The morning sun streamed through the window like a spotlight, illuminating their debauchery. Four men sat at a round table in a smoked out living room. Beer cans half full of ashy beer were scattered about. Glass ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts. A jewel CD case with the remnants of a white powder and a rolled dollar bill lay on an old stereo, which was off. The cocaine was gone and they were quickly losing their high. Coming down from an all-nighter like this felt like drowning in lead. Chris started complaining, as he usually did, when they ran out.
"This sucks, you sure there's none left?"
"That was our last line,” Tom said.
"None left in your pockets?"
"No.”
Chris looked at the other two, Nick and John, sitting at the table.
"Any of you f***s holding out?"
"Nope"
"Don't look at me, I don't have s**t."
"F**k, we should of bought more," Chris lamented.
"Too late now."
"Let's call him."
"At 7 in the morning?"
"Why not?"
"F**k that. I'm not calling at 7 in the morning like some f****n' junkie."
"Give me the phone and I'll f*****g call him then."
"Do you have any money?"
"No. Do you?"
"No! What the f**k!"
"We'll get a spot."
"Listen, the night's over, let's just end it without all this bullshit every time."
"Yea, it's not fun anymore anyway."
"Even if we got more, wouldn't do much at this point."
"It would keep us from crashing at least. Can't we at least try to get more?"
"No man! Shut the f**k up about it!"
"When you're buying s**t just to keep from crashing you know it's done man."
"F**k. We should always get more than we think we'll need."
"A f****n pile."
"Wish I had a huge f****n pile right now."
"Like Scarface."
"Heh yea like Scarface and just put my face in it and inhale."
"Make lines with my hands and snort it right off the table."
"Haha. Yea. Not even give a f**k."
"No one has any money?"
"Nope."
"I don't."
"Ah man. This sucks!"
"We know."
"Crashing hard."
A few minutes of silence elapsed. Nick got up.
"Well, I'm gonna go lay down."
"What? And stare at the ceiling?"
"It's better than sitting here looking at you jammed up m***********s!"
"He needs to rub one out."
"So what if I do?"
"Have fun."
"Don't get any on ya."
"You guys can fight over the couch."
"You two calling it quits too?" Chris asked the other two.
"Yea man, it's over."
Nick, whose apartment this was, went into a room and closed the door.
The instigator, Chris, sighed and rubbed his face where feeling was starting to return. He snorted hard to try to get any cocaine trapped in his nose down into his throat. He felt achy and depressed. After a drug-fueled night, reality was hard to face on a bright new morning like this. It was always better to have an all-nighter when the weather was s****y the next day. Then you didn't feel guilty about wasting it and not doing anything. He gave a disgusted look at the stained couch and decided he was going to try and get home. Since he lost his license two months ago for DWI he looked at the two left sitting at the table.
"Who wants to get the f**k out of here?"
"I do," Tom said.
"I'm crashing on the couch," John said.
"I'll use some mouthwash before we go,” Tom said. “You should too Chris."
So they did and then Chris and Tom walked outside into sunshine that hurt their eyes. Squinting, they saw a healthy looking woman wearing earphones, stretchy shorts, and a hoodie jogging by. Dumbfounded, the two stood there and gaped in bewilderment at this mad person who was jogging this early in the morning. The woman gave them a wary look. She could tell these two disheveled guys were strung out on something. She sped up a bit, her pigtail bouncing as she ran by. After checking out her a*s, they crossed the street to a dirt lot where Tom's car was parked. It looked like it hadn't been washed in a while. Tom thought it would of been better, if you were going to drive fucked up, that the car was clean, but it would have to do.
There are all kinds of smarts and some people are smart in ways others aren't. These guys were addicts and were smart in the ways they had to be to keep them free and wealthy enough to keep partying. You could sum it up by saying they were street smart, but someone book smart might not understand what that means. They basically understood that law enforcement, jail, courts, judges, and rehabs were not things they wanted to become entangled with. So the first thing they did whenever they got in a car was put on their seat belts. To get pulled over because you weren’t wearing your seatbelt when you had an eight-ball in your pocket was just stupid. Not that they had any drugs left, but Tom was pretty sure he couldn't pass a breathalyzer. Tom drove anyway. Tom usually drove because he could do so the best out of all of them when it counted, that is, when he was intoxicated. He also kept his cool. He didn't panic when a cruiser rolled up behind him and look in the rear view so many times that he crossed the double-yellow. He could pass balance tests with ease if not totally s**t faced. But if he was that fucked up he wouldn't drive in the first place. He was the only one in the group who had never been arrested on a drug related charge or for a DWI. But before they got in the car this time Tom got one of his "bad feelings".
