'Little early for your next fix, isn't it?' I said.
'Why wait?' He patted the box of junk cuddled in his lap.
The woman took the syringe from him and set it on the table. 'You won't need any of that. We kept it around for those who have to be elsewhere — say, if you had an appointment to keep or if Joe were running an errand — but here we do it differently.'
'Snort?' Farmer was disgusted. 'Lady, I'm way past the snort stage.'
She gave a refined little laugh and moved around the coffee table to sit down beside him. 'Snort. How revolting. There's no snorting here. Take off your jacket.'
Farmer obeyed, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch. She pushed up his left shirtsleeve and studied his arm.
'Hey, China,' Farmer said, watching the woman with junkie avidity, 'gimme your belt.'
'No belt,' said the woman. 'Sit back, relax. I'll take care of everything.' She touched the inside of his elbow with two fingers and then ran her hand up to his neck. 'Here is actually a lot better.'
Farmer looked nervous. 'In the neck? You sure you know what you're doing? Nobody does it in the neck.'
'It's not an easy technique to master but it's far superior to your present methods. Not to mention faster and far more potent.'
'Well, hey.' Farmer laughed, still nervous. 'More potent, sure, I'm for that.'
' Relax' the woman said, pushing his head back against the couch. 'Joe's done it this way a lot of times, haven't you, Joe?'
I looked at his neck but I didn't see anything, not even dirt.
The woman loosened Farmer's collar and pushed his hair back, ignoring the fact that it was badly in need of washing. She stroked his skin with her fingertips, making a low, crooning noise, the kind of sound you'd use to calm a scared puppy. 'There, now,' she murmured, close to Farmer's neck. 'There it is, there's our baby. All nice and strong. That's a good one.'
Farmer moaned pleasurably and reached for her but she caught his hand and held it firmly on his thigh.
'Don't squirm around now,' she said. 'This won't take long. Not very long.'
She licked his neck.
I couldn't believe it. Farmer's dirty old neck. I'd have licked the sidewalk first. And this woman — I looked at Joe but he was watching the woman run her tongue up Farmer's neck and still no expression on him, as though he were watching a dull TV programme he'd already seen.
Farmer's eyelids were at half-mast. He gave a small laugh. 'Tickles a little.'
The woman pulled back and then blew on the spot gently.
'There now. We're almost ready.' She took the box of heroin from his lap.
I didn't want to see this. I looked at Joe again. He shook his head slightly, keeping his gaze on the woman. She smiled at me, scooped up a small amount of heroin and put it in her mouth.
'Fucking lowlife,' I said, but my voice sounded far away. The woman nodded, as if to tell me I had it right and then, fast, like a snake striking, she clamped her mouth on Farmer's neck.
Farmer jumped slightly, his eyes widening. Then he went completely slack, only the woman's mouth on him holding him up.
I opened my mouth to yell, but nothing came out. As though there was a field around me and Joe that kept us still.
She seemed to stay like that on Farmer's neck for ever. I stood there, unable to look away. I'd watched Farmer and Joe and the rest of them fix countless times. The scene played in my brain, the needle sliding into skin, probing, finding the vein and the blood tendriling in the syringe when it hit. Going for the boot because it made the rush better. Maybe this made the rush better for both of them.
Time passed and left us all behind. I'd thought it was too soon to fix again, but yeah, it would figure that she'd have to get them while they were still fucked up, so they'd just sit there and take it. Hey, was that last fix a little strange? — Strange? What's strange? Nod.
Then the woman drew her head back a little and I saw it. A living needle, like a stinger. I wished I were a fainter so I could have passed out, shut the picture off, but she held my gaze as strongly as she held Farmer. I'd come to see Joe and this was part of it, package deal. In another part of my mind, I was screaming and yelling and begging Joe to take us both out of there, but that place was too far away, in some other world where none of this was possible.
She brought her mouth down to Farmer's neck again, paused, and lifted her head. There was a small red mark on Farmer's skin, like a vaccination. She wallowed and gave me that professional smile.
'That's what he came here for,' she said. 'Now, shall I do the next one, Joe, or would you like to?'
'Oh, Jesus, Joe,' I said. 'Oh, Jesus .'
'I don't like boys,' he said. And blinked.
'Oh, Jesus . . .'
'Well, there's only one girl here for you.' She actually crinkled her nose.
'No. No , oh, Jesus, Joe ' I grabbed two fistfuls of his bathrobe and shook him. He swayed in my grasp and it felt like I was shaking a store mannequin. Even in his deepest junked-out stupor he'd been a million times more alive then he was now. My late brother, Joe, the original lost boy now lost for all time, the disposable man finally disposed of.
