Merriton

“I heard you got outta jail.” Curly was face to face with Ricky Townsend. His hands were full of garbage bags. He walked over to the bear-proof dumpster and carefully unlocked it. Ricky had always been skinny, but he was way skinnier than he was when they were teenagers. Even skinnier than when they were out of high school. Angie was in the cafe. Ricky was prowling around the dumpsters like a starving cat.

“Summa us go to jail. Summa us get outta jail free.” Curly shook his head and threw the bags into the dumpster before closing it carefully. “Which one are you?” Ricky slinked around and closed the door to the cafe. Curly didn’t want Angie to know that he had seen Ricky, so he was just fine with the closed door. Ricky hissed, “Question is, which one are YOU.” Curly leaned against the dumpster. “Guess I got a get outta jail free card. Don’t think I ever thanked you for not rattin’ me out. Everybody knew I was probably with ya, but you took the rap. You get clean?”

Ricky asked, “Sure. Sure, I’m clean.” Curly could tell that he wasn’t. The sunken and red eyes and the emaciated frame told him that Ricky was still using. “Smells like you’re still usin’.” Ricky’s shifty eyes watched the cars driving past Mt. Zen Cafe. “Then why’d ya ask?” Curly walked to the back door of the cafe. He leaned against it, listening for Angie. “Just wanted ya to know that I know.”

The two men watched each other. Curly was impatient to get back into the cafe where he belonged. “You got Roscoe all up in a bunch. He got another ranger hired to parole the mountain watchin’ for you. The little guy’s scared shitless. Probably shoot ya without even askin’ questions, he’s so nervous.” Ricky shrugged. “I better stay away from the mountain, then.” Curly ran his hand over his bald head and glanced at the door again. “What do ya want?”

Ricky’s eyes squinted, looking Curly up and down. “You on ‘roids?” Curly suddenly felt conscious of his muscle-bound body. He awkwardly tried to hide his large arms. “No. Got these fair and square. You should try it. Liftin’ is better than drugs, sometimes.” Ricky laughed. “When’s that?” Curly could remember it all, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. Was it true? Was his life better now than when he was in a stupor with Ricky trying to forget his best friend? “The highs aren’t as high, but the lows aren’t that low. When ya average it out, it’s better.”

Curly could hear Angie in the cafe, heading toward the door. “What do you want?” The urgency in his voice told Ricky that she was approaching. Ricky started to skitter away from the cafe. “I’m havin’ a party next Saturday. Thought ya might wanna come, but I guess you’ll just be liftin’ weights in your basement instead.” Ricky was gone and out of sight by the time Angie opened the door.