Jonathan
The nite shift fell on me. I already knew it was going to be tough, the commotion in front of the bar was just like that. That improvised gazebo going on, the guys drumming on a styrofoam box, others clapping, beer in hand, loud laughter, the neighborhood alive, as always.
I was moving among them, smoking my joint, glancing sideways at everyone, marking who came in and who went out. Every laugh, every whisper, every misstep, I was watching. It wasn't a night to let my guard down.
The conversation, as always, turned to the usual trash talk. One was talking about the girl he hooked up with at the party, another bragging about hooking up with two in the same day. That same old spiel, which we listen to more to be present than out of real interest.
And the drugs being sold at t
