NINE
Oliver carefully rolled out of the tangled sheets of the bed. He and Cyllvia had consumed every smooth and lab-produced crystal of the Blue. The intense high it gave them overwhelmed anything Zippy, or any other dealer, had ever sold to them on the streets of Portland. For a few hours, Chase Mattingly did not occupy a space in Oliver’s brain. Now that the morning rays entering the apartment pierced Oliver’s aching head, he contemplated renewing the search for Zippy for another baggie of the Blue to get him through his day.
Oliver did not want to disturb Cyllvia’s slumber. He tip-toed to a nightstand on the side of the bed, where Cyllvia had placed her elastic tubing and syringe. He opened the drawer, hoping to find a small rock of the inferior twenty-dollar baggie of crank pro
