably take all I could get youd have been out of luck. This was your day. She smiled, and he did too.
I wish you could get them sooner, he said.
If I do Opening her purse, she got out a little note pad and a pen that had SPARKS BATTERY TUNE-UP stamped on it. How do I get hold of you, and I forget your name.
Charles B. Freck, he said. He told her his phone numbernot his, really, but the one he made use of at a straight friends house, for messages like thisand laboriously she wrote it down. What difficulty she had writing, he thought. Peering and slowly scrawling They dont teach the chicks jack shit in school any more, he thought. Flat-out illiterate. But foxy. So she cant hardly read or write; so what? What matters with a fox is nice tits.