Farmer squinted up at me. "You going?"
"We're all going."
He sat back, still holding the box while the kid eyed him nervously. "You go ahead. I mean, this isn't exactly your scene anyway. But I'm hanging in."
"You just don't get it, do you? You think Blondie is just going to let you wander back put across the river with all the horse you can carry?"
Farmer smiled. "Shit, maybe she wants me to move in. I think she likes me. I get that very definite feeling."
"Yeah, and the two of you could adopt Tadpole here, and Stacey and Priscilla and George can come over for Sunday roast."
The kid shot me a dirty look. Farmer shrugged. "Hey, somebody's got to be out there, takin' care of the distribution."
"And she throws out Joe to make room for you, right?" I said.
"Oh, yeah, Joe." Farmer tried to think. "Well, hell, this is a big place. There's room for three. More, even." He giggled again.
" Farmer . I don't think many people see this place and live."
He yawned widely, showing his coated tongue. "Hey, ain't we all lucky, then."
"No. We're not lucky."
Farmer stared at me for a long moment. Then he laughed. "Shit, You're crazy."
The door at the far end of the room opened again and the woman came out. "Here he is!" she announced cheerfully and pulled Joe into the room.
My brother Joe, the original lost boy, the disposable man in an ankle-length bathrobe knotting loosely at the waist, showing his bony chest. The curly brown hair was cleaner than it had been the last time I'd seen him but duller and thinner, too. His eyes seemed to be sunk deep in the sockets and his skin looked dry and flaky. But he was steady on his bare feet as he came towards me.
"Joe," I said. "It's me, Chi"
"I know, babe, I know." He didn't even change expression. "What the fuck?"
"I got your card."
"Shit. I told you, it was for the last time."
I blinked at him. "I came home because I thought" I stopped, looking at the woman who was still smiling as she moved behind the bar and poured a little cognac into a glass.
"Well, go on," she said. "Tell him what you thought. And have your cognac. You should warm the bowl between your hands."
I shook my head slightly, looking down at the plush carpet. It was also beige. Not much foot traffic around here. "I thought you needed me to do something. Help you or something."
"I was saying goodbye, babe. That's all. I thought I should, you know, after everything you seen me through. I figured, what the hell, one person in the world who ever cared what happened to me, I'd say goodbye. Fucking parents don't care if they never see me again. Rose, Aurelia — like, forget it."
I looked up at him. He still hadn't changed expression. He might have been telling me it was going to snow again this winter.
"Have your cognac," the woman said to me again. "You warm the bowl between your hands like this." She demonstrated and then held the glass out to me. When I didn't move to take it, she put it down on the bar. "Perhaps you'll feel like it later." She hurried over to the couch where Farmer and the kid were rifling the syringes and the spoons. Joe took a deep breath and let it out in a not-quite sigh.
"I can tell her to let you go," he said. "She'll probably do it."
" Probably?" I said.
He made a helpless, impotent gesture with one hand. "What the fuck did you come here for?"
"For you, asshole. What the fuck did you come here for?"
Bending over the coffee table, the woman looked back at us. "Are you going to answer that, Joe? Or shall I?"
Joe turned towards her slightly and gave a little shrug. "Will you let her go?"
That smile. "Probably."
Farmer was holding up a syringe. "Hey, I need some water. And a cooker. You got a spoon? And some cloth."
"Little early for your next fix, isn't it?" I said.
"Why wait?" He patted the box of junk cuddled in his lap.
The woman took the syringe from him and set it on the table. "You won't need any of that. We kept it around for those who have to be elsewhere — say, if you had an appointment to keep or if Joe were running an errand — but here we do it differently."
"Snort?" Farmer was disgusted. "Lady, I'm way past the snort stage."
She gave a refined little laugh and moved around the coffee table to sit down beside him. "Snort. How revolting. There's no snorting here. Take off your jacket."
Farmer obeyed, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch. She pushed up his left shirtsleeve and studied his arm.
"Hey, China," Farmer said, watching the woman with junkie avidity, "gimme your belt."
"No belt," said the woman. "Sit back, relax. I'll take care of everything." She touched the inside of his elbow with two fingers and then ran her hand up to his neck. "Here is actually a lot better."
Farmer looked nervous. "In the neck? You sure you know what you're doing? Nobody does it in the neck."
"It's not an easy technique to master but it's far superior to your present methods. Not to mention faster and far more potent."
"Well, hey." Farmer laughed, still nervous. "More potent, sure, I'm for that."
" Relax" the woman said, pushing his head back against the couch. "Joe's done it this way a lot of times, haven't you, Joe?"
I looked at his neck but I didn't see anything, not even dirt.
The woman loosened Farmer's collar and pushed his hair back, ignoring the fact that it was badly in need of washing. She stroked his skin with her fingertips, making a low, crooning noise, the kind of sound you'd use to calm a scared puppy. "There, now," she murmured, close to Farmer's neck. "There it is, there's our baby. All nice and strong. That's a good one."
Farmer moaned pleasurably and reached for her but she caught his hand and held it firmly on his thigh.
"Don't squirm around now," she said. "This won't take long. Not very long."
She licked his neck.
I couldn't believe it. Farmer's dirty old neck. I'd have licked the sidewalk first. And this woman — I looked at Joe but he was watching the woman run her tongue up Farmer's neck and still no expression on him, as though he were watching a dull TV programme he'd already seen.
Farmer's eyelids were at half-mast. He gave a small laugh. "Tickles a little."
The woman pulled back and then blew on the spot gently.
"There now. We're almost ready." She took the box of heroin from his lap.
I didn't want to see this. I looked at Joe again. He shook his head slightly, keeping his gaze on the woman. She smiled at me, scooped up a small amount of heroin and put it in her mouth.
"Fucking lowlife," I said, but my voice sounded far away. The woman nodded, as if to tell me I had it right and then, fast, like a snake striking, she clamped her mouth on Farmer's neck.
Farmer jumped slightly, his eyes widening. Then he went completely slack, only the woman's mouth on him holding him up.
I opened my mouth to yell, but nothing came out. As though there was a field around me and Joe that kept us still.
She seemed to stay like that on Farmer's neck for ever. I stood there, unable to look away. I'd watched Farmer and Joe and the rest of them fix countless times. The scene played in my brain, the needle sliding into skin, probing, finding the vein and the blood tendriling in the syringe when it hit. Going for the boot because it made the rush better. Maybe this made the rush better for both of them.
Time passed and left us all behind. I'd thought it was too soon to fix again, but yeah, it would figure that she'd have to get them while they were still fucked up, so they'd just sit there and take it. Hey, was that last fix a little strange? — Strange? What's strange? Nod.
Then the woman drew her head back a little and I saw it. A living needle, like a stinger. I wished I were a fainter so I could have passed out, shut the picture off, but she held my gaze as strongly as she held Farmer. I'd come to see Joe and this was part of it, package deal. In another part of my mind, I was screaming and yelling and begging Joe to take us both out of there, but that place was too far away, in some other world where none of this was possible.