Jake felt himself falling toward the black dude who reached out his hands to catch him. But, as Jake tried to right himself, his knees just gave out and he crumbled to the floor.
Soundtrack: Heroin---Velvet Underground
“I haven’t seen him for months, not ‘til tonight, but I heard he was really into smack, bad. I guess he is.”
It was Joanie’s voice. He recognized it. Who was she talking to, he wondered, and about what?
Oh, wow! She was talking about him and what she was saying was true. Totally paranoid about the hallucinogenic effects of the grass being sold on campus these days, Jake had turned to heroin. It was almost impossible to find at the U, but through his boxing connections he’d made a couple of contacts in the black ghetto of the City. They’d helped him score. Heroin was perfect. Body and soul were at peace. Vision was dulled. Life was quiet.
The only catch was money. H was expensive and Jake found himself wanting it every day... to fend off the demons. That fall he’d sold some paintings to raise the scratch he needed to buy it... yeah, he'd sold one to Bill Samuels and recently the U had actually bought a few for their permanent collection, their gamble that he would someday be a well-known artist and their modest investment in him a sound one.
The only catch was money. H was expensive and Jake found himself wanting it every day... to fend off the demons. That fall he’d sold some paintings to raise the scratch he needed to buy it... yeah, he'd sold one to Bill Samuels and recently the U had actually bought a few for their permanent collection, their gamble that he would someday be a well-known artist and their modest investment in him a sound one.
But that money was gone now and he was anxious, not just about having enough bread to score, but also how to make ends meet, now that he was going to be out of the protected world of the U. He’d have to pay rent, buy food, and … the H he wanted (no, needed) so desperately.
Jake turned his head awkwardly, straining to see Joanie behind him, but all he could make out were vague forms and muted colors. Then a deep and powerful voice broke through the haze, accompanied by a strong dark face looming directly over him.
Jake remembered, that is he remembered last summer at Stretch’s. There’d been a shipment of beautifully clean horse — powerful, pure as new-fallen snow. He’d bought a couple of weeks’ worth and shot some up right there with Stretch and this other cat, Jukie. Yeah, Jukie. This was the cat… here, now. What was he doing here... at the U, anyways?
“Hey man. You in a bad way. I ain’ got no smack, but I got some dyn-o-mite grass. You wanna’ do a stick? Might help.”
Jake was totally confused. Where was he, exactly ? What day was it? Grass? No, he couldn’t risk it. “No, man. I don’t dig the shit that’s goin’ roun’. It’s got all that angel dust and crap in it, which jes' fucks me up.”
“No man. Not this shit. This bees some fi-i-ine shit. Pure. No white boy’s play shit. This is ghett-o weed, know what-ah-meen?”
Jake dug the sound of the voice, sonorous and somehow comforting. He opened his eyes wider. He liked the face he saw, smooth dark-brown skin, bearded below, and topped off with a thick, neatly combed-out halo-like afro. Yeah, he dug this Jukie.
Jake began to sit up and found he could do so without feeling dizzy. “You sure?” he asked, hopefully.
“Fer shure,” Jukie replied. “I wouldn’t shit you, man. I’ll go out and get some of them fine chicks that’s here at the party an’ come back here an’ we’ll blow us some weed."
Links
heroin (H, horse, smack, snow, etc.)
marijuana (pot, grass, weed, blow, etc.)
Velvet Underground
Go to the next scene in Jake's story
New Year's Eve 1968: Jake, Scene 8 "Take Me Higher"
Go to the previous scene in Jake's story
New Year's Eve 1968: Jake, Scene 6 "Visions of Viet Nam in the Living Room"
Go to a related scene
New Year's Eve 1968: Jukie, Scene 2 "One Slick Cat"
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