Suzie’s House 159: The Snitch

“You The Man?” the snitch asked seconds after he and Drew met in the back of the WalliMart parking lot.

“No! No, I’m not The Man,” Drew said with a spoof of the very real panic he felt. Among these people “The Man” meant law enforcement, especially under cover cops.

“I don’t men The Man, the man. I mean are you Cool Dude from RamirezRules?”

“Oh. That man. Yeah, that’s me.” Drew tried a sappy smile, and guessed he pulled it off when the snitch slid open the side door on his vintage VW Van.

“Well.” The snitch gestured him in. “Come on.”

Taking a deep breath, Drew climbed into the interior, dimmed by eddies of pot smoke. The snitch must be higher than a kite. Or maybe not. Under the harsh reek or fresh smoke rode the stale stench of many roaches long since burnt. Add to that a strong scent of unwashed body and a faint hint of patchouli and you got “ripe, dirty hippie” odor to the max. Drew made himself relax, as if the odor and the tie-dye curtains and the old pan of stir fry on the miniature, built-in stove homey. He found a clear spot on the bench seat in back and took it.

“I’m StollenFace21.” The snitch reached out to shake Drew’s hand, for all the world like a businessman, save for the aviator sun glasses, greasy long hair, and over sized T-shirt with dancing bears in rainbow hues. “Call me Dave.”

“Call me Drew.” Drew shook the man’s hand, then tried to act like he wasn’t watching as he assessed the way Dave sat lotus-style on the floor with his back against the passenger’s seat. No staring into the distance. No giggles. Couldn’t see the pupils of his eyes. Drew better assume he wasn’t stoned.

“Man, it’s soooo good to meet up with someone from the old days,” Dave said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Drew with feeling, as if he really did miss it, rather than that he was ransacking his memories for the half a dozen times he’d attended Grateful Dead concerts and prayed the crib notes he’d taken on play lists and concert dates would get him through.

“Seems like everyone I knew back when is gone now. Not dead, just moved on. Looks like you did some moving on, too.”

Drew shrugged, looked out the window between a gap in the curtains and hoped the dimness of the interior helped hide his mediocre acting.

“You’re in computers, right? That what you did with your life when the final tour bus pulled out?”

“Yeah. Only, I missed the last bus, you know?” Drew looked askance at Dave. “I guess it was a little after Touch of Gray. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded gravely. “I know what you mean. Here, I’ve got a treat for you.” Dave reached between the front seats to mess with the radio. After a minute or so, the scratchy tones of a boot-leg tape came on.

“Recognize that?” As soon as he was sitting again, Dave unearthed a pouch from the flotsam on his floor. While he talked, he started rolling a joint. “Lady With a Fan at Red Rocks. One of the last shows I saw. I thought I was going to get to plug right into the soundboard, but the last minute my contact fell through and there I was in Microphone Forest with…” he drifted into the technical tirade of a fanatical recording fan.

Drew smiled, and nodded, and that seemed to be all Dave needed. Drew wanted to get things going, but you couldn’t push guys like Dave. If you weren’t easy going, they got suspicious. So he kept smiling and nodding and focusing on keeping his shoulders relaxed. To his surprise, it wasn’t long before Dave got to the point himself.

“So, you came into some money?”

“Yeah. I got an inheritance, a cousin I didn’t even know I had.”

Dave nodded like a bobble head on the dashboard. “Yeah, that’s good. But who are you going to sell it to? If we can get Ramirez to cut you in, I mean.”

“I know some computer people who want to try it. They’re just geeks, but I can trust them.” Drew and his partners had that much of his story planned out at least.

“Good. Good.” Dave lit the doobie and inhaled, holding it for a few seconds, then puffing smoke like Old Faithful in Yellowstone gushes hot water. “Are you sure you want the Chinese Shit?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Have you even tried it before?”

“Yeah.” Drew sounded a little nervous to himself and swallowed hard. He hadn’t wanted to lie about it, but Toby and Maria insisted.

“You’re lying.” Dave gave Drew a hard-eyed stare. “Know how I know? Because the only one who’s ever had any before is me and Ramirez.”

“That’s not true,” Drew said hotly. He intended to point out all the people in the chat room who claimed to have tried it.

“It is! It is! But that’s about to change right now.” Dave gestured at the joint wedged between his fingers. “This isn’t just pot. It’s lace with The Chinese Shit. You want to deal it, you should know what it’s all about.”

With the look of intense interest and speculation, as if this were both test and dare, Dave offered Drew the joint.

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