Phil laughed to himself “Don’t worry you can sing for me, or we can take are drinks back to my room and you can …… give me a private performance how does that sound,” Phil said in nasal soft whisper so that only Jimmie could hear as his eyes worked there way up to her face. Jimmie smiled to herself finally she thought one-step closer, “How about my room I live above the bar” they nodded an agreement. The Bartender handed Phil a big clear bottle as they left the bar walking outside were the moon smiled and the stars stood like small freckles. They entered into a hall that was painted beige with red stripes passing the large painting of a Nile crocodile that stood in the corner.

They walked up the black spiral staircase where a row of green doors stood numbered 101,102,103,104, 105 being her room. They made there way to the last door pulling out her key out she unlocked the door hearing her the small dog yelp. Finally opening the green door to her small apartment. Which had a bedroom and bathroom that connected, and a half of kitchen painted a pepto bismol pink that opened up to a living room, her small white dog barked at there feet as they walked into the living room following them, as he flapped his to big new pink sapphire bejeweled dog collar. As Jimmie moved into the kitchen Phil waited in the living room sitting down on the dark red couch yelling out “ Nice place.” Jimmie glanced up smiling.

“Thanks I’ve had it forever, it ain’t Caesars Palace but its Home. Oh and that’s my dog Queeny,” she smiled pouring two glasses of the clear substance bobbling her head up and down getting herself in the mood she flipped on the small white radio on the counter.

With two glasses in hand, dancing back and forth she handed Phil his glass. As she took hold of the nearest item in use of a mic, which sat on top of the small TV was a thin crystal icicle given to her by and old flame. She didn’t know why she kept it but it was a reminder of good days long gone. While speaking into her “mic” she giggled, “Shell I sing for you.” Phil nodded his head laughing silently watching her move her hips. As Tina Turner played, “What love got to do with it” on the tiny radio, a low raspy hum came from Jimmie’s throat getting louder with every note. Her smooth honey voice belting out, “You must understand, the touch of your hand makes my pulse react, that its only the thrill of boy meeting girl, opposites attract,” singing the rest of the song she gave a little bow.

Phil laughed putting his drink down on the small white coffee table standing up clapping, “that was amazing” he said in a high pitch nasal voice. Moving closer to her, taking the crystal icicle out her hand placing it back where it belonged. He kisses her own her cheek “ Amazing,” he said again sitting back down. Reaching inside his jacket pulling out a petite clear bag filled with what looked like small crystals. She knew instantly that it was meth. Jimmie sat across from him on the floor. On the couch Phil took out the small needle, small traveling spoon, and lighter placing them along with his drink on the coffee table. Taking off his jacket to reveal a white clean shirt he rolls up the sleeves. Jimmie looked at the coffee table hard, she could feel her insides begin to itch, as her armpits began to sweat, she felt the goose bumps lace her arms. Phil watched Jimmie, watch the table as he took each object. Placing the meth on the spoon lighting it watching as the substance melted into yellow liquid, he took the needle placing it into the liquid. Jimmie watched as the liquid filled the syringe. Instead of putting the needle in to his arm Phil held out his hand for Jimmie’s placing her pudgy pale white arm into his hand. He tapped her forearm with two fingers, seeing a visible green vein he injects the liquid into her arm after doing her he does himself. They both sat silently listing to the music play quietly in the background. They stared off into space the drug taking effect. Unzipping his pants Phil pulled Jimmie onto her knee’s, she looked into Phil’s eye’s as she bent down everything fades dark as she closed her eyes.

****

Coming down from the high Jimmie sat up on the couch listing to static of the radio. Queeny silent snores came from the bottom, at her feet and Phil lay on the sofa snoring. Jimmie stood up slowly feeling her world shift back into place, excited once more with the idea of headlining her own show. She knew Phil was the one to get her to help her fulfill her dreams. She slowly tipped toed passed Phil opening the fridge door looking around seeing left over turkey, and rye bread. She took the items out of the fridge quickly making a turkey sandwich for the both of them. Sipping the clear liquid bottle in hand she made her way to the bathroom turning the light on into the small room were a white cushion toilet sat and a beige tub sat low and small, a sink and oval mirror sat above it. Jimmie looked at her reflection again she smiled not seeing smeared lipstick or, the running eye liner, nor the lines on her face that told the truth. She didn’t see anything but her dreams coming true.

The End