Stepping Over

“Fuckin gerbils!”

Haden passed the bong across the table, not quite sure who’s turn came next… and certainly uncaring at this point. 

Larry grabbed first, but that meant little.

“Why the hell you gotta mention fuckin gerbils in the middle of a draw like that dude?  I got bong water all over me!”  Haden needed the laugh, but the bong water?  Do you know how bad that shit smells?

“I don’t know if he ever practiced in that art or not Larry… I think you might have more insider knowledge than me.”  The wink along the way calmed Larry’s fear, but at the same time, the comment itself commanded his silence for a few minutes.

“So tell me Doc, what’s this gonna mean to me if I decide to go that route?”

“$225 an ounce.”

“Are you shitting me?  I still gotta move it, take the risks man.  Which night last week was it you thought I was born on?”

“$180”

“$175?”

“Deal.”

“Ok Doc, so now we got that settled, I feel a whole lot better.”  Haden let out a long breath, that last bong hit had given him the courage, but the effects were starting to hit hard.  He knew that he had just passed the first hurdle… but he wasn’t outta the woods just yet.

Doc wandered over to the window, not a long walk.  Looking out over the channel, he was thinking in his own mind that mixing business and pleasure was a bad idea.  The stuff was better than normal.  He was still making money though, what did he care?  One thing for sure, he damn sure wasn’t smoking with the next guy he had coming in tomorrow.

Haden rose out of his chair.  Not quite believing it had come to this, the moment was a little bitter sweet.

“See Doc, the thing is, I know we agreed on $250 per for 2 pounds.  But I ain’t got it.  Matter of fact, all I have is exactly enough to give you $175 per, exactly what we just agreed to for a 20 pound order.  You ain’t known me long, don’t owe me shit, and probably could give a shit less, but I figure if you can do 20 at 175, you can do 2.  I need it to get the start Doc.  I just told you where I am right now.”

Doc stared at the water, wishing his boat was running.  $75 an ounce.  $75 an ounce less than they had agreed on already.

“Fuck it.  Ok.”  Doc would still have enough cash to fix the damn boat.  There would still be 18 pounds left, and he had three more guys coming in this week anyway. “But don’t get stupid with me and try that shit again later.  From now on, we agree on a price, it’s the fucking price!  I’m gonna cut your ass a break, cause I had people do it for me too when I first got down here.  But it’s a one time thing Haden, don’t be confused.”

Doc was not entirely certain that the quality of his own product had not just cost him a lot of money, but really, who gave a shit?  He grew the stuff in that old trailer he had the old whore rent for $800 a month.  She kept her mouth shut as long as the booze lasted and the rent was free, and Doc was able to carry on as he needed to, when he need to.

Haden smiled, opening the grinder.  One more hit seemed appropriate at the moment.  Larry’s wink let him know that he concurred.

It had been a long week for Haden.  He was experiencing several new Firsts for his life.  Well, that had been going on pretty regular here lately, so maybe it wasn’t quite so outstanding.

Just since his move a few months prior, Haden had found so many new things to add to his life experiences list.

This week, for the first time in his life, Haden found himself dealing with a pissed off faggot.  Having never spent much time around one, working for one was a change to say the least.  Haden had no problems to speak of with their choice of sexual orientation, he just was repulsed by the thought.

Haden figured they had the right to do what they want, but he wanted NO part of it.  See no evil, Hear no evil, Speak no evil.

Well… now he had one that was just as illogical as a woman.  At this point, the issue no longer mattered as to why the faggot was pissed, only whether Haden would be forced to kick his ass to shut him up or not.

Regardless of why, Haden was unemployed, again.  A pattern was beginning to develop.  But this time, there was a difference.  This time, Haden was broke.

This time… this time Haden was desperate.




II


32 years he made it without even a good whiff.

Now, two years later, he was buying in bulk, with every intent to distribute.

Funny how life takes you places you never intended to go.

Haden grew up in rural Southwest Georgia.  It was a small town, with small town ways, and limited exposure to certain elements.  Sure, they were there, they are everywhere… but it was easy to resist.  Nancy Reagan saw to that.

A few years at college, with aspirations, hopes, and dreams to keep him straight.  Then the Navy.  Along the way he met that special woman, and it just never even seemed to occur to him to want to try it. 

Shit happens.  Things change.

Sure, Haden knew his habits held him back in things, but most days, it just didn’t seem to matter much.  For 10 years now, the one thing he could always count on was for it to get worse.  It was not difficult to justify it to himself.

This was different.  This was working on the other end of the supply/demand relationship.  This was the jail time side of the equation instead of the public humiliation side. 

Haden had considered the possibilities before.  Many times.  Hell, Haden had even considered selling it before he considered using it.

It took desperation to get here.

It took desperation to get over the image of his son, one day holding a scrapbook clipping of Haden’s arrest picture from the paper.

“humph…”  Haden found amusement in his own mind for the moment.  He did not miss the irony in where he found himself this day, and unlike most people, found that laughing at himself was easy.

