Crazy Boy (AKA Steve) wakes up on the floor of what a crash pad. It takes him a few minutes to remember that he is at C.J.'s, the kid he was shooting smack with last night. He finds a clock and learns it is 4 p.m.
He looks in the fridge and finds two beers. He chugs the first one. That was for the morning whips and jangles. He grabs the second one and takes it to go sit on a milk crate. Then he starts doing his daily jump-start thinking: "How can I get money to shoot up some smack about six times today?"
He's already sold everything he owns including the family car. He's still on parole for the last robbery, so he is not too eager to break any laws just yet. His parents are hip to his habit and want nothing to do with him. He has nothing left to pawn. The wedding rings--both of them--are long gone. He took Barb's while she was sleeping. He's got nothing here by way of a plan, and withdrawal is breathing down his neck. He can already feel the muscle cramps and nausea.
He decides to go home and look for some of Barb's money. Not that she would give him a red cent if her life depended on it, but he figured her for having a stash of emergency money somewhere.
He walked the ten blocks home feeling queasy, muscles aching and sweating like he was in a sauna. The first thing he noticed when he got in his apartment was Barb's suitcases and a bunch of boxes that were all packed and sitting by the door.
"Honey, I'm home," he called out in a too-sweet voice.
"Go to hell you big loser," she screamed as she came into the living room. "I'm leaving as soon as I can get somebody to help me with my stuff."
"But, baby, you know I couldn't call you," he tried. The land line had been shut off months ago, as had his cell phone. "And I wasn't with another woman. You do know that," he added.
"I wish it was another woman," Barb was still screaming. "Another woman would be so much better than your lover heroin taking you away for days and keeping you from getting a job." Now she was crying.
Then she suddenly stopped and looked at him hard. "Don't touch any of my stuff. I'm walking to my mother's to see if Joey will give me a hand with this stuff. I'll be back soon."
The minute the door slammed, Crazy Boy started going through her stuff like a cop turns over an apartment for evidence. He checked every zippered compartment, every inch of the boxes until he found it. A shoe box in one of the boxes held $285 in cash that was his for the taking. He didn't even bother to repack her stuff. He ran out the door on his way to his dealer's house.
This day was turning out to be okay.
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