7.

When Alex came out of the shower he regarded the strange woman with excitement. He did not notice that the window was broken where she’d entered and assumed Marty had invited her here. Marty had held out some hope that Alex would know who she was, but it was obvious he didn’t. He giggled like a puppy-love teen and joked with her and she laughed at all his jokes although it was obvious she didn’t know what any of them meant.

Alex sank his morning bongs as the stranger every now and then sucked down another rock of crack. Marty sat disconsolate at the thought that she now felt welcome and so chances were even slimmer that she would leave. He was relatively certain she was a hooker so he thought perhaps she might bring in some money if her stay was prolonged, but then he remembered she was a crackhead and despaired that there would be absolutely no positive gain in having her around.

“We’ve got a problem Alex,” he said. “I mean, we’re talking rent or electricity.”

Alex rubbed the strange woman’s knee through her black, medium-length skirt. She giggled a false giggle. She still hadn’t told them her name.

“The way I look at it,” said Marty, “is that if we pay the electric, but get kicked out, paying the electric won’t do us any damn good. I say we subsist on flashlights so we can at least get the rent, and won’t be out on the street.”

Alex ignored him; and the woman said, staring into Alex’s eyes, “What do you think my eyes are saying?”

“I think they’re saying stuff about . . . about flowers and stuff. You know, pretty stuff,” said Alex.

She giggled again.

“Hey, Marty,” said Alex. “Hey, we still got about six hits of acid right?”

“We’ve got to decide,” said Marty--“electric or rent. Both are past due, and my unemployment’s used up. But we ought to go and get you hooked up with unemployment. We should do that--today I mean.”

Alex went to the freezer and returned with a small piece of tin foil bound around a few tabs of acid.

“What do you say we all do some tripping tonight?” he said with a wide smile.

“I don’t give it away, give it away for free!” said the old hooker. She smiled and her eyes crinkled and the wrinkles around her mouth spread out like a topographical map.

“What do you say, Marty?” said Alex.

“The electric--the electric is like gonna be shut off tomorrow. But the landlord won’t let us slide so much as ten bucks more without an eviction, so I say we subsist on flashlights till we can get back on our feet.”

Alex wasn’t listening. He’d already put two tabs on his tongue, then the hooker stuck her tongue out at him, and he placed two tabs there.

“There’s two left, Marty,” said Alex.

Marty stood and walked out the door. “I’ve got to fucking think. But save that acid for me in case I change my mind. Hear me?”

“I hear you,” said Alex.

“Save it. I mean it. I’m going for a walk.”

He wandered out the door in his socks, then, after having gone down the outer stairs he looked at his bare socks, and turned around to go back inside for his shoes. When he came back in he saw Alex and the hooker swapping spit in a major way. “I mean it,” he said--“save the acid in case I change my mind.”