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realized that he’d been ripped off in his Missouri gig. Basically, the promoter claimed 251 people showed up at the concert and offered him a check based on that number, while Dash said it was more like 600 people, at least, and rejected their offer. Just before he dropped me at the gas station I said, “So you didn’t get any money at all for your concert?”
    â€œDon’t worry, I will. I’m gonna sue their ass and get twice what they owe me.”
    He pulled to a stop by the convenience store and I got out.
    â€œI’ll call you if I have to stay a long time,” he said before driving away.
    It was cold out and already getting dark. I didn’t want to look around at the dealers or cops, and kept my eyes straight ahead like a soldier while I paced. My ex used to make fun of my pacing. She made fun of my worrying too. “What’s a big guy like you worry about so much?” she’d say in the friendly, sexy way she used to tease me during our first few months. Then, toward theend of our relationship, her tone of voice completely changed as she’d run through my defects. Also, it suddenly became a much longer list. Of course, those kinds of changes always happen when things go bad. I was shocked when she left me, yet I’d always worried that she would, that I wasn’t enough for her. I used to smoke pot to help feel confident with her. Then I got her to smoke with me while we made love and it was out of this world sweet. But when we started to argue (I never trusted her with men) the pot made us paranoid at times and we’d have to take ’ludes to calm down. That reminded me that I forgot to give Dash the money for Quaaludes, forgot to even remind him to ask for some from the source.
    â€œShit,” I muttered, then looked up and saw Dash’s car, back already.
    â€œGet in,” Dash said. “He wasn’t home.” I wanted to make him promise right then to never drive me there again unless he talked to the source first. That just because you wanted someone to be home didn’t mean they would be, but I held back. The dealer’s depression was obvious. He made more cell phone calls in the car, obsessively going over the details of how he was cheated. Then, a block from my condominium, he asked me if he could use my computer again and I said OK.
    â€œI’ve been a real pill to be with today, brother,” Dash suddenly said as he parked. “First I take you for a ride, then I make all those phone calls and barely talk to you at all and now I need to use your computer again.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it, that’s nothing,” I said.
    â€œThanks, bro,” he said, as he disappeared into the little room that seemed barely big enough to contain him. “I’ll only be about five minutes.”
    I paced the hallway while he used my computer, periodically looking at my watch. When seven minutes passed I ducked into the room and asked him how things were coming.
    â€œCheck this out,” he said, indicating the screen that was full of photographs of women. “I’ve already boned two of them on this screen alone.”
    â€œWho are they?” I blurted, trying to hide my irritation.
    â€œThey’re from Match.com . They’re a gold mine of pussy, man, you should check it out.”
    â€œYuh,” I said softly, thinking of my own experiences with Internet dating, which was full of much less happy stories. “So how are things with Maryann?”
    â€œIt’s all over,” he said, as he flicked to another screen full of young women.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œWe’re still best friends but I’m not doing her anymore. Yeah, I’ve already moved out of her place.”
    â€œSo are you staying in your office?”
    â€œNo, there’s mold there now. The last storm it got flooded and now there’s mold. Hey, you’ve got a lot of space, you want to rent me a