Straight Life - Art Pepper [146]
There's two ways of carrying dope into jail. Either you swallow it and vomit it up, or else you've got it stuck up your ass and far enough to where in a shakedown they can't see it. David's parents owned a business, he had a lot of money, and he'd always had a lot of dope. I just figured if he had a chance he would bring something in. I looked, and I had a feeling.
Now, it has to be a real friend of yours for you to get in on anything, and David was a good friend of mine. We'd been in Fort Worth together. We'd hung out together. I'd eaten at his pad, at his parents'; I'd wrecked his father's car. I had to be cool because of all the people watching: there's all these hustlers, and everybody's got their eyes open to see if anything's going on, and they can really pick up on it because that's their life, seeking dope.
I walked up to the front, and it was David. He was always a handsome guy. He always had some groovy chick with a Corvette and all that. He was strong looking with white teeth and a handsome face and a solid jaw, but babyish, with a boyish grin and black, curly hair. He was the kind of guy women want to take care of, and he always played on that. He'd just gone through that shower thing. His hair was all messed up, and he looked kinda crazy, kinda disheveled and lost. Then he saw me-he saw a friend in the jungle and he got a warm look on his face and he nodded to me. I said, "What happened?" He said, "Ohhhh, man, I got busted for possession, dead bang." That means there's no way out. He had no case.
The guys were standing around. They're looking at me, and they're looking at David, and one says, "Heeeey, jack. What's goin' on, baby?" A black guy. He's strutting along and then he kind of sidles up. The black guys have really got an image going; the real fiends, they're so suave. They'll talk to people they don't even know. The Mexicans are different. They're closed off and won't say anything even when they're dying for some stuff. This guy comes up and says, "Heeeey, jack," and he looks around to see where the heat is. He gets up by the bars and he says real low, "I know you didn't come dry, baby. And I know you're gonna look after old dad." The guy doesn't even know who David is! A lot of white guys are that way, too, and they talk like the black guys with the same inflections. Some white guys talk like Mexicans. Everybody's got his own little game. David says, "No, ain't nothin' happenin'... "Ohhhh, that's too bad, man. You wouldn't lie to me, would you baby?" "No. Nothin' happenin'."
I'm standing there hoping it isn't true. The guy saunters back. David's still outside the tank waiting for the guard to let him in. I look at him, and he looks at me, and he kind of nods his head. He smiles. I give him a quizzical, like, "What? Really?" It was just a meeting of the eyes, no words said, but in those expressions I knew something was happening.
The guard let him in and called for the trustee. I was there. I took his name. The two trustees take care of the whole tank. We have all the names listed and line everybody up for count in the evening.
The number one cell is the biggest cell in the tank. There's two bunks against the wall and there's a toilet and washbasin and a metal partition that comes out. The tank was crowded so I told David, "Just put your stuff here in number one, man." That was a dangerous thing to do because people would wonder. But I made it clear right away that the guy was a friend of mine and because it was so crowded I was going to let him catch the floor in number one.
When we got to the point where we could talk I whispered to David, "You holding?" He said, "Yeah." I said, "How?" He said, "I got a keester stash." He was already getting sick,