Imagine My Surprise! (24)
In which Dolly takes a powder
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24. Erase Mode
Over the next few months, our business doubled.
I’d given Dolly the keys to the kingdom, going as far as making her the go-between to our heroin supplier. She rarely used opiates of any type, had a clean record, and was the safest bet amongst us. Also, by now, I’d skipped past the young Sean Flaherty and bought straight from his source, a guy who ran his business out of Pedro Point in Pacifica.
I should’ve known that something was up with Dolly when I had to make the bi-monthly restocking run myself. This was highly unusual, but I was itchy and mindful of the dwindling supply, so I ignored this hiccup in the process.
My connection called himself Jim, and from what I could tell, he’d attended one too many Burning Mans. He was older than me, but way better put together, and rumored to have been a professional surfer. He greeted me at the door with a squint.
“Kurt?” he said. “I mean — hi, Kurt! Come on in.” He spoke with a heavy California surfer drawl. “Lock the door behind you, por favor.” He barely recognized this skinny version of me.
The thump of trance turned down low drifted through the sunlit beach house. The place was a study in poorly thought-out nautical themes and peeling rattan. A half-clad couple sat on the couch watching a superhero movie amidst a cloud of pot smoke. Another pretty, semi-dressed young lady trimmed a pile of pungent green bud at a table clearly suited for just that purpose.
Gesturing, he said, “That’s Amanda — ”
“Hi!” she said in a bright London accent.
“ — that’s Billy and Billie. I think they’re living here now.”
“You think?” I said with a chuckle.
“You know how it is around here.”
After we made our deal, all paid for via phone apps, I asked, “Mind if I fix?”
Jim said, “Sure. Don’t bother breaking into yours, though; I’ll sort you out. Then you can kick back with the Billies for a while. Glad you’re not gonna eat and run.”
Hours passed. The Billies, as Jim called them, were from Olympia, Washington, transplants who were currently tearing through an inheritance. As I was preparing to leave, I dumped out a pile of coke to perk us all up. As we were sharing this, Jim said, “Good of you to give Dolly some time.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“You know, for the move and shit.”
Uh-oh, I thought. But I didn’t break character: “Yeah, well, I do what I can.”
In a panic on the way back to The City, I called Dolly. She actually picked up. I tried to sound nonchalant.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, honey … what’re you up to?”
She paused. “Where are you?”
She was fishing for context. “I’m on the way back from Jim’s.”
Another pause. “We need to talk.”
“That’s great! I’d love to talk,” I overemphasized. “See you when I get home?”
“If you know already, why are you doing this?”
Heroin and cocaine contrived to make a venomous cocktail in my bloodstream. “Know what, dearest?”
“Kurt.”
“Know that you had it on Easy Street with free drugs and a nearly bottomless allowance?”
“Kurt.”
“Normal people have a talk before shit like this goes down.”
“Kurt, we’ve had talks. And you’re always too high to remember.”
“Why, Dolly? Why now?”
“Because you’re not present anymore. You’re not here. I have to share you with your other girlfriend — heroin.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? So, using a shit-ton of blow is fine, but using H is off limits?”
“Heroin makes you a bore, Kurt. And I’m tired of trying to get your attention.”
“Fuck you.” Then I stammered, “So you’re leaving the company?”
“The company? That’s rich.” I could hear her exhale a cigarette. “Yes, Kurt, you’re going to have to go back to running things and not lie around in a stupor all day.”
“It wasn’t all day.”
“I got a place out on Taraval near the beach. I got a new job.”
“You’ll never make it at these rent prices.”
“And you don’t have to worry. I’ll forget everything about your business. I know you’d probably have me disappeared.”
This last bit from her was melodramatic … but at that point quite possibly true.
“If Franks has anything to do with this, I’ll knee-cap him.”
“Goddamn it with you and Franks. I’ll have you know that Franks advised me against it. He actually said we should try to work it out. But fuck it — I’m steering clear of all y’all. We had our time, Kurt. It was fun for a while.”
“You’ll be back.” My eyes welled up.
Ominously, she said, “I hope you make it.”
“Dolly.”
“I’m hanging up, Kurt. I cleared out everything that was mine. I left you the bed and the Schiele print.”
“Dolly… what if I went to rehab?”
“It’s too late, Kurt.” I could hear her voice start to hitch. “Good luck.”
“Dolly.”
The call ended.
I screamed “FFUUUUUCCCCK!!!!! FFUUCCCCCKKK!!!” in the car all the way to Potrero Hill.
