13
"Jerry boy!" Dirty Danny said, catching Jeremy's limp as he approached, then fixating on his nose. "What the fuck happened to you, man?"
True to her word, Dawn had dropped him off at the front door and was double-parked outside now, waiting for him. He'd had a bad moment when he'd stepped inside and hadn't seen Dirty Danny at the bar, but then he'd spotted him moving away from one of the booths, stuffing something in his pocket along the way—a completed sale.
"Guess," Jeremy said, looking him in the eye.
Danny grinned and shrugged. "I dunno. Get hit by a truck or something?"
Apparently no word had got back to Work about what had happened. Good. He didn't want to be embarrassed to show his face here.
"Close enough. I'm hurtin a bit. Got any Vikes?"
Danny grinned as his hand slid toward his pocket. "Does the pope shit in the woods? You want brand name or generic?"
"What's the diff?"
"Brand goes for three times more. Same stuff in the pill, but some people just gotta see that VICODIN stamped on it."
"Not me. Dozen generics'll do." He kept his voice level, casual. "Could use a few roofies too."
Danny's eyebrows rose. "You want to forget about the accident?"
"Maybe. How much I need for a good night's sleep?"
He'd pulled out half a dozen little snack-size baggies and was sorting through them.
"A one-milligram tab oughta do it."
"And what if I want some heavy forgetting?"
Danny grinned again and nudged him with an elbow. "Looking to get into someone's panties?"
Jeremy gave him an offended look that was only part put-on. He didn't need a date-rape drug.
"You think 1 can't get there on my own?"
"No-no. 1 think that young thing you've got hanging on you—"
"Name's Dawn."
"Right. Dawn. I think she proves you've got mucho mojo."
"The forgettin dose?" Getting info out of this asshole was like pulling teeth. "The fer-sure dose is five migs with booze, a few more without. Goes to work in fifteen-twenty minutes."
"Gimme a dozen."
"You got it."