Stark: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

negligee as she struggled somehow increased his impatience. He was moving forward to get it himself when she turned.
    “Here it is,” she said. She came lithely down from the chair, extending the outfit. He took it wordlessly and spun back to the tiny bathroom.
    Stark was beside the sink. He had taken the spoon from the medicine cabinet and it lay on the yellowed porcelain. In the spoon was white powder.
    “Let me have it.” Stark said.
    “Have what?” Momo asked.
    “The fit.” He gestured to the spread-out paraphernalia. “I’m ready and I’m in a hurry. Let me go first.”
    Momo looked at the spoon and shook his head incredulously. “You’ve got balls. This is my pad. I fix first. Ain’t that right, baby?”
    Dorie smiled enigmatically and shrugged. She wouldn’t take sides.
    “What the hell are you trying to pull?” Momo flared.
    “Shouldn’t a good host let a guest, a paying guest, go first?” said Stark.
    Momo’s face flushed. His jaws flexed and his lips pressed tightly. He did not like Stark’s thinly veiled sarcasm.
    “Are ya lookin’ for a trip to the hospital?” Momo asked. He leaned forward in a challenge.
    Stark saw the danger and shifted gears. He grinned widely and slapped Momo on the shoulder. “Man, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to pull a fast one, and I don’t want to hassle with you. You’re my pal… and the best connection in town. And you ain’t no chump. I know that. It’s just that I’m in a hurry, got things on my mind.” He spoke fast, joshingly, with seeming sincerity.
    Momo’s face softened. He looked down. “Okay, man, let it go. Forget it. I just lost my temper for a second.”
    “You ought to apologize for threatening your friends,” Stark chided. “Instead, let me fix first and then I’ll know you’re sorry.”
    Momo froze, blinked, and then guffawed. He waved a hand toward the sink. “Be my guest.” He turned to Dorie, who had watched intently. “This guy could sell chastity belts to prostitutes. But I like him, the bastard.”
    “Yes, I know. He’s attractive, in a dumb kind of way. A real hustler.”
    Stark brushed Dorie with a sharp glance. She had made several strange remarks in the brief minutes since he met her. She had a weird quickness of mind he liked but that could be dangerous. He would have to watch her, but damn it if she didn’t have his number.
    “Do me a favor, baby,” he said. “Get me something to tie off with.”
    “An old nylon of mine. How’s that?” Her eyebrows raised in mock coquettishness and her voice was affectedly husky, a little Veronica Lake. She, too, was a blonde.
    “That’ll do it,” he said. He ignored the gambit.
    Momo was too preoccupied in unwrapping the makeshift hypodermic kit to notice the exchange. He placed the needle and eyedropper next to the spoon, and then half filled a glass with water.
    “Make it quick,” he said. “I’m next.” Stark ignored both Momo and Dorie. She left the bathroom to fetch the nylon. The shapely dame moved with the swift sureness of a priest performing a grotesque ritual. The needle was fitted onto the eyedropper, the tip of which was wrapped in black thread. Water was sucked from the glass through the needle to make sure it would not clog. A much smaller amount of water was drained into the powder-filled spoon. Several matches were lit simultaneously, the scent of burning sulphur rising up to churn Stark’s stomach with nausea. The spoon was moved over the flame and the powder dissolved, becoming a steamy clear liquid tinted faintly brown.
    Stark carefully placed the spoon on the sink and picked up a tiny piece of cotton. He rolled it between thumb and forefinger into a hard little ball, and dropped it into the bubbling junk. With trembling fingers he pressed the tip of the needle against the cotton and sucked up the liquid. He handed the eyedropper to Momo — whose eyes were glittering black — and shed his coat. Dorie had returned, the stocking stretched