Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight He'd barely hung up from leaving his message when his phone rang. His arm felt unusually heavy as he picked it up. "Hello." The usual euphoric sensation that he got from his precious white stuff was changing. Rapidly. "Hi, Harry. You don't sound so good." "Suddenly, I'm not feeling well." "I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do for you?" "We need to meet George. I have something to tell you. No, ask you. No …" His tongue felt awfully thick, awkward. "Oh, what would that be? Tell me now, so I know what I'm getting into. This sounds serious." "I know about you. Ozz won't like it … owe me … Sam dead. Peter … Cora …" "Harry? You're not making sense. I can barely hear you. Harry? Call me back when you're not drunk." "No. Not …" The phone slipped through his fingers.
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