Part 192 (2/2)

my sources dried up. The show must go on, right? The tucking show

always goes on. So he'd score a little H for me, all very disapproving,

then when the show was over, he'd put me back in one of these places.”

”None of us knew it was going to get this bad.”

”No, none of us knew.” He began to drum his fingers on the top of the

candy box. ”Remember Woodstock, Bri? Christ, what a time. You and me

sitting in the woods, dropping acid, tripping out, listening to the

music. Jesus, what music. How'd we get here?”

”I wish I knew.” Brian dug his hands out of his pockets, then pushed

them in again. ”Look, Stevie, you're going to pull out of this. h.e.l.l,

you're right in fas.h.i.+on now. Everybody's drying out, cleaning out.” He

worked up another smile. ”It's the eighties thing to do.”

”That's me, always on the cutting edge.” He grabbed Brian's hand.

”Listen, it's hard, you know. Man, it's really hard.”

”I know.”

”Man, you can't know 'cause you're not here.” He swallowed the anger and

resentment. He couldn't afford to show either now. ”Maybe I'll do it

this time, Bri, but I need help.”

”That's why you're here.”

”Okay, okay, so I'm here.” G.o.dd.a.m.nit, he was sick of plat.i.tudes and good

wishes. ”But it's not enough. I need something, Bri, just a taste of

something. You could slip in a couple grams of c.o.ke-just to get me

through.”

It wasn't the first time he'd asked. With a sinking heart, Brian knew

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