Tag Archives: drugs

Teaser.

I’m writing a novel about bees and crystal meth. (Not bees on crystal meth. Shudder.) Here’s a teaser.

beeeeeeee

Unlike me, Doug has no reservations about offering up his life story. “I jacked a car and needed to get away from the cops. I’m from Surrey. It’s a fucking war zone there, man. I was selling meth too, it was just a matter of time before I ended up on the inside.”

“Fascinating.” Donna hands him a smoke. “Ember here is getting away from drugs too.”

“Donna!” Traitor.

“Really?” Doug sneers. “You don’t look like the type. What was it, coke?”

“Ritalin,” I say somewhat sheepishly, though I’m not sure why.

“That’s a good drug,” Doug says.

“That’s what I said!” Donna chimes in.

“I’d be dead without it.” Doug grins at her.

“You and my son both, kid.”

They high five. I’m not about to explain myself to some thug kid from Surrey, so I take a bite of my sandwich. Now I’m almost positive he’s the lawnmower thief. How could he not be?

I don’t have to wait long for affirmation. “Thanks for not ratting on me with Meg by the way,” he says to me.

“So that was you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He shrugs.

“And you’re just gonna put it out there like it’s no big thing”

“Sure,” Donna says, “ride on mowers go missing all the time.”

“Would’a got away with it too, if it didn’t run out of gas.”

“What the hell were you going to do with it?” Donna says. “Sell it at the farmer’s market?

“Nah. Craigslist.”

We’re all quiet for a moment, exhaling smoke, wondering where to go next. With Donna, you never have to wonder very long.

“So, planning on stealing anything else while you’re here?”

“Nah,” Doug says. “That was just a relapse. I’m gonna lay low and just work for awhile. Thanks again, Ember.”

Bargaining Phase.

Okay, let’s be honest here, after nine years
of being high, is it any surprise that in your tenth
year, you get clean, look at the person you’ve spent
nine years being high with, and you want nothing
to do with him anymore? Who the hell is that guy?
I’ll tell you. He’s the guy you married on a cold west coast
beach, with bare feet and fog in your hair. You had to have
a morning wedding. Your bridesmaids played singing bowls,
rang a spooky tone across the sand as you and your dad
approached. I was the guy waiting there, in a suit with no tie.
No shoes. I was shivering, do you remember? The archway
we’d spent all night setting up? The enormous mole
on the officiant’s face? We’d been high the day before,
and we’d get high the day after, but that day we were clean.