The Chemist

Chapter 9

April 18th, 4:15 p.m. The Lower East Side, New York City

This chapter is dedicated to my sister-in-law, Jennifer Abrams, who bears no resemblance whatsoever to Kate's friend except for the fact that she also grew up on Long Island.

The call from the taxi was a "heads-up" to Kate's dealer. It was time to restock. Sure, Jared had just supplied her with some, but she knew that would only get her to next Thursday. Once a month, she would receive an envelope with a scrap of paper and a scrawled phone number jotted on it.

She took her downtown jaunts in stride, they were the most exciting activity she had going on in her life. It was an adventure, a walk on the wild side for a well-to-do white girl from the Upper West Side. She grew up believing subways were beneath her, with Vanessa always dragging her along in taxis, car services or limos. Today she preferred them, if nothing else, as another rebellion against authority.

The Donnybrook tavern at the corner of Clinton and Stanton wore a gray sandstone façade with an engraved welcome that read 'Home to lively debate and raucous revelry,' though neither was going on at the time, being an hour or so before the after-work flood of patrons. The place had dark brown wooden tables and chairs, matching the bar and stools. Kate took up residence at a table against the far wall adjacent to the bar, the darkest spot in the place and stared at the brick wall. A few minutes later, a woman slid in across from her.

Her birth name was Jennifer Elizabeth Anna Marie Depietrio-Andonio, but Kate knew her only as Jen D. She wore a black penny dress, her hair and lips equally jet black. She also had that nose ring and cross bar thing going on. Kate thought the silver one impaling her right nostril to be a nice touch, too. She no doubt had put her fashion merchandizing degree from LIMCollege to good use. Her olive complexion exuded an understated sensuousness about her, like a wild provincial gypsy who had been instantly transported to the big city.

Kate appreciated the contrast: Upper West Side chic meets Lower East Side Goth. The place was upscale, but her new booth companion reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap shampoo. "You look cheery, as usual."

The brooding CatholicSchool drop-out from Valley Stream, Long Island returned fire with glib artillery. "Thanks, you look like shit...as usual." They both looked up at the distraction that was their overly-solicitous waitress and ordered lattes.

Kate had first contacted Jen through one of her short term affairs when she moved back to New York after graduate school. At that time, Jen was operating her business out of her mother's home in Long Island. Both traded catty looks with each other, but Jen's was more suspicious. Kate would lose more weight and add more years to her own face each time they met. The cover up under the eyes by now had long since worn off, her face gaunt and peaked.

Ignoring the jibe, Kate changed the subject. "So, you moved out, huh?"

Jen chortled. "Kicked out is more like it." Her arms outstretched, she rocked back and forth. "My mom just couldn't take it anymore. Threatened to burn my clothes if I didn't leave."

"Uh-oh. What'd ya do?" Kate asked with the tone a mother uses when she knows her child crapped in his pants.

"Real funny, actually," Jen answered, followed by another chortle. "One of my ex-customers somehow got a hold of my house number and spoke with my mom about when the next batch would be ready. Can you believe that shit?" Jen asked with an eye roll. "So what've you got for me?"

She caught Jen gazing at her Louis Vuitton purse, from which she removed a white envelope filled with cash. Kate plucked it from her purse and slid it to Jen across the wooden shellacked table.