Brett ran a finger down Jo’s naked belly.
“Jo’s so paranoid – I can’t believe what he did a while back.”
“What did he do?” Noi reached for the cut straw in Brett’s hand and handed it to Jo. Light had been seeping through the Venetian blinds, slowly, and now it cast spears on Brett’s cream carpet. “Fucking hell – he turned my place upside down. I don’t think you should smoke base anymore, Jo. He’s been convinced, for the past few weeks that the police are after him – why the hell would they be following you around, man?”
Jo scooped up white powder from a small Ziploc bag and ‘bumped’ it, holding the cocaine to his nose and snorting it from the straw. Quick. Efficient. He passed it to Noi, and she did the same.
“Fucking hell, he taped all the curtains together and stuffed these pillows under the door. Then, he turned the volume on the music down to about two decibels.” He looked at Jo. “We didn’t notice anything until you switched off all the lights and were like ‘Shut the fuck up, assholes, they are listening behind the door – do you want to get me arrested or something?’ We all cracked up like hell. I shoved a few Zanax down your throat to knock you out until the morning.”
Brett bumped a couple, too, and then reached over to have a sip at his regular – Blue label and soda. “Damn, that guy would be so much fun to freak out.” He winked at Noi. Seeing a streak of white powder on the black sheets, she casually picked it up with her fingertip, rubbing it absent-mindedly on her gums. “Good girl – not wasting any.”
Noi smiled, “I learned from the best.”
Jo and Noi were the regulars, and they often brought along other friends. They came, crashed and went to work as they pleased, helping themselves to Brett’s vast array of drugs and bringing their own to add to the collection. Noi had never tried cocaine before meeting Jo, just a few months ago on board a flight from
She’d called her mother, and told her she’d found a new investment in
“Jo lives right across from me, you know, Noi, but this dope-head hasn’t been home for longer than you’ve been here.” Brett got up, moving to the window. Raising the blinds so that the tops of neighboring towers were visible over the hazy layers of
The two of them had taken to inviting Noi around whenever they found each other’s company too ingrown. She was a new body to explore, and was still fresh enough to cocaine and free-base to be blatantly egotistical and irrational, which greatly amused the pair.
Noi tried ‘Special K’ for the first time two nights ago. She’d decided to sit on Brett’s balcony’s rail and dangle her feet off the heights, to watch the buildings turn into stacks of cars. Brett had rushed out, pulling her back onto the balcony. “Bloody hell, if you want to kill yourself, don’t do it from my fucking balcony. No more K for you.” He prepared her a line on a hot plate. “Here, snort this and sober up.”
Jo and Brett had been watching each other in silence for some time, and Noi took this to be her cue to get dressed and leave the apartment. It was a week before she came back to
Brett dipped a straw into a bag and jerked it at Noi’s nose. “Bump.” She obeyed. Brett moved to her, swaying unstably, his breath heavy with alcohol. She didn’t say anything as he bit at her breasts through her uniform. He’d soon torn them off and was kissing her bare body urgently. Taken by the raw emotion of the moment, Noi tugged at his clothes, strewing them on the marble kitchen floor. As Brett climaxed, a wail, not of delight, but of despair, passed through his lips. The sun set, and Noi, unnerved by his raw emotion, held his head to her chest as he sobbed.
Jo had been holed up in his apartment, smoking base alone for two weeks when Brett took the initiative to go and check up on him. He could hear the clang of cutlery from inside as he stood outside the door. Jo opened the door, pointing a huge butcher knife at his face, as though he didn’t recognize Brett. He’d stared at him for about a minute, while Brett stood frozen, unsure how to react. Then, he threw the knife aside, sending it smashing into a fruit bowl, before jumping onto the balcony and hurling himself over the railing. On the wooden kitchen counter were several photos of Jo standing on his balcony. Each one was pinned down by a knife.
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