They went into a coffee shop and Tyrone called Big Tim and when he came out of the booth he gave Marion the address. Its right around the corner. We/ll meet you here. If we not here jus wait. She nodded and turned and walked stiffly from the coffee shop. Harry watched her go, wondering if he should have kissed her before she left. They finished their coffee and Tyrone suggested they take in a movie, Theres one jus a couple blocks. Do we have that much time to kill? Tyrone just looked. Harry shrugged and they left.
Marion walked the short distance to the large apartment building, looking straight ahead of her, her back stiff, unaware of the gentle quietness of her surroundings. The building still had a canopy, but the doorman had been dispensed with many years before. She pushed the button and the buzzer sounded and she pushed open the door, and she stood in front of the inner door, unaware of the television camera focused on her. The buzzer sounded again and she pushed the door open and rode the elevator to the twenty second floor. Big Tims smile was from ear to ear as he opened the door and stepped aside to let Marion in. He had to step aside because Big Tim was big, in every sense of the word. He was about sixsix, broad, huge, big… his body was big, his smile was big, his laugh was big, and even his apartment was big. The living room was huge and endless french doors opened on a balcony that overlooked Central Park and you could see for miles. His view was big. He took her coat and hung it up and told her to sit, indicating the large couch. There was some old Coltrane playing and he moved in time to the music as he went to the bar and poured himself a large glass of bourbon. What would you like? Marion shook her head, Nothing. O, you strictly a dope fien? Marion was startled by his question. She had never thought of herself as a dope fiend. She shook her head and felt a need to buy some time, but she wasnt sure why. Eventually she asked for some chartreuse. Yellow or green? Again she was surprised and muttered yellow while she tried to compose herself and recover from the rapid series of surprises. Her surroundings were starting to register and somehow they were diametrically opposed to what she had expected though she hadnt been aware of expecting anything. She looked over her shoulder at the incredible expanse of sky and skyline and then around the room. Big Tim brought the drinks, and bottles, over and put them on the table, then opened a drawer and took out a hash pipe and put a nice size piece of hash in the bowl. He lit it and took a long poke then handed it to Marion. She accepted it automatically and took a couple of pokes then handed it back to Tim. They handed it back and forth until the hash was gone and Tim turned the pipe over an ashtray and let the ashes fall out. Whats your name? Marion. His laugh was loud and deep and happy… very happy and relaxing, What you know, Maid Marion, hahaha, Im Little John. Marion sipped her chartreuse and smoked her cigarette feeling the combination of dope, hash and alcohol dissolving all concerns. She finished her drink and as Tim refilled the glass Marion leaned back and closed her eyes and felt the warmth flow through her as her body and mind relaxed and she smiled and then chuckled as she thought of what her family would do if they could see her making it with a schvartzer. What’s so funny? Marion shook her head, laughed for a moment, Nothing. Its a family joke. You outta sight fox, why you want to get all fucked up behind scag? Again Marion was surprised by the reference to her being an addict and she shook her head and took another drag of her cigarette, buy more time. I like a little taste once in a while. Sheeit, you aint sittin here with me cause you like a little tase baby, uh huh. Marion shrugged and sipped her drink and tried to say something, but continued sipping her drink instead. Sheeit, that dont mean nothin to me. Jus so long as ah doan get into mah own shit. Ah aint even horned any an ah aint goin to neither, uh uh. He took a drink, A little juice and little smoke make it for me real nice. He refilled the hash pipe and lit it, took a long poke and handed it to Marion, Ah jus like to sit back an be cool and dig mah man Trane—sheeit, ah shore wish that mutha fucka was still alive. Damn he could blow. He refilled his glass and Marions and took the pipe when she handed it to him and took a couple of hits and gave it back to her, speaking to her while still holding his breath, Better make it quick baby, its bout gone. Marion dumped the ashes in the ashtray and drank some chartreuse and Tim put an arm around her and pulled her next to him. He put his legs up on the table and stretched out and Marion put hers up on the couch. You dig mah man Trane? Marion nodded, I have every record he ever cut. All the old Miles quintet, Monk, all of them. No shit? Thas nice. Ah likes a chick that knows how to listen to music. You know most broads jus dont know how to listen. Women arent the only ones. Maybe. But most brothers know how to