The sun rose over the eastern channel of his small world.  It was a new day, with a very new activity coming on.  A bowl or two of crumbled courage was in order.  Today was going to really let him know what was inside.  Was it in him to lead this life… or would this be the day regrets are made from?




III

Success is relative. 

It was a fact that he had to remind himself of from time to time.

There had been those days where it was measured by the dollars in his account.  There had even been a time it was measured by numbers of smiles.

Most days now, Haden measured success by how few times he could find a reason to leave his couch.

Hiding in his inner sanctum, Haden was sheltered from the world he had come to distrust.  He was safe from contact with the next person he could only count on to let him down.  Mostly, Haden was just safe from having to fake his way through another day. 

Haden was too depressed to even fake it anymore.

As the traffic opened ever so slightly on US 1, he took the opportunity and gunned it into the flow.  25 miles now.  “Get ur head straight…” he mumbled to himself. 

Today, success would be measured by balls.  For the first time, he was gonna find out if he had enough.

Sure… every man questions himself about it.  Some even test it.  But few ever make the choice willingly.  Its that damn desperation thing that gets em.

You can take away just about everything from a man.  They can take it.  Hell, most men don’t become men at all until they find themselves tested.

But there is a point that can’t be crossed.  After that, hell, he is just broken.  After that, you might as well bury him. 
When a man finds his back against that line, well, little things like laws just don’t matter as much.  Nothing much at all matters except defending that fucking line.

Haden had his back against it alright.  It was something he couldn’t stop thinking about.  It was a thought that never was far from the front of his mind.

Well dammit, this time Haden could defend the line.  This time, he decided to play offense, and the play was in motion.

“Speak of the devil… “ Haden muttered.  The cell phone rang as if on cue.

“Hey”

“I need an answer.”

“I don’t have it yet.”

“Its two damn weeks Haden, you realize that, right?”

“I know.”

“This is bullshit, Haden.  You can’t keep doing this shit.  I need an answer now.”

“Fine.”

“Lauderdale like we talked about?”

“Yeah.  I’ll call you and tell you exactly where closer to the day.”

“…and the money?”

“I’ll have it.”  As he hung up, it seemed to Haden that there must be a constant battle in that mind between the sides of greed and insensitivity. 

Well… that settled it anyway.  He was committed now.  Two weeks.

Its ok.  It only takes balls now  14 miles to go.  Dobie Gray commanded him to “Drift away”, but he found it difficult this time.






IV



Her hair was blonde, currently styled, but you could tell she once did it like Farrah.  He was not really sure how old she was, nor was he sure he wanted to know.  It made it easier to go to her if things like age didn’t become an issue.

“100’s ?”

“Yep.  And throw in one of your cheapest lighters.  I seem to go through em too damn fast lately.  Matter-of-fact… give me 2 of em.”

“Gonna drop by to see me later?”

Haden paused.  Making plans for tonight seemed a little premature at the moment.  What the hell, he thought, if I get this done, I need to release the pressure.  And if I don’t…

He figured Angela would find out why he didn’t show up soon enough anyway, if he didn’t make it back.

“Sure… ‘bout 10:30...”

Haden took his coffee and cigarettes and left the Dion‘s.  How he had run out of cigarettes at this moment, he wasn’t really sure.  But seeing her face did somehow lift his spirits.  He damn sure didn’t love Angela… but she reminded him that passion did still exist.  Sometimes it was the passion that got him by.

As Haden opened his Explorer door, the White and Blue Jimmy pulled in the lot.  Haden fought the urge to be frozen… choosing rather to hurry his pace, despite the distinct tightening he felt in his sphincter .  Unsure if the dog was in the Jimmy today or not, it was an unwanted added thought.

Pointing the Explorer again south, he began to focus.  The haunting “woo hoo”  call from the Stones Sympathy For The Devil was a little too chilling for the moment.  Maybe a little Toby Keith would set his mind right.  Something about the “boot in your ass” line always made him a little more resolved and ready for whatever came next.  That and a shot of Wild Turkey.

Finding a station, Haden really could have saved the effort.  Too many things in his mind now were drowning out the music.  Too many things that could go wrong.  Too many possible things to tear his world apart. 

Would his son forgive him if he were caught and arrested?  That was the one.  Sure, Haden always joked around and said it was the thought of getting fucked in the ass in the shower, but that’s just the reason men give to hide the real ones.  But… it would suck. 

Well, either way… just don’t get caught… that’s the best place to start.

Key West lay just ahead now.  It was happening, as surreal as it seemed, it was happening. 

Haden’s mind raced through the possibilities, and temporary insanity would be an accurate description of the event.  He knew Larry.  Larry knew Carl.  Carl knew Thompson. 

“…too many degrees of separation”

Too damn late to change that now.  He was too pressed to get this done.  It  had to happen now.  The opportunity was here, and it he might not get another in time.

“… tuff shit”

The Explorer pulled into the Home Depot.  Thompson would be in a black jeep.  Maybe he wouldn’t show.  Maybe he would get spooked himself and back out.  Maybe…

Thompson wheeled the jeep through the slim opening, bringing it to a stop with his driver’s side door next to Haden’s. 

Reality had arrived.