Ice Cold

Chapter 25

Trent wandered back to his apartment, trying to decide whether the night could be considered a victory. There didn't seem to be any way to tell the difference. By the time he reached his building's front door he had to believe the money in his pocket made the difference. He had taken something away from the miserable night. Victory.

The sun had just begun to rise, and Trent smiled to think he would sleep through its entire reign over the world. The moon was his sun now. He entered his apartment without a sound, and stopped in surprise at the smoky atmosphere that greeted him.

Dave was seated on the couch, but it took a long time for his head to swivel toward the door. He was the only person there, and Trent had thought there would be a few more people around. The old bum didn't look anything like an old bum when he looked at Trent that way. It was far too searching a look for Trent to be comfortable. What did those cold blue eyes see?

“How was it?” Dave asked in a voice thick with weed.

For how stoned he sounded, the old guy was in control of himself. Trent dropped himself on the end of the couch opposite his houseguest. He grabbed one of the joints scattered on the TV and lit it while he came up with how to answer.

“Boring as hell...Ya know, I thought it'd be some kinda glamorous thing, but it was just plain boring. And actually seeing other people let themselves get so bad,” he shuddered, “Who woulda thought anyone could allow themselves to sink so far?”

Dave nodded sagely, “Yeah, it's not a fun life. Even if it looks like it from the outside. The glamor lures you in, but the reality makes you sick.” His voice carried the weight of experience.

“Nothin' exciting even happened.” Trent continued. “Normally all you hear is this drug dealer or that was shot up on a corner somewhere. None of those people I saw were capable of even tryin' to rob me, much less actually succeedin' at it.” Trent shook his head, thinking about the life Crazy Pete had built for himself on the money of the poor saps Trent had seen.

“You don't want somethin' exciting to happen, Trent.” Dave said slowly. “Excitement means somethin' went wrong. And if something goes wrong, you're not gonna make the kinda money you're lookin' for.” Dave bowed his head and stared at the burning joint between his thick fingers before continuing. “I don't usually tell people this, but I know a little somethin' about what a life of crime entails. I used to rob people for a living, and I focused on people like you. A guy out sellin' drugs to make ends meet, or even the bigger guys like your crazy friend. Either way, it was all just to make a buck. Or the adrenaline that came from it, the reasons don't matter. Excitement for those guys was nothin' they wanted. Most of the time I only had to scare the s**t out of them to get the money. But every once in a while...” His voice ceased rumbling through the room, and the words made Trent wonder at the things his friend had seen.

“Sometimes they fought back. And after a while, I actually wanted them to. Just for a challenge. But it turned out fightin' wasn't what they wanted, either. A fight always seems like a good idea, until you lose.” His eyes focused somewhere in the past, viewing memories he disliked looking at. Trent almost found himself studying his own memories, but shied quickly away from anything that would remind him of what he gave up. Erin was nothing compared to the things he ran from.

Dave grunted and focused again on the present, “Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn't'a heard since you've been gone all night.” He smiled lazily, the torture of his memories fading away, “Bobby's out of a job.”

Trent opened his mouth to ask what Dave was talking about, but shut it without asking. “What happened with Bailey?”

Dave smiled at him, “You guessed it. When we busted up in there the cops showed up for the alarm. Well, Bailey left to open the store without a clue what was waitin' for him. He took the weed with him. You remember how bad off he was? That's how he looked when the police met him staggerin' into his store. Didn't take long for them to find the weed and charge him with possession...He got outta lockup and fired Bobby before he even found his way home to take a shower. Swore off the rest of us, too.” Dave shook his head and gave a light chuckle to show how much that bothered him. “I dunno what the hell he thought was gonna happen. Everybody gets caught if they play this game long enough. He's just a dumbass, so he got caught immediately. Anyway, Bobby's been out lookin' for a job all night.”

“I dunno what we can do about it now. It's already done. Can't go back in time and warn him.” Trent shrugged.

Dave looked at the younger man critically. “Like I just said, there aren't many options when you're messin' with crime, Trent. That's what I've been tryin' to tell you. It always goes bad in the end. I understand you're tryin' to survive, and there ain't much else you can do. Just know that it'll end bad if you don't get out when you still can.” Dave stared at him. All traces of an old stoned hobo were gone, and in their place was a man that had been in the same position and was trying to help him learn his lessons the easy way.

Trent was beyond taking even good advice, though. He had lost too much, given up on too much. At one time, there had been nothing he wanted to do more than write. But he followed that dream as far as it could take him. It just hadn't been in the cards, and now he had to play the hand he'd drawn to.

“Yeah, it'll end badly. But what else is there? I'll go out with a bang if I can manage it. Last night sucked, but the money should help. I just gotta come to grips with the fact that I'm a damn drug dealer.” The words left a sour taste in his mouth.

Trent stood up and then paused to look at Dave, waiting for him to say something. But Dave just stared down at the joint still burning in his hand. Trent looked to his own hand and found that his joint had gone out while talking. He turned and walked to the door of his room.

Dave listened to the younger man walking away, he couldn't bring himself to lift his head. Everyone had to learn one way or another. Hopefully Trent's way wouldn't kill him, because his life was headed for situations where violence was the norm, rather than the exception.

Trent shut the door behind him quietly. Sandy was lying on his bed, still dressed. Or what passed for dressed in her profession. She had tried to wait up for him. He thought about lying down with her, but the thought of the girl at Crazy Pete's came back to him. He would brave his shower in order to keep his secret. The horrid thing would fit his mood like a glove. Ice cold and unwelcoming.

Author's Note

short chapter, but improvements are welcome