Read Online The Lotus Crew by Stewart Meyer - Free Book Online

out.
    â€œThe cops are on the street outside,” another dude said. “I’ll go get’m!”
    â€œNo, I’ll go!” JJ huffed. He bolted out the door and didn’t stop running ’til he was back in Alphabet City.

A Nonpreppy Type
    KATHY MCQUEEN HAD to sell a few more bags of reefer before calling it a day. She was down for five but needed six bags of Triad to soothe the monkey. If Triad was sold out she’d have to go for a lesser bag, maybe not even get really straight. Nothing came near Triad. Straight-up goodness! If bad news fell she’d need a full bundle of anything else.
    Her clear blue eyes were alive, darting across Washington Square Park. One for the police and the other for customers. Pressure was on. It was getting late, and she had the shorts. Mercy!
    A dark man looked at her flirtatiously, commenting on her blonde hair. He pursed his lips and made pussy-sucking noises. Kathy snarled and gave him the thumbs-down sign.
    He was persistent.
    â€œWhat ch’doin’, momma? Y’all sellin’ them long pretty legs?”
    â€œBeat it, pig-ugly turd!”
    â€œWhat’z’a matta, baby, got somethin’ agin’ black men?”
    â€œNo, just ugly men.”
    The toothy, self-confident smile faded, along with the shoulder-shifting strut. “Bitch!” he spat.
    â€œEat shit, turkey.”
    She lit a joint and sat on the bench, smirking as he walked off muttering to himself. Kathy was getting sicker by the moment. She had no time to waste with obnoxious jerks. Her stomach fluttered. The surface of her skin was coated with a film of sticky sweat. She had to sell her reefer and go pick up quick.
    Almost the second she gave up she spotted an NYU student, who often scored nickel bags off her. He approached and bought ten nickels. Enough cake for the night and a generous wake-up! Now tell me there ain’t a God.
    It was a clear blue twilight, and Kathy’s spirits rose as she walked east towards Sixth and C. It was still early enough, if she was lucky. Her bones ached, and she considered a taxi, but that would cut severely into her scoring funds.
    On Sixth and B she caught her reflection in a store window. Tight blue sweater over her trim, small-breasted form, faded blue jeans hugging around the hips and long legs. She examined her short dirty-blonde hair. A year on heroin had done nothing negative to her looks. She’d lost weight and looked tight and lean. It was inside that the price had been paid to Mr. Jones. Inside, where her whole being ached for Lotus Land.
    A year ago Kathy had been a second-year art student at Cooper Union. She was fascinated by the punk scene and had a weakness for musicians. When she met Terry one night at CBGB, she couldn’t get over his trashy cool.
    Terry was a skinny fallen Catholic angel. He was naughty as sin and liked loud rock music and strong heroin. Kathy had a deep affinity for people who don’t do what they’re told. Terry was the very manifestation of this attitude. He moved in with her a few days after they met. A week of fucking their brains out didn’t diminish the fire. Her crib turned into a teacup scene for his friends, many of them celebrities on the punk music scene. They got along fine with Kathy. Everyone thought she was cool and dug her paintings.
    But two months into the scene Terry took a fall for possession. It took three days to raise bail. When she picked him up she hardly recognized him. The eyes were dead, dull, defeated. He’d been junk-sick to the max and was almost crippled with pain. He smelled of death.
    They returned to the crib, and Kathy fixed him promptly. But Terry’s tolerance had diminished, and he o.d.’d on his usual dose. Kathy had never seen an o.d. She didn’t have the first idea how to help.
    Terry was dead when the ambulance arrived, leaving behind his highly addicted girlfriend to fend for herself. But she was smart and street wise.