"You ready for tonight?" he asks me.
"I can't wait!"
Baxter gives me a knowing look. We've been planning this party for a long time, and we intend to make the most of it. We take my buddy's car, and that's when the party starts… or the shit hits the fan, I guess. The whole experience is just a blur of alcohol, weed, and speed. At one point, I fall asleep in the passenger seat, and it's a jolt followed by a sudden brake that brings me back.
"What the hell was that!" I shout.
Behind the wheel, Baxter bursts out laughing, "Just some stupid dog! Don't worry!"
I look around as the streets of New York scroll by outside the window. We're approaching a neighborhood I don't recognize.
"What are we doing here?" I ask Baxter. He doesn't answer and slows down to pull over to the curb. A few seconds later, a guy emerges from the shadows to approach the car.
Baxter lowers his window to talk to him. "You got what I asked for?"
The stranger's gaze shifts from my friend to me, and I feel uncomfortable. I push away the sensation, blaming it on whatever Baxter had me smoke. If Coach knew what I was putting into my body, he'd be furious, but I couldn't care less! It’s not football season right now, and all I want is to be high enough to forget my shitty life.
"Yeah," the guy finally answers. "You got the cash?"
Baxter hands him a small wad of bills and the other gives him a little bag. I don't know exactly what it contains, but I can guess.
My friend makes the bag disappear into his pocket.
"Can you drop me downtown?" the stranger asks.
I'd prefer Baxter to refuse, but he replies, "Yeah, go ahead and get in."
With one last look, the guy opens the back door and slides onto the seat. Baxter pulls away and picks up speed. He's driving way faster than the speed limit.
"Where are you guys headed?" the stranger asks. Baxter and I exchange glances, and I shake my head to tell him not to say anything, but he's too high to show any good judgment. Unless he's just an idiot, but I'm too drunk and my thoughts stop there.
"We're planning to do some decorating," he finally replies. "Want to join us?"
The guy's response escapes me, but he's still with us when the car stops in an alley in Manhattan, not far from the building we're interested in.
"Damn, this is going to be so good!" Baxter exclaims. He's taken the little bag from his pocket, and I don't know if he's talking about the drugs or what we're about to do. A minute later, he's carefully chopping a line of white powder on his credit card before bringing it to his nose. He snorts it quickly, then closes his eyes for a moment.
"That's the good stuff," he breathes with an ecstatic look on his face.
"I told you," the guy in the back responds.
Baxter reopens his eyes and offers me his card and the bag, but I shake my head. He doesn't take offense at my refusal. We get out of the car and Baxter opens the trunk where he retrieves two baseball bats. He hands me one before addressing the guy I consider his dealer, "You want one or do you prefer the crowbar?"
The other doesn't show the slightest surprise when he grabs the twin of my bat. Baxter takes the crowbar and slams the trunk shut.
"I'm almost hard," he declares.
Without going that far, I also feel a kind of excitement at the thought of what we're about to do.When we reach the door Iknow so well, I don't hesitate at all. I punch the code into the digital lock and the door opens noiselessly.
After one last glance at the deserted street, we enter the building. The hallway is lit only by emergency signs, but the dim light doesn't prevent me from finding my way, and I lead my accomplices to the stairs.
"Too bad we're not taking the elevator," Baxter remarks.
We finally push open the door to the offices we're targeting, and I