“I’m a writer,” he said.
Eddie Peace joined the tips of his thumb and index finger like a billboard chef and blew him a kiss.
“Now scag is a problem… or a phenomenon… that’s important. It’s a subject which has a lot of significance, particularly right now.”
“Particularly right now,” said Eddie.
“I mean,” Gerald told them, “I’ve done dope like a lot of people have. I’ve blown acres of pot in my time and I’ve had some beautiful things with acid. But in all honesty I’ve never been in a scag environment because it just wasn’t my scene.”
“But now,” Marge suggested, “it’s your scene.”
Gerald blushed slightly.
“Not exactly. But it’s something I feel I should address. As a writer. Because of the significance it has.”
“Particularly now,” Marge said.
Eddie looked at her good-humoredly, avoiding Hicks’s eyes.
“Why don’t you shut up?” he asked.
Gerald was looking thoughtfully at Hicks’s bottle of Wild Turkey which stood on the floor beneath the picture window.
“My next project concerns…” he paused for the appropriate word… “drugs. I want to do something honest and real about the heroin scene.”
Eddie Peace nodded approvingly.
“I see it,” Gerald told them, “as a chain. People linked to each other through this incredible almost superhuman need. A chain of victims.”
“Like our whole society,” Jody said.
Eddie Peace sat straight up in his chair.
“That would be a great title for a flick, right, Jody? Chain of Victims!” He winked at Hicks very quickly.
“But somehow I don’t feel as though I have a right to it.” His hands orchestrated a moral balance. “I don’t think I can approach it as a project if I haven’t paid my dues.”
“He wants to cop,” Eddie explained. “He wants you to turn him on. He’ll pay for it.”
“It must strike you as weird,” Gerald said. “It strikes me as weird — but it’s a way of connecting with the project. I mean whatever the risk is I’m prepared to take it. Experience is what makes work valid.” He fixed his earnest eyes on Hicks. “I hope I’m not making you paranoid.”
Hicks stood up.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I want a word with your friend.”
Eddie Peace rose slowly as though there were water at his feet. “Ain’t you gonna hear him out, Raymond?”
Hicks went out the bungalow door and held it open.
“He wants a little schmoozing,” Eddie Peace explained to his friends.
Alone with Marge, Gerald and Jody looked at each other in silence.
“Would you like a drink?” Marge asked them. The way in which she asked it set them slightly more at ease. She supposed that she had meant it to.
“Please,” Gerald said quickly.
Jody looked uncertain.
“I don’t know. Would it go?”
“I think we should have a drink,” Gerald said.
Marge moved the backpack with the pistols in it to the far edge of the bed and brought Gerald the bottle of Wild Turkey.
“I’m afraid there aren’t any glasses.”
“That’s all right,” Gerald said. He held the bottle toward the light, examining the texture of the whiskey. “Very fine stuff.”
He took three large swallows and passed the bottle to his wife. Jody drank from it grimly.
“Do you?” she asked Marge inclining the bottle.
Marge took it and drank. For some reason it tasted sweet to her, like sherry.
“Are you an addict?” Jody asked.
“Certainly,” Marge said.
Jody smiled intelligently.
“No. Really.”
“I don’t know if I am or not.”
“Doesn’t that usually mean you are?”
Marge shrugged.
“How about him,” Gerald asked. “Is he?”
“No.”
“Aren’t there some funny moral areas there?” Jody asked.
“I guess it depends on your sense of humor,” Marge said.
Gerald had another drink.
“We’re not here to judge,” he said. “There’s such a thing as personal necessity. Maybe it’s beyond moral areas.”
Marge found that the liquor made her eyes ache. She closed them against the light, and leaned back on the pillows. She had already been told to shut up.
“You must be a terrific writer,” she said.
Hicks and Eddie Peace huddled against the dark wall of the last bungalow. Eddie hugged his shoulders, his back to the wind.
“Ridiculous,” Hicks said. “Ridiculous bullshit.”
“I thought you’d be amused for Christ’s sake.”
“Amused?” Hicks shivered. “You got a lot of nerve. What happened to the Englishman?”
“I got news for you,” Eddie said, “your shit has a bad rap.”
“Then there’s a misunderstanding.”
“I don’t think so,” Eddie said.
Hicks ran a hand over his hair.
“Then get those assholes out of here.” Eddie shook his head in impatience.
“You don’t understand, Raymond, that’s the misunderstanding. You don’t know how things work here. This guy has just been paid an absurd figure. His wife is an heiress. I tell you these people have no conception of money.”
“You’re the con man,” Hicks said, “not me. I’ve got quality shit to sell — why do I want this insanity?”
“Raymond,” Eddie said, “Raymond, try and learn something. I deliver this goof into your hands.” He reached out, took Hicks’ right hand and squeezed it. “He’s a nice fella. He’s very polite.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then you’re stupid, Raymond. I tell you your shit is a no-no around here. I’ll give you six thousand for what you can give me. And with a little imagination you can screw Gerald for a lot more. Listen, it would wipe you out what I’ve got working with those two. The guy is scared shit less— even if he doesn’t know it yet. He’s gotta be discreet.”
“You’ll give me what?” Hicks said. “What’s that figure again?” He put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
“You just take it easy,” Eddie said.
“Man, I’ll burn it before I take a fucking like this.” Eddie twisted slightly to dislodge Hicks’ hand from his person. Hicks seized the leather and held him. “You’ll take a fucking like you wouldn’t believe if you don’t get hip, Raymond. I’m warning you.”
“You’re doing me,” Hicks said. He pulled Eddie toward him.
“Take your hand off me, Raymond.”
“You’re doing me.”
His teeth clenched, Eddie Peace struck Hicks in the stomach with the points of his fingers. Hicks released him surprised.
“Take your hands off me, cocksucker.”
To Hicks’ utter astonishment, Eddie slapped him twice across the face.
“You nickel and dime asshole — don’t you dare threaten me with violence.” Eddie thrust his chin upward and pushed Hicks backward. “You’re way out of your league, Jack. You’re not selling grass to college girls down here. You and that bitch can get offed on account of that shit. For Christ’s sake, you big creep I’m doing you a favor.”
A one-man Mutt and Jeff routine, Hicks thought, stepping back to let him work. He had balls and audacity, without question.
“I can lay this off for you, stupid. Nobody else can.”
Eddie had balls and audacity and he was not basically rash. He was operating in midair — but he held the superior position and it was not unreasonable that he dare to assert it. His trouble, Hicks thought, was that he was too much of an optimist, like all hustlers. And for all his imagination, he was not a good judge of character on limited acquaintance.
He rubbed his cheek where Eddie’s first blow had fallen.
The sound of it rang in his soul like a mantra.