Heroin Chronicles Read Free Page A

the gun over, fatso! And you two—on your feet or I shoot him. Hands in the air, quick, quick!”
    From her vantage, Tania could see the Russian clearly. His hand was trembling. He was dope sick and desperate. By contrast, the dealers were cool as hell. Even the kid with the gun pressed against his temple seemed nonplussed. They all moved with a kind of insect calm, slowly doing whatever the Russian instructed. Waiting for the right opportunity to pounce. Tania sensed that the Russian was too nervous, too desperate to pull this off. She closed her eyes.
    â€œOkay, everyone against the wall.”
    They lined up silently. They stood there, palms up, watching the guy closely as if committing every aspect of his face to memory.
    â€œJou really focked up,” the goatee muttered.
    â€œShut up! Fucking beaner!”
    â€œJou robbing 18th Street, homie.” The goatee shook his head sadly. “They gonna cut off jou balls.”
    â€œOne more fucking word outta you and I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill you. Yeah?”
    The goatee shrugged.
    The Russian glanced toward Joe and Tania, still huddling together next to the door. “You on the floor. You, bitch!”
    Tania looked up.
    â€œListen. You need to get up slowly, no sudden movements. I want you to go over to the table and pick up the dope. Put it all in the shoebox with the money. Close it up and bring it over to me. Don’t fuck around.”
    Joe squeezed her hand and whispered, “It’s okay. Just be cool.”
    Tania did as she was told. She brought the box over, stopping a good three feet away from the Russian. She realized she needed to piss badly and a mad urge to laugh came over her. She watched the Russian’s hand trembling wildly, the muzzle of the gun twitching against the young kid’s temple.
    â€œNow what?” she whispered.
    â€œPut the box down and slide it over.”
    She did this. The box lay just in front of the Russian and the kid he was holding hostage.
    â€œNow go. Back over there.”
    Tania scurried to Joe, crouched down with him again. As they huddled Joe could feel her trembling. He whispered, “It’s gonna be okay.” Somehow she believed him.
    The Russian sniffed, more and more snot dripping down his face. “Okay, that’s good. This is what’s going to happen. Me and my friend here are going to go down the stairs. If anyone even peeks their head out of the door before I’m on the street, I shoot him. I’m not bullshiting, in Russia I’ve kill many men in cold blood. I’m no fucking joke. Asshole,” he said, poking the gun harder against the kid’s temple. “We bend down together. On three. You pick up the box, and we get out of here. Yes?”
    The kid remained silent. His young face may as well have been carved in stone.
    â€œOkay. This is one … two … and … and …”
    A look of confusion came over the Russian’s face. His nose and mouth twitched wildly, as if he were having some kind of facial spasm. “Ah,” he bleated. He sniffed as more goop dripped from his nose. “Ah!” he said again. He wrinkled his nose wildly. “ Ahhh …”
    The Russian sneezed. The sound of it—and the almost instantaneous bang as the gun went off—echoed around the loft. The kid flew sideways, the contents of his skull exploded from the side of his face. When Tania opened her eyes again, the Russian was just standing there, his face slick with blood, holding the gun with a look of terrified confusion. He stared at the murder weapon as if seeing it in his hand for the first time. He peered down at the kid. He was laying with half his face blown off, in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.
    â€œShit!” the Russian screamed at his hand, as if it had betrayed him. “SHIT!” He looked up. The three dealers were already advancing on him. He turned the trembling gun on them. Screamed,