U.S. Blues by Ed Watts

Author:Ed Watts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction, 80s, hippies, 60s, united states, detective fiction, grateful dead, jam bands, phish
Publisher: Ed Watts

Chapter 24

Pete walked out of the gas station and down to the highway. He decided to hitchhike. Pete generally tried to avoid hitchhiking – too many weirdos out on the road – but he decided he had no other choice. He stuck his thumb out. What could happen on such a short ride?

He found one last hash joint in his tee-shirt pocket and took it out, careful not to drop it. He lit it. Pretty soon, between the hash and the hot sun of the late afternoon and the lack of water and the weight of having to think about money for the first time in a couple weeks, Pete was tired and confused.

A shabby Chevy Caprice pulled over to pick him up. A skinny young man was behind the wheel. He was the only one in the car.

“You going to the show man?” the driver said.

“Yeah, brother. Can you give an old head a lift?”

“Hop in.”

Pete had a moment of hesitation, but he decided he wasn’t likely to get another ride stuck out on some straight commuter highway and the driver couldn’t have weighed more than 120 pounds, so he got in.

The guy peeled out as soon as Pete closed the door. The tires squealed.

“Dominic,” the driver said by way of introduction. As he said it, he pointed to his neck, upon which was emblazoned a tattoo of himself, a portrait of his own face in black ink, with his name “Dominic ‘D.D.’ Depinto” tattooed underneath.

“Alligator.”

They shook hands. Dominic’s hands were all sweaty. He looked like a speed freak. He had the pasty skin and dark circles under his eyes and the general impression that his head was exploding. He wore an old hooded blue sweatshirt (even though it was quite warm out).

“I have to pick up a friend,” Dominic said.

Dominic exited the highway and drove into a seedy area on the outskirts of town. He stopped the car in front of an older apartment building, a former mansion chopped up into four apartments. Dominic honked the horn. Pete got worried. He thought he could defend himself against Dominic alone, but who knew how the friend would change the equation.

A fat guy came running out a minute later. He had a ponytail on either side of his head, a long chin-beard, wore some crazy pants and a beanie hat with the little twirley blade on top. “That’s my friend Zog.”

Zog got in the car. “Whoa, man,” he said. “Company.”

“This is Pete,” Dominic said.

“Is he cool?” Zog said to Dominic.

“Yeah, he’s cool.”

“Good,” Zog said, “because I have some great news. Tip-top news. Excellent news. I’ve been geeking out over it all day.”

“What is it man?” Dominic said.

“I just bought some A925.”

“Bullshit,” Dominic said. “Where would you get any A925?”

“I got it man. I bought some today. Pure A925. Can’t reveal my sources. Sworn to secrecy. Under threat of death. But, yeah, totally, pure A925. The real stuff.”

Pete had never heard of anything called A925.

“Did you try any yet?” Dom said, and started driving again.

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