Each of Brendan’s words is
a stab. I heard you had a baby.
Deep stabs, severing arteries.
You look good, anyway.
Ever chivalrous, that would be
Brendan. “Hi, Brendan. Yes,
I had a baby. And you look
exactly the same. Grady,
will you please come here?”
Grade E obliges. I shut my
window, turn my back on
Brendan. [Why didn’t you do
that before?] Bree? Lecturing
me? Am I totally schizo or what?
The Worst Thing Is
Brendan knows I’m back in the monster’s snare.
And what a coincidence. [Coin cide is two
four-letter words!] Shut the hell up, Bree.
“I didn’t know you and Brendan were friends,”
I say as Grade E slithers into the front seat
beside me. “I didn’t know he had any friends.”
I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.
More like business acquaintances.
Grady winks, hands over a bindle.
Even without opening it, I know
it’s short, and I can feel it’s mostly
powder. What kind is uncertain.
The look on my face must say
volumes. It isn’t the best
crank I’ve ever seen, but it works.