Read Online Last Stop This Town by David Steinberg - Free Book Online Page B

to Noah that this was the longest conversation he’d ever had with Chuck Zambrelli. He mentioned that fact to Pike in the men’s room during a piss break. The end of high school really did mend fences and break down barriers.
    “Strange days indeed,” Pike agreed.

 
    CHAPTER TEN
    A FTER A FEW more lap dances and the free dinner buffet at Baby Dolls, the guys said farewell to Chuck and the rest of the football team and headed out to their next destination of the evening. It was a bit far, so the guys picked up the car from the garage, paid the shocking forty-six dollar fee, and headed west.
    The Manhattan neighborhoods changed quickly, and soon they arrived at a sketchy neighborhood near the Lincoln Tunnel. Pike checked the address on his phone.
    “There,” he pointed.
    Dylan rolled up in front of an apartment building that sat on top of A-1 Bail Bonds. Plenty of parking in this neighborhood , he thought.
    Walker looked out through the window. Some unsavory characters were milling around in front of a boarded-up building.
    “You sure this is a good idea?” he asked.
    “It’s fine,” Pike assured him. “Ned knows this guy personally.”
    “Where does he know him from?” Dylan wondered aloud. “Juvie?”
    Pike became defensive. “This is high grade Jamaican Sinsemilla. You can’t get this shit in Connecticut.”
    “You can’t get ebola there either,” Noah shot back.
    But Pike needed this weed to pay Marco back for the couch he had sawed in half, so the discussion was moot. Pike considered blowing Marco off—after all, what could he do if Pike didn’t pay?—but then Pike came up with a list of about twenty pretty awful things Marco could and would do, not the least of which was to post the literally hundreds of photos of Pike smoking a bong that Marco had taken over the years. Marco was a vindictive motherfucker, and it was simply better to pay him for the couch than lose sleep wondering when the knife was going to slit your throat.
    Besides, the twelve hundred dollars of pot only cost nine hundred in the city.
    “Come on,” Pike ordered as he opened his door.
    The guys rolled their eyes and got out as well.
    Dylan locked the car, then checked the handle manually to make sure. As they made their way toward the apartment building, Walker surreptitiously moved his wallet from his back pocket to his front. They reached the front steps and Pike examined the names on the buzzer.
    “Here we go,” he said to himself and pushed 3F.
    “Hola” came a man’s voice from the speaker.
    “Hey. It’s Pike. Ned’s friend.”
    “Como?”
    “Ned Carney? From Connecticut?”
    Pike wondered if maybe Ned forgot to text the guy. That certainly wouldn’t be surprising.
    But then, without further discussion, the buzzer sounded.
    Pike looked at the other guys, shrugged, and opened the door.
    They walked up to the third floor—there was no elevator—and Pike knocked on 3F. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Jesus, a fairly scrawny Hispanic kid not much older than they were.
    Jesus was a small time drug dealer, and in his barely-furnished apartment were a couple of guys playing Wii Bowling, a cute girl watching the video game, a case of fire extinguishers, and a guy passed out in the corner. (One of the video game guys was short and fat, the other tall and skinny, like an Hispanic Laurel and Hardy.) Jesus motioned for them to enter and Pike cautiously led the guys in. They tried not to look nervous, but they had seen too many movies where guys in this situation got shot, or worse, not to be a little on edge.
    Jesus just stood there until Pike started the conversation. “What up, man. Ned said you might have something for me…?”
    Jesus looked him over. “You got the money?”
    Pike pulled out a wad of cash from his jeans and handed it over. “Here you go.”
    As Jesus counted it, Walker motioned toward the guy passed out in the corner and whispered to Noah, “I think that guy’s dead.”
    Walker could