Page 75 of A Fabulously Unfabulous Summer for Henry Milch

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Queens Way Mobile Home Park was a tiny trailer park with only one street running around the park in a perfect square. Ronnie Sheck lived in Number 15, a baby blue singlewide with a pop-out attached part-way down.

The wind had begun to blow, sounding vaguely like a runaway train, slapping me in the face like a damp towel when I climbed out of Nana’s Escalade. I walked up to Ronnie’s metal door and knocked.

After a moment, he opened the door. Ronnie looked ridiculously young (fifteen) for his age (early thirties), with freckles, scraggly hair full of cowlicks and very little in the way of facial hair. It was like he’d reached a certain age and simply stopped.

“I remember you. You bought some pot and a few Oxy. That was a while ago. Where you been?”

“I had a little car accident that night.”

“Oh, that was you. Wow. You hurt yourself?”

“A bit. Yeah.”

“And they don’t want to give you any more pills, do they? I can give you twenty tens for a hundred and twenty-five.”

Given that I was getting more than I was using from Dr. Blinski for about seventy-five bucks, most of which was the visit, that was a definite no go.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Who’s your doctor? Blinski?”

“Um, yeah.”

“That rat bastard is going to put me out of business.” Then he cocked his head. “Unless you wanna sell some?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks for ten pills.”

Obviously, the markup was steep.

“Really, no.”

“So why are you here?”

“Do you know anything about Reverend Hessel using methamphetamine?”

“I might.”

“Did he like to play and party?”

He got quiet. Crap, I was going to have to give him pills. That was the only way I’d get information out of him. But I didn’t want to. Yeah, I had a couple pills in my pocket for an emergency and still had a bunch at home. But. I mean. There was a principle here. I didn’t want to just hand over…

“I’ve got two tens on me. That’s it.”

He held out his hand. Reluctantly, I reached into a pocket and put the foil-wrapped pills into his palm.

“So yeah, I’ve heard the good reverend liked to PNP.” He shrugged. “Each to his own, you know?”

“Who’d you hear it from?”

He shook his head and said, “Not for a couple of measly tens. Sorry.”

And then he slammed the door in my face. That’s it? That’s all I got for my pills? I pounded on the door but gave up after a minute or two. What an asshole.

I got backto Masons Bay around three. My plan was to get Denny to cut my hair. Ridiculous, I know. It had only been a week since my last haircut. I’d probably come out bald, but I really needed to talk to him and it seemed the safest way.