listen. Ah mean really listen. He took another drink, licked his lips and leaned back with his eyes closed for a minute, listening. Marion closed her eyes and just leaned against his chest, feeling the weight and security of his arm around her, moving her toes slightly in time to the music. That last hash and the chartreuse really did it. She felt fine. She felt warm. She felt at home. Trane had just finished a chorus and the piano player came in and Marion muttered a soft, Yeah. Tim opened his eyes and smiled and looked at her. You know what ah likes best about patty chicks? They give good haid. Nigga broads—Marion felt something in her stir, she felt her eyes pop open, but remained immobile. Tims huge hand was fondling her right breast—doan know nothin about givin haid. Ah dont know why. Might be it has somethin to do with some ancient tribal custom. Marion heard his laugh and wondered why it reminded her of Santa Glaus, but it was true, he sounded like a commercial for jolly old St. Nick. He put his other arm around her and pulled her up to him and kissed her as his hands seemed to cover her entire body at once. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him as hard as she could, clinging even tighter to his neck. After a minute he backed off slightly, Better save some a that energy. His laugh made her smile. Her hands slowly slid from around his neck and she was resting on his stomach when he gently turned her head around and took out his joint. All of Marions reactions were slowed from the dope and alcohol and so she just looked, stared, but inside she felt startled, as if she should say and do something besides just look at his joint. There was a terrible battle going on within her. She knew what she was supposed to do, but her entire being was suddenly repulsed by the reality of it. Her insides trembled and knotted. Ah know its purty baby, but ah didnt take it out for air. He nudged her slightly. Marion responded and grabbed it with her right hand and started kissing it and rubbing it with her lips when she became aware that she was getting sick. She sat up, her eyes wide, her hand over her mouth. Tim looked for a second, then laughed and pointed to a door, That way, and continued to laugh, still sounding like jolly old St. Nick. When Marion finished throwing up she bathed her face with cold water then sat on the side of the tub trembling with fright. For a second a panic froze her body and mind. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes. The nausea was gone. But she was sweating. Trembling. What would he do? She had to get that dope. She breathed deeply again. Put some more cold water on her face and patted it dry and tried to fix her hair as best she could. She almost prayed that he wasnt bugged. Please God, dont let him be bugged. Im alright now. Its all the same. All the same. She went back into the living room and did her best to smile. Guess it was the chartreuse. He smiled and laughed. Im alright now, her smile turning into an eager grin. He spread his legs as she knelt in front of him and closed her eyes and pulled his pants off and caressed his ass as she sucked his joint with all the enthusiasm the thought of the dope generated, glancing up at him from time to time and smiling. Big Tim leaned back and took a drink and laughed, Yeah, Little Bo Beep done foun her sheep…
Harry fidgeted in the movie. He continually squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position, but each time he thought he had his back would start hurting, or his ass got sore or his legs started cramping and so he continually adjusted his position, smoking one cigarette after the other. He couldnt stay in one position more than a few minutes so he got up to get some candy, Want somethin man? Yeah, Snickers. He got a couple of candy bars and came back and started the routine all over again. One movie wasnt too bad, an old Randy Scott shootim up, but the other one was a fuckin drag, a real fuckin drag. A would be romantic comedy that musta had a budget of a dollar ninety eight. Jesus, what a bunch a shit. From time to time he would glance at Tyrone, from the corner of his eye, and he was just staring at the screen, diggin what was goin on. He tried to concentrate on the dumb ass flick but his head kept fighting him and telling him he was an asshole for even waiting for the broad, that she was there for a while man and forget it. Shes up there with a heavy weight dude with a pile of shit and youre going to sit and wait in a funky ass coffee shop for her? Shit, youre outta ya fuckin mind. Shes up there fuckin the ass off that dude man and youre here chewing them fuckin Chuckles until theyre all stuck all over your fuckin teeth and watchin some dumb ass flick made by a bunch of fuckin assholes. He moved around again and grunted out loud. Tyrone continued to stare at the screen, but reached over and patted him on the back, Its cool man. Everything cool. He turned and smiled a big, white toothed smile and patted him again. Harry nodded and shoved a few more Chuckles in his mouth.