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twenty-five f

Secrets

T ry this.” I laid out two lines of coke for Jack. “One of my customers turned me on to it.”

So far, I hadn’t lied.

“You know what I think about cocaine. I hate feeling wired,” he said.

“This guy, Mike, has a business near Trenton. He wants to expand up our way. I told him you might be interested in a partnership. How will you know if the stuff is any good if you don’t try it?”

“Well, okay. Just a taste.”

One line went up his nose, the other up mine.

Jack lay back on the sofa. “Whoa! That’s some powerful shit.”

“I told you—and it’s clean, too. You’ll have a nice buzz going and come down real slow.” I’d done enough lines with Mike to know the quality of his blow.

One taste was all it took. Two days later Jack and Mike were in business.

Mike came to our house about once a week. It hurt me to know Mike was taking advantage of my husband, but Jack’s business got a major bump, which made everybody happy.

Mike had no conscience. He was more interested in getting over on Jack than making money with him. He’d sit across the table from us and shoot me seductive glances whenever Jack turned away. I knew Mike got off on our secret. To be honest, I did, too.

Mike was aggressive and assertive. He was a con man and a wheeler-dealer, everything Jack wasn’t. He lavished love and attention on me, and I couldn’t get enough. He was my Prince Charming, the man I’d been searching for my entire life. With Mike, I had a future. With Jack I had a roommate who offered sex when he wasn’t too stoned to perform.

Mike bought me jewelry and clothes. I even spent occasional nights at his apartment. Jack never questioned where I was or who I was with.

“When’re you gonna leave that dirtbag?” Mike asked me after a year.

“Soon, Mike.”

“What’re you waitin’ for? The clock’s tickin’.”

“I’m worried about him. I pay most of the bills. Without me, he’d be on the street,” I said.

“And whose fault is that? The longer you support him, the worse it’s gonna be.”

“If there was some way I could set him up. Make sure he’d be okay for a year or two,” I said.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you till me ’n Adam got our loose ends together, but—”

I’d met Adam, Mike’s boss at the garage. Like Mike, he was a wheeler-dealer and a consummate bad boy—just not as bad.

“Some dude came into the shop a while back. We got talkin’ and doin’ blow. He tells us he’s got a cocaine connection in Colombia. The real deal—uncut shit that’ll knock us from here to Africa. All we gotta do is get down there and bring it back. Once we cut it, we’ll make a bundle. I could pass some on to Jack. He’ll be set for a long, long time.”

It could work.