“You seem angry,” he said.
“I’m pissed…!”
“I know.”
The dope’s gone; the house is spotless; every pipe’s black and empty.
“He’ll show up.”
The two live together in an apartment inside downtown Houston. It’s not small but neither of them have kids. It’s a two bedroom close to the Galleria mall and it’s comfortable. They have peyote buttons on the balcony outside of the rain: Cyndru thinks they’re cute. “We can’t eat them no matter how big they get.” Peyote takes around five years to harvest and you have to eat ten buttons to get high. “They’re endangered and they grow too slow. Let’s just order Achuma off of the internet.” She’s petite and vegetarian. “Jewls”, her roommate, likes what she cooks, is health conscious, too, but eats fish, knowing it’s brain food. The food in Houston is good and neither of them ever go out. Cheesecake at the Cheesecake Factory, maybe…cheese pizza. They’re not into fake meat, either. Cyndru has a moral dilemma about eating meat. It’s not like they eat much, though. Both are crystal meth addicts. They’re both gay, too.
“Wanna play ‘Devil May Cry’ while we wait?”
“Na,” she said. “We talked an hour ago. Do you think he got pulled over?” Hebrew, their Middle Eastern friend was hanging out and left to get a quarter ounce of glass for Jewls and Cyndru. It should have took thirty to fourty-five minutes. The glass Hebrew gets is always good. Sometimes it’s colored, like yellow or pink, but it’s always see-through. For some reason he’s late.
“Let’s go swimming.”
“Fuck, Jewls, I’m worried!”
They used blue lights inside their apartment and blacked out all the windows. Everything else was casual and formal.
“Call him, then,” Jewls said and scratched his dick. He likes “little sissy boys” and has them come over and get tied up for days sometimes.
Cyndru starts dialing the number.
She laughs because she thinks it’s kinky, but Jewls just loves sex. He’s into art, too. His room has Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” picture. He says it helps him stay in the mentality that things could be worse. He works as a waiter at The Aquarium. He’s going to school for hotel and restaurant management at The University of Houston main campus. He dresses nice (Lacoste is his favorite) and when he goes out, he has fun, occasionally bringing back some sissy.
No one answered.
“I think he’s in trouble.”
“Give it thirty more minutes. Traffic might be bad.”
“Hoof…! I feel better. Hebrew’s texting me. Said he got pulled over and almost ate a quarter ounce. Lucky he didn’t, he just had a tail light out. The cop gave him a warning and let him off. A whistle was blowing in his head the whole time, he said. When he gets here, we’re smoking and relaxing. I know he’s freaked out.”
“From now on I’m bringing a whistle to parties for good luck.”
“Woah.” She laughed. “He said he’s going to be here in five minutes. I’m going to get everything out. You want some water?”
“Yea, that’s good.”
Cyndru walked to the kitchen and pulled out three cartons of coconut water. It has nutrients in it. Better than spring water. She put them on the coffee table in the living room by Jewls and left to grab a pipe and a mini torch—the whole time stressing her hands on her head and pulling her hair without noticing.
Jewls unlocked the door for Hebrew when he showed up and he walked in and started dancing to Fatboy Slim on the radio. He was happy and he was smiling and dancing. Jewls laughed, “HaHaHaaa!”
“Fuck the police,” Hebrew says. “Uh. Fuck the police. Uh. Uh. Fuck the police.”
“Yay! You made it!” Cyndru screams and runs to give him a hug. “I was worried as ever. Jewls said he’s going to bring a whistle to parties for good luck.”
“Good idea….” He throws out the glass on the table next to the pipe and grabs some cold water. “Damn, this stuff’s tasty.”
They smoke all night.
They play Twisted Metal, Grand Theft Auto and Resident Evil for hours (games), dance, hang out and link up until Hebrew decides he has to make another run.
“See yah, Hebrew!” Cyndru says.
“See yah, guy,” Jewls says and Hebrew waves goodbye as he leaves the door.
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