Gary the coke dealer lived in the apartment above me once, which was handy. He was a good-looking guy with a nice tan and short hair and had an endless procession of women in and out of that apartment. He claimed to be a Navy officer attached to the CIA, but I never saw any proof.
He came by once while Scooter and his old lady were visiting and let us know there was free coke up at his place. Scooter and his wife declined but I went upstairs, planning to do a couple of bumps then come back down to my guests.
Gary’s apartment was an efficiency, like mine, but the room was dominated by a California King bed outfitted with a black satin comforter and a mountain of black satin pillows. There wasn’t much room for anything but the bed but what he had was well organized, like this cinder-block battery caddy I put together today.
I spent the next few hours snorting free coke and drinking free beer and when I finally got back to my apartment, Scooter and his wife were gone.