Criminal Law

Jefferson

I do not have to go buy donuts. The man would never remember if I didn't. He's too busy worrying about his eyebrows falling out to bother with anything other than work and chemo. He looks like an egg. That amuses me. "Look everyone! Our managing director is an egg!" I silently revel in his crumbling health. I unfortunately need more security than a simple tumor.
Most of the donuts on the street are only about 20% pure. A man like Ellison will never notice what the other 80% is. Luckily my hookup has got some quality product. Easily 50% or more. This will be easy. I meet Trixie behind a defunct Denny's now filled with the human refuse of the big city. We're well onto Staten Island, and the trip always leaves me irritated, but her supply is worth it.
She smells like sweat and shame, masked by the whispers of several different colognes. She aimlessly scratches the destroyed inside of her parchment-colored arm. Her turn in response to my approach is jerky and sudden, her back twisting with the imprecise rapidness of a woman unused to this life. Her veins and teeth tell me that such wetness behind the ears is only an illusion: a virtue of her paranoia. Donuts are hardly her only vice. She seems to also be on both the pipe and the needle. How did a burned out whore like this get such an incredible supply? I have no idea, but incredible it is. "Hiya Jeffy" she manages, fidgeting. She always calls me that. Who shortens Alec Jefferson to "Jeffy"? Who uses "Jeffy" as a name at all? "You can't stand bein 'way from my sweet ass for more than five hours, is that it Jeffy?" She squeaks in her normal jittery way. "How much you need?" She asks, darting to face behind her as one of the medley of homeless men shifts in his near-comatose sleep. "Two grams of the good stuff, in separate balloons." Hell, while I'm here I may as well get a gram for myself. "You got it Jeffy", the bitch wheezes "that'll be $250". Most expensive stuff in the city, but worth every penny. "Throw in an extra $30 and I'll jump in that car of yours."
If I ever accept her offer for sex, I'll personally tell Johnny to stop the car on the way back in the middle of the Verrazano so I can jump off. "No thanks, Trixie, I'm good without herpes, but maybe next time." I hear her mutter an indecipherable insult as I walk back to my car.