The Fury - Jason Pinter [34]
and dancing. I was voted 'most likely to succeed'in high
school. Starred in all the drama shit. Figured I'd come
here and show those Rockette girls how things are really
done."
"And then?"
"It's a tough gig," she said like a woman who'd given
up the dream long ago and had come to peace with it.
"Too tall. Too fat. Too short. Nose too big. Tits too small.
There's always an excuse. So I started waitressing in
Midtown, cool little Irish pub. Some of the actors used
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to go there for a drink after the shows. Then I'd come
back here, get high and crash. That's how I met
Stephen."
"How exactly did you meet him?"
"Funny story," she said, taking another long drag. "I
used to call this guy named Vinnie when my stash
needed re-upping. Well, his name wasn't actually
Vinnie. It was kind of a global pseudonym that all the
runners used, they'd all call themselves Vinnie. There
were probably a dozen different Vinnies working at any
given time, covering different parts of the city. So one
day I'm outside on the stoop waiting, and another guy
kind of ambles up and just stands around. I can tell from
the way he's walking, kind of looking at the street, side
to side, he was definitely a user. So I said hi. He said hi
back. Vinnie rolls up half an hour later, this greaser
wearing a hat turned sideways, couldn't have been a day
over fifteen, and fills us both up. And since it's always
more fun to see those bright lights with company, we
went back to his place."
Rose's eyes flickered to the walls, then back to the
table. There was sorrow and pain in her eyes that hadn't
been there a minute ago. She was trying to stay cool,
but I could tell she'd cared about Stephen.
"It was kind of funny, because Stephen and Vinnie
had this little, I don't know, chat. Friendly, like two
buds. I figured Stephen had used this guy before. You
know how sometimes you order pizza so often, the
delivery guy kind of becomes your pal? At first it's all
tips and friendly hi's but then you're talking about the
weather. One pizza guy actually asked me out once.
That's when I knew I needed to learn how to cook."
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Jason Pinter
"How long did you know Stephen?" I asked.
Rose sniffed, tapped out her cigarette until it stopped
smoking. Then she placed it in the ashtray amidst a
graveyard of used butts. She stared at them for a
moment, like a woman who'd been trying for years to
quit and realized just how addicted she was.
"Just about seven years."
"Were you two close?"
"Depends on when you mean," she said. Her voice
had become a little more abrasive. She had feelings for
Stephen, but there had been some bad times, too. I
imagined that when two junkies got together it wasn't
exactly Ozzie and Harriet. If a relationship between
two such people could be thought of as "tumultuous,"
it was probably the best one could hope for. I'd had
enough relationships that were able to find trouble on
their own without the uncertainty caused by stimulants
and hallucinogenic substances.
"Did you date?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't get
offended at my prying.
"Again," she said bitterly, "depends on when you're
talking about."
"Were you seeing each other when Stephen got
killed?"
"Hell, no," she said irritably. "See, thing is, after a
while you get tired of the life. It's one thing to be irre
sponsible and screwing around in your twenties. I mean,
everyone does it. Most folks don't settle down by
twenty-five and spend time worrying about a mortgage
and a 401k. I didn't, and neither did Stephen. But then
you hit thirty, and you're still renting a studio smaller
than a shoe box, and guys like Vinnie stay the same age
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because whoever the dude is who supplies them just
keeps hiring high-school kids. Funny. I must have had
half a dozen dealers all named Vinnie, all under the age
of twenty-one. You know how stupid you feel when
you're thirty and some kid is selling to you, and you
know he's still in high school and probably makes more
money than you?"
"So you were