"I got a bad feeling Chris.”
“What do you mean?”
“Check and see if my brake lights work."
Tom sometimes got these bad feelings when he was about to do something illegal. Even if they were annoying to people, and most of the time uncalled for and didn't amount to anything, Tom didn't care about that. It was better to be safe than sorry, and his bad feelings had saved his a*s on not just a few occasions.
Chris, always the complainer, said, "What the f**k," but walked behind the car and stood there waiting for Tom anyway. Chris knew that when Tom got one of his bad feelings there was nothing to do but go along with it until he was satisfied. Tom got in the car, turned the key, and pumped the brakes. He looked in the rear view to make sure Chris was checking them out.
And Chris did check them out.
As Tom was conservative and didn't like to take any chances, Chris was more flexible. Or so he liked to phrase it. In reality Chris was just impatient and lazy, and now these flaws were about to put not only himself in danger, but his friend as well. Because Chris saw that the left brake light was not working, but because all he could think about was trying to sleep on the hard floor of Nick's apartment with his jacket for a pillow, and that there was a nice warm bed waiting for him at home, he was going to be damned if he was going to let a busted brake light stop him from getting to it. So he told Tom that the brake lights were working fine, that they were just as bright and red as the devil's a*s.
Chris walked over to the passenger side, got in the car, and told Tom the good news.
When they had put on their seatbelts, Tom asked, "So what's our story?"
One of the rules Tom had for dealing with cops was to always have a story about what you were doing and have it straight with whoever you were with. If most of your time was spent breaking the law, alternative explanations for what you were doing when questioned was a must. Cops liked to split people up and ask the same questions, looking for inconsistent answers. Chris just shrugged, so Tom said, "We are coming from doing an estimate for a bathroom tile job at Sam's house, and now we are going home." It was a good idea to show a cop that they were just two hard working guys, even getting up early on a Sunday morning.
"You got that?"
"Yea." Chris replied.
Tom started the car and eased onto a narrow road of a small town in upstate NY. It was a woodsy county with a lot of streams and lakes and trees and wildlife. The cops were mostly bored and liked when someone broke the law and gave them something to do. After navigating a few back roads, he turned onto the main artery through town. The streets were empty but for a few churchgoers. So far so good.
They came up on the main crossroads of town where there was a gas station and a deli and one of the town's few traffic lights. Cops liked to hide behind the deli and catch people who sped through the intersection attempting to beat the yellow light. Tom checked his speed, tapped the brakes, and coasted through the light. There was a police cruiser parked in front of the pumps at the station. The car was white with big red letters on the side that said 'Sheriff'.
Tom didn't look, but asked "Is he in the car?"
"Yep."
"Tell me if he pulls out."
Tom tried to stay loose and not tense up on the wheel as he drove by. They had gone a ways down the road from the station when he glanced in the rear view and saw the cruiser pulling out of the deli behind them.
"S**t."
At first, the cruiser looked like he was going to hang back, but then it sped up and was behind Tom's car fast, tailgating. Tom realized he was grasping the steering wheel too hard and tried to relax his grip. He knew the cop was probably just trying to run his plate and that was ok, the car and his liscence were clean. So Tom just kept on moving, just under the speed limit. Didn't want to go too slow and show them you were afraid. There was another light coming up and it was green for now, but Tom knew that this light was fast and it would likely be red before he got to it. So Tom hit the brakes.
Chris muttered “F**k” under his breath because he knew what was about to happen. And then the lightbar came on and filled Tom's car with red and blue light. A blast of the warbling siren made them both cringe.
Tom was confused. "What the f**k is he pulling me over for?"
He wasn't speeding, and hadn't crossed the double yellow. He also knew his tail lights were fine because Chris said so. So what was it? Well, we’re about to find out, he thought. Right now, he needed to focus. Tom pulled off onto the soft shoulder and parked.
"Remember our story," he told Chris.
"I have coke on me," Chris said.
"What?"
"I have a little left."
"What the f**k? You were the one complaining and asking us for more!"
"I wanted a little for when I got home."
The cop was still sitting in his lit cruiser behind them, but Tom tried to keep his voice low.
"Are you an idiot? You know we always finish what we have so we don't carry it around when we leave!"
"I know. I'm sorry!"
"F**k! It's down your pants at least, right?"
"No, it's in my pocket." Chris looked scared now.
"Holy f**k. Just calm down and let me do the talking.”
Tom heard the clunk of the cruiser's door opening, and looking in the side mirror, he saw a big cop with a wide brimmed hat exit the vehicle. Looks like a real hard a*s, Tom thought. He rolled down his window.
The cop walked slowly up to the car but hesitated at the rear driver side window. Knowing why, Tom placed his open palms on the steering wheel as a courtesy. It put the cop more at ease to see you weren't hiding any surprises for him in your hands. Once he saw his hands were empty the cop walked up to Tom's window.
Tom knew how to talk to a cop. First of all he rarely called a cop sir. He thought it sounded like just what it is, a*s-kissing to avoid trouble. Just be friendly and polite, but not too much, and real relaxed. Cops sense nervousness, because they have to. The cops who weren't good at picking up on nervousness were not good cops and were more likely to be surprised and even killed. Tom knew that if you were nervous, a cop instantly did not like you and kept a hand near his weapon.
The cop peeked in the window, looked at the driver, then eyed the passenger for a moment.
"License and registration."
No pleasantries, Tom thought. Right to the point. He took his wallet out of his jacket pocket, opened it, took out his license and registration, and handed it over, nice and smooth.
"Here you go," Tom said.
"Do you know why I stopped you this morning young man," the cop asked.
Tom decided that since he was being called a young man, that he should call this cop sir. You had to be adaptable.
"I really don't have a clue, sir. Don't think I was speeding."
"You didn't know you had a tail light out?" the cop asked.
Tom tensed and barely restrained himself from giving Chris a strong backhand to the face.
"Didn't have a clue, sir. Just got the car inspected two weeks ago too."
"Just got it inspected two weeks ago you say?" The cop leaned forward over the front of the car to take a look at the inspection sticker and verify that what Tom claimed was true. A real hard a*s this one was, Tom thought again. The cop brought his face back to the open window. He asked, "Where you two coming from?"
"We just came from doing a job estimate at a customers house."
"Just came from doing an estimate you say?"
"Yea, just down the road."
"Where you going now?"
"We're on our way home sir."
The cop leaned back and peeked in the back window, checking to see if there was anything interesting lying on the back seats.
"On your way home huh?"
"Yes, sir."
The cop came back to the window, looked square into Tom's face, and asked, "Have you had any alcoholic beverages today?"
Some people said to tell a cop the truth if you had had a drink before getting behind the wheel. Tom never understood this thinking, if you could call it that. Why would you admit to a cop that you were breaking the law right off the bat? So Tom gave a chuckle and said , "Not me sir, way too early, and a Sunday on top of that." Tom immediately hoped he hadn't overdone it with that Sunday bullshit.
The cop looked at Tom. He seemed like a normal guy, wasn't too nervous, and didn't look intoxicated, but this cop never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt. In fact he thought he smelled a trace of stale beer coming from the open window. Tom watched the cop lean a little closer and flare his nostrils as he sniffed the air.
"Why am I getting a whiff of beer then?"
Chris, feeling guilty that they had been pulled over because of his lie, decided to try and deflect some of the heat.
"That would be me officer. I'm wearing the same clothes I did last night."
Tom wanted to tell him to shut the f**k up, but it was too late for that now.
"Is that so? What happened last night?"
"I did some drinking sir," Chris said.
"Did some drinking eh? The both of you?"
Chris shook his head a little too hard. "No sir, Tom wasn't there."
"That so."
The cop put two and two together. These two did do some heavy drinking last night alright, because they were just on their way back home now, on a sunny Sunday morning. No doubt about that. But the car happened to have a tail light out and now they had run into me, and ain’t that some s**t luck for them. He looked at Tom and grinned underneath his hat. Now that he knew they were lying, it was time to have some fun.
“Step out of the car son.”
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