He had all the supplies ready to go. Spread out like a crystal-meth buffet. About a year ago, he’d given me my first hit, looking for someone to party with. It was a slippery slope. Pretty soon, I was hanging around outside his house, waiting for him to come home from work. He was careful, only shooting crystal on weekends, so he could crash the next day. I’d learned his schedule. Lots of times, he bought enough for both of us. If I had cash on me, I’d pay him back, but he was cool if I couldn’t quite cover it. Cheez was a good guy. I passed Cheez a handful of change. Added up to ten dollars. I’d panhandled all day by the gas station, breathing in the fumes, so I wouldn’t come empty-handed. He took it and snorted. “That all you got?” Rolling up my sleeve, I could almost taste the speed. My teeth ached with want of it. “I can get more next time, man. How much do you want?” “You owe me twenty from last weekend and another thirty from the week before.
