I was still reeling from the run in with Trinity, but the sun was just bright enough to distract me, to blind my memory of her. Central Park was bursting with people, out to enjoy the beginning of summer.
Which meant my job should have been simple. In the city, it wasnt hard to find someone looking for a quick getaway. Someone looking for a snowstorm in June. I never really sought people out; they just found me. I guess I just had that look about me.
Sitting there in the cool of the shade, the city going on around me, it was easy to think on all the things that made up my tangled life. To think on Trinity, her soft skin and devil grin, her ice blue eyes. And Crimson, who should have been my best friend but had somehow become the enemy. I so loathed him for the way he held her. I was just me, alone.
It would have been nice to smoke a bowl. Nicer to snort a line, but that was a curse even I didnt not wish to be inflicted with. Still, I was craving an escape. This world just wasnt doing it for me anymore.
Just when I was toying with the idea of giving up, a shadow fell ovesr me. I looked up, all blank expressions, because people like me werent supposed to have emotions. The person before me was vaguely familiar, with a disheveled shock of dull blonde hair and and tired eyes that bled misery. "Trevor."
I rose to my feet. "Hey, man. What's up?"
I should have known his name, but couldnt bring myself to care. The blonde shrugged. "Life's shit, Trevor. You know that." I nodded, even thought I had no idea what his story was. Call me self absorbed, but I had my own shit to dwell on.
"Yeah," I do." We were walking now, slowly, pretending to notice the breeze in the vibrant green leaves. We didnt, of course. We never noticed things like that. "So, what are you looking for?"
He glanced around uncomfortable. "I really was just gunna get some weed. But," he paused, "it's just not doing it anymore."
The look I gave him was hard. I wanted to pity him, for the tides were high in the sea he was about to dive into. Instead I could only stare at him and know that he was a reflection of myself. And I'd long since given up on self pity.
"I can give you two grams of each, but it wont be cheap." Of course not. I was convienent. I was well stocked. I knew the game well. Therefore I could make up my own rules.
"Would one-fifty be enough?" The blonde was looking at me with wide, desperate. Not pleading, just lost. I bit my tongue until a bubble of blood arose to offer me soem clarity.
"Fine," I said because I didnt know what to say. "Let's go to the Met."
"Thank you," he said, but I held up a hand.
"I'm killing you," I said gravely. "Dont ever thank a drug dealer."