You ’ re a loser .
If someone has the balls to steal the drugs , I ’ m not too concerned . I ’ m a small-time operation , so I wouldn ’ t lose that much . But I feel pretty certain the drugs will remain untouched for two reasons .
One : I ’ ve struck fear into the hearts of all the staff and the regulars in the bar who have witnessed the beatings I ’ ve inflicted upon people who have crossed my path . People are afraid of me , and they don ’ t want to take a chance on what might happen if I ever caught wind of someone even thinking about touching my property . They know that I ’ m clearly a ticking time bomb and nobody wants to see me go off .
Two : They believe there are very real , very unacceptable consequences if my cocaine ever went missing . If that were to happen , they believe there is the possibility that the crazy train might stop . Nobody wants the crazy train to stop .
I return to the front doors where I am met by Randal who then leads the way behind the main counter . He opens a door with a glued-on bronze plaque at eye level that reads , STAFF ONLY . I follow Randal and we ascend a dimly lit set of old wooden stairs that rise to a staff lounge on the second floor .
The landing at the top of the stairs is almost as dark as the pitch-black room we enter . Randal continues to lead the way , reaching around the corner and groping momentarily until he finds the light switch on the wall . The illumination from the lone bulb in the center of the room confirms what the smells of rancid booze , puke , rotten food and who knows what else inspires as soon as we ' d begun our descent of the stairs , only increasing in intensity as we enter the lounge .
An ancient looking and heavily stained carpet lines the floor , and ashtrays , empty beer cans and liquor bottles are strewn about , giving evidence of the room ’ s main usage and the fact that the hotel cleaning staff never venture this far . A mismatching loveseat and sofa are pushed up against opposite walls . They are stained with God-knows-what and both Randal and I are far too sober to sit down there , so we pull up two wooden chairs and sit opposite one another at a small table in the corner of the room .
I drop the bag containing the folded pouches of cocaine onto the table and Randal reaches in and removes one of the paper pouches . I sit back in the chair smoking and watch dispassionately as Randal uses a scrunched piece of newspaper to scrub off a section of the dirty table and then pour out one of the pouches . The white powder pours out smoothly and forms a small pile . Randal reaches into his pocket for his wallet , takes out his driver ’ s licence and starts to chop the pile up with the edge of the card .
He then splits the pile into two strips that look like mini snowbanks . He removes a bill from his wallet , rolls it into a straw and hands it to me . I take a final , long drag of my cigarette , inhale deeply and take the bill from Randal .
You ’ re a pathetic , drug addicted loser .
I snort like a pig , harking up a large lugey of snot from my nose and throat and spit it into the carpet , rubbing it in with my foot as though I ’ m wiping shit off the sole of my shoe . I put the rolled-up bill in my nose and lean over one of the lines of coke and snort . I get half of it up my nose before I need to stop and sit up . Randal is smiling but he says nothing . I take another breath and lean down to snort the rest of the coke up my nose and then hand the bill to Randal who snorts his whole line up easily through his big Italian nostrils .
“ How much is there ?” Randall asks in his deep voice as we sit back for a moment and let the buzz come over us .
“ The same as always ”, I reply , “ Minus what we just did ”.