Five Uneasy Pieces

I grinned. “So what do you think now, Gerald?” He had no answer. I snickered. That shut you up, didn’t it?

Later, as I was treating myself to a quick hit, there was a knock at the door. I checked the peephole. It was a cop! What did he want with me?

“Answer it,” Gerald said.

“Quit telling me what to do,” I replied. As if he ever heard me.

“Oh, c’mon,” he insisted. “What do you have to hide?”

Fine. I grabbed a can of room deodorizer and sprayed madly. The knocking continued. I gathered my wits as best I could. “Maintain,” I told myself, before opening the door.

The cop at my door smiled. He looked super-friendly. (Jealous, Gerald? I mused, with grim satisfaction.)

“Mrs. Taylor?”

“Yes?” I said.

“I’d like to speak to you a moment. Do you mind if I come in?”

I paused to consider. Should I invite a cop into my apartment? “Well ...”

“Oh, why don’t you let him come in?” Gerald taunted. “It’s only polite. Tell him he’s welcome.”

I shrugged and relented. “Why not?” I said. “Come on in.”

He followed me into the living room then sat on the couch and peered at me.

“Care for something to drink?” My voice rose a register or two. My guts twisted as I tried to look as normal as possible. God, I wish I hadn’t just taken that hit.

“No, thank you. This won’t take long.” The cop’s eyes appraised me. Could he tell I was stoned? Was I about to be busted for possession and use?

“We know,” he said.

My laughter wore a nervous edge. “Uh, know what?”

“Your neighbor told us.”

I began to perspire. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damn that Simon! He must have known I’d ratted him out. He must have smelled the weed in the next apartment through the cardboard walls and sicced the cops on me. I wanted to murder the bastard. Just like ... No, I couldn’t think about that.

The officer sniffed the air in a rather obvious way. “Do I smell illegal substances?”

Suddenly, Officer Friendly didn’t seem so friendly.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I said.

“Sorry. You’ve invited me in and I now have probable cause to search for drugs.”

I continued to protest and tried to block his path, but it was no use.

As he searched, I realized it would be just a matter of time before he found something.

Oh, fuck.

I grabbed my purse and snuck out the door, sprinting to my car in record time. My luck, it was blocks away (damned city parking!). By the time I’d reached the car and started it, the cops had arrived and hemmed me in. Officer Friendly must have found the evidence and called for backup.

I gave up without a struggle. What was the point?