Adrift in the Sound by Kate Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

white powder. He unfolded a paper napkin to reveal a silver spoon, syringe and clean cotton balls. Stinky wheezed, “Far out, man!” and belched.
    “Who’s first?” Cadillac Carl smiled, surveyed the crowd. The Dogs jostled and nipped. One by one, Cadillac Carl tied off the Dogs. They rolled up the sleeves of their old flannel shirts, took a hit, mumbled “Thanks, man,” and staggered back to the TV, plopped into their regular spots as the Sonics began the third quarter. Lizette felt the house’s energy settling, prepared to slip quietly back down the stairs and wait some more before going next door, but watched a moment longer.
    Elbowed out, only Fuzzy hadn’t gotten a taste. Speaking in a low tone across the piano to Cadillac Carl, head down, he said, “My turn.” He scratched himself and wiped his nose. The whites of his eyes were yellowed. His once fuzzy blonde hair had thinned and a bald spot showed on top when he bowed before Cadillac Carl under the dim bulb.
    “You burned me man,” Cadillac Carl said right out, toying with the syringe, rolling it between his fingers. “I looked for you last night at the bar. Before I got picked up. You know that … You were trying to avoid me, man.”
    Carl breathed in and puffed out like a viper. “You haven’t paid up…. I don’t like being messed with.” He looked Fuzzy full in the face. Fuzzy pushed back from the piano.
    “Hey man, you know, I got bills,” he said. “I got loitering tickets and court shit. If I was in jail, how would I pay you?”
    “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do with your money,” Carl said, stepping up to Fuzzy. “All I know is … I get mine.”
    “Yeah, I know … I know,” Fuzzy said nodding like a puppet, waving down Cadillac Carl’s volume with outspread hands.
    He pushed Fuzzy’s skinny arms away, “Don’t I always come by with good stuff?” Fuzzy nodded. “Can’t you count on me to be here?” Carl spoke louder, sharper.
    “Sure … You’re great.” Fuzzy said and kept gesturing to turn down the sound.
    One of the Dogs got up and turned up the volume on the TV. The game announcer explained the fine point of a rule after a play was whistled dead, his toupee sitting askew like a wrecked hamster.
    “What’re you doing here … anyway?” Carl said.
    “Come on, Carl. For chrissakes.”
    “You don’t pay, you don’t come around.”
    “I swear. I got the money, man.” Fuzzy’s body shook, his teeth chattered. “I’ll get it right after the game.”
    “You’ll get it now!”
    “I just need a taste, Carl. Come on, man. I’m sick. Just a little bit to keep me going … I feel like I’m dying, man.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “Let me do the cotton. It don’t cost nothin’ to do the cotton, just strain me up a little from what’s left in the cotton,” he begged and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his dirty shirt. “Keep me going, man. I’ll pay you. I swear it. I always pay you.” Fuzzy wiped pooled tears from his eyes. “Come on, man.”
    “You don’t get squat til I get paid,” Carl hissed.
    Fuzzy stumbled to the corner of the dining room like he’d taken a shaft to the gut and slumped to the floor. He sniffled and rocked, scratched himself some more. He made himself so small it looked like he was melting into the floor. Lizette watched, melded into the wooden landing, held her breathe. The Dogs nodded in and out. Fuzzy whimpered and noisily sucked snot from his sinus cavities, swallowed.
    “OK. OK. You can do the cotton,” Cadillac Carl said quietly. “Come on.” He reached down with his good hand and tugged. “Just don’t want nobody thinking I’m going soft … That’s all … Sets a bad example.” Fuzzy rubbed his chin, nodded, acted wise.
    Cadillac Carl prepared the spoon, added a drop of water and made like he was going to suck the moisture into the syringe, but he added some extra candy under the cotton. He dropped more water into the spoon’s bowl with the eye dropper, then