The bus pulled up smoothly, the scene interrupted by the loud screeching of the jake-brake. Ashley nearly leapt up the steps before the door had even opened all the way. Flashing her bus-pass, she quickly settled into a middle seat, setting her bag beside her so as to ward off potential seatmates.
Her blood pumped furiously with adrenalin as the bus route weaved toward the Arts District. In her head, she planned out the places she intented to scope for potential pushers.
The first stop would be the park next to the art museum -- midmorning, plenty of resident artist types would be sitting around the fountain sipping seven dollar mochachinos.
And if no source was to be found there, she opted to continue on to the street mall only a few blocks down from the park. The street mall, affectionately called Hazy Lane, was a popular haunt for performing street artists, down-and-out circus performers. and other such social misfits panhandling for a living.
She couldn't remember a time when she had had to look so hard for a fix. With Riley, it had always been one phone call and a quick delivery to their flat.
Riley.
No time to think about the past.
She walked briskly from the busy street to the park, the iron gates singing as if to take her in from the harshness of Downtown.
The trees hung low and soft on the shadowed sidewalk, creating a surreal tunnel of foliage and shrubbery. The light tinted green as it filtered through the leaves, falling across the sidewalk in veins of light and shadow.
A bit further down the path, the trees opened into a clearing, the center of which was a large stone fountain.
The round base curved down into the basin, then shot upward in concrete waves, what appeared to be an oversized halibut riding the crest, water bubbling from its pursed fish-lips. A moist cigarette butt stood upright on the head, a tar stain creeping down the side.
She sighed in relief as she noticed a tall, thin man standing to the side of the crowd of young students, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes darted from side to side; paranoia.
Gathering up her courage and every sort of small talk she had ever heard, she strolled up beside him as if it were the most natural thing for her to do.
His head barely turned at her presence, but she could see he was looking her over out of the corner of his eye.
"Haven't seen you around here before," he said, bringing a rolled cigarette to his lips. "New in the area?"
"You could say that," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Mind if I bum a drag?"
"The tobacco's pretty shitty," he chuckled, licking his finger and correcting a crease in the paper. "But the roll's pretty good."
He handed her the cigarette, watching her as she inhaled on it. She opened her mouth and let the smoke curl out, then quickly inhaled through her nose. He smiled.
"You like to party, New Girl?"
She tried to hide her excitement.
"That's actually why I came here," she replied coolly. "Maybe you could get me some blow or some K?"
"Oh, a hardcore." His hand snaked around her shoulder. "I like that in a girl."
Ashley pushed the urge to bolt out of her mind and focused on the benefits of leading this stranger on. She bit her lip coyly.
"I've only got enough for a gram -- can you get me that much?" Ashley peered up into his gaunt face, forcing a smile.
"Anything for you, New G-- what's your name?" His hand moved from her shoulder to her waist. "Mine's Geoff."
"Ashley," she shimmied out of his grasp. "The sooner we have that G, the sooner we can party."
"Determined. Fiendish, even." He laughed, turning to a curly-haired young woman beside him.
Their heads bent low in conversation, Ashley noticed the woman glance at her from behind Geoff's stringy mane of hair. A few hushed words were exchanged and Geoff emerged smiling. He grabbed his backpack and pointed to a bike laying next to a tree.
"You ride handlebars?"
Four or five hours later, right as the last bell rang across town at Degrassi Community School, Ashley was just coming out a K-hole. THe entire afternoon had been devoted to the purchase of a gram of cocaine, which was quickly snorted into nonexistance, followed by courtesy bumps of K from Geoff's personal stash.
Her body had tingled to the point that she shook as the familiar feeling of complete and total inebriation washed over her. At first, she hadn't expected much -- it was only a gram between two people and she was far from a lightweight.
She hadn't counted on her sobriety having lowered her tolerance.
Within the first few lines, she had more energy than ever before. Her pupils were dilated and every color seemed brighter, every sound, louder.
The open studio apartment that seemed to be Geoff's -- she really didn't know -- smelled of pot and human urine. The seedy, busted mattress on the floor served as a couch, with the two of them sitting side by side as he made the bumps and lines.
She giggled softly as he pushed a bump into a nearly perfect circle with a bank-card. He pinched a bit between his thumb and forefinger, dropping it into the center.
"Ha, target," he chuckled stupidly, handing her the quartered straw. "Want the bulls-eye?"
"Ah, no, I really shouldn't. I have to get going," Ashley pushed it away, running a hand through her hair. "I got to meet somebody and pretend I was at school today."
"Oh! Bust-ed!" Geoff laughed raucously, his heaving laughs sending bits of powder shooting across the table.
"Funny," she frowned jokingly, pushing herself onto her feet. "Hey, standing's a lot harder than it looked."
She fell back down on the mattress, bouncing lightly against the rusted fabric.
"Let's try that again," she sighed, pushing up once more, slower this time.
"No, really, I think the bull's eye is calling you," Geoff pushed the stray grains back into the mound. He sat at eye-level with the bull's eye. "Ashley...Ashley...snort me...please, snort me!"
She laughed, stumbling over once more.
"Oh, I shouldn't have had that K." She mumbled, falling backwards on the mound of soiled sheets -- she assumed from the smell that they were dirty.
"You can't even stand up," Geoff laughed in short fits, struggling to speak. "I hate it to break it to you, sister, but I don't think you're going to make it."
"Aye, Captain!" She winked one eye and stuck out her lower lip; pirate.
She set her bag down, getting comfy on the mattress; she really didn't see herself getting anywhere, much less mustering the energy to move.
"If you're staying, it's only common courtesy to have a little bump. Tiny. Miniscule. Molecular, even." Geoff offered her the straw once more.
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Geoff." She took it and placed it in her nostril, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the line. "A hard bargain."
"I do my best," he laughed, clapping in a very effeminate manner as the grains shot into her nose.
Ashley inhaled sharply even after the line was gone. Every time she inhaled, more grains that had been trapped in her nose shot back and down easily, like water running down her throat.
Her nose and lips began to feel like gummy, wet plastic. Geoff curled his lanky body next to hers, his feet pulls up beneath him. His arm lazily moved up her own.
"Hey, Geoff, I think you got the wrong idea..." Ashley started lazily, her tongue feeling about four times too big for her mouth. "I'm not like that."
"Oh, no, I think you have the wrong idea," he replied coolly, drumming his fingers on her forearm. "You see, new friend, I am of the homosexual variety, so do not fear me as you would others of my gender."
He waved his arm out in a grand gesture, but somehow managed to overturn a water bottle and a couple of old dishes on the table. Ashley couldn't help but burst out laughing harder than she had in quite some time.
The entire ordeal, situation, placement was suddenly hilarious.
At Geoff's confession, Ashley suddenly sat up, peering into his eyes.
"Hey, do you know Marco Del Rossi?" She whispered very conspiratorially, as if Marco's sexuality were the biggest secret in the world.
"Not personally," Geoff sighed, "But I think I slept with his boyfriend."
Ashley burst into another fit of laughter, laughing until she could barely breathe.
When she had calmed down, she glanced out of the window at the darkening sky. Had she been away that long?
"What time is it?" She asked cooly, pulling her legs underneath her.
"It's..." Geoff checked his cellphone. "About eight o'clock."
"I gotta run, then, I shouldn't have stayed this long anyway.. Craig's probably worried..." She spoke quickly; it didn't seem so late!"
"Um, it's eight o'clock, yea," Geoff started, pushing himself up on his elbows, "In the morning."