The good parties always turn out to be good only afterward. There hasn’t been one where I’ve gone to with full comfort. This may be due to the place where the parties were held because the same people seemed to go everywhere. You could play bingo after visiting a few.
Some parties turned out to be quite a good time and if not, I just disappeared and sat down on a booster seat or a park bench or whatever my skinny ass had room for and looked into the night sky until the stars shrouded under the light smog were no longer a sight for me to behold.
At one of the parties I was dragged to by Ätz, I met this student. The party was hosted by a friend of another dealer, with whom Ätz regularly had friendly conversations. It was just about business.
Ätz liked to talk about the business and even though I was deeply involved in it, I left the communicative part to him, as well as the role of the strong man. He was better at it than I was. Practice like he meant, but the boy just had charisma. What part of our partnership I took on was still not clear to me. He could have done it all by himself, he didn’t need me. He spoke of me as a backup, but there was nothing that put me to the test.
They guy Ätz came for, Dominik, the dealer, wanted to quit, had finished his studies, that he had financed himself with the drug money and found a job as an accountant. Ätz wanted to take over his customer base, he supplied him when Dominik’s Connect didn’t give anything away. Ätz saw in that a way to expand the business.
“You’ve had our stuff. You know how good it is. You know that we are fair, and I know that some of these people are your friends – or have become your friends”.
His dentist smile broke the image of his black skin.
“The way I got to know you, I am sure you only want the best for your friends”
“You’ve always been fair, Ätz” he agreed.
I was bored with the details of the takeover. When they began to talk about the number in Dominik’s herd, my drink was all gone, I separated myself from them.
The tables of the whole flat were littered with plastic cups, but far and wide no bottle was to be seen. I squeezed my way through the crowds in the kitchen, I suspected was where I would find supplies. I found the kitchen quickly, but it was also full of people. I made my way past a tanned guy who just pressed a young, pretty thing against the wall and fingered her under her skirt. She moaned into my ear while I poured myself my whiskey.
I filled the cup to the brim, left the coke out of the picture and watched the two of them until she noticed me, called me a “pig”. I screwed up the tour for him. She didn’t let him touch her again, not even after his begging. I disappeared with my new plastic cup before he realized who he should be angry with.
I slipped past the talking masses. I wanted to get entertained myself, but the themes I heard as I walked by the formed clusters bored me to death. One group talked about the superiority of the politics of the left, the others about their bright future, yet another group about their favorite Starbucks coffee.
I was trapped between what was considered the great minds of the future and they only talked about shit and smog and themselves. Freeing from this narrow selection, I sat down on a couch with a group talking about literature, I knew my way around books better than with Starbuck’s coffee. J. K. Rowling came up and I realized that these people here hadn’t read a single good book in their life.
I boozed my frustration and myself away. The cup was emptied quickly as I heard about the influence the young magician’s story had on the lives of those present. I burst out laughing and under questioning faces, got up wordless and went back to the kitchen to get myself another drink.
“Who was the madman?” I heard them saying behind my back.
I refilled the tank and instead of returning to my new friends, I was looking for better pastimes. I didn’t have to look far. In the kitchen, I saw a girl tampering with the cutlery drawer, skilled for the shaky, long legs she was standing on. She looked around, and when no one looked, she stuck cutlery in the bulges of her dress. I watched her steal stainless steel for a while and when I had had enough fun, I touched her on the shoulder and scared, she dropped a spoon.
“What the fuck do you want?” she told me.
“Why do you steal stainless steel cutlery?” I asked her.
“Why don’t you steal one?”
I took the spoon off the floor and put it in my pocket.
“Hehe, I like you… what’s your name?”
“Short for Natalie”, she grunted drunk and dropped her head back and forth laughing. I smiled at her silly joke and handed her my cup. She smelled it and it disgusted her face.
“Did forget the coke, Nat?”
“I like you, Nat,” she said again, drank from the whiskey cup, gave it back to me and touched me on my upper arm. At her request, I conjured her a Malibu rum with Orange juice, badly mixed. By now I also found it hard to put the bottle down properly as we sat next to each other at the dining room table.
“You know, Nat, when I was a kid, I almost drowned”
“Really? I killed a rabbit when I was a kid.”
“That’s terrible. Was the rabbit all right?”
“Yes, the rabbit was fine.”
“Good” she smiled.
“What’s your name anyway?”
“Like the roofies?”
“No, like a rod in German only with H instead of the E at the back”
Ruth said she wanted to go home. I joined her. Ätz remained. We walked downstairs from the apartment, waiting for the taxi I ordered on the way down. We both smoked a single cigarette, passed it from to the other and she came closer.
“The 8 on your forearm, where did you get it from?” she asked me when she was fiddling with me.
“She’s from another life,” I said and stayed with it, although Ruth wasn’t satisfied and begged for an answer. She changed her tactics.
“What does it mean?”
I kissed her, so she’d forget me to answer. Just because I told it didn’t mean she understood, so I didn’t tell her. I drove my hand up on the back of her thigh, I grabbed her ass. I pinched her cheek while our tongues clumsily intertwined. I pressed her closer to me, my other hand wandered up to her neck, while the one from the butt raised along the notch of her spine. After a while, we separated. She looked at me with big eyes.
“Show me your apartment, Nat”
She threw up twice in the cab. I gave the driver an extra tip for the cleaning service. I dragged her to the front door. She was powerless from the booze, mumbling only in sentences that either just started or stopped. At every staircase, we climbed together her dress clanked. I had completely forgotten the stainless steel.
When I reached the top, I undressed her, her body felt good, I threw the stainless-steel cutlery on the bedside table. I put her to bed and threw myself on the couch. I wasn’t a gentleman. I was just too tired to wake her up again.
“Nat” she called out to me just as I closed my eyes. I threw myself in bed with her. She smelled of vomit and orange juice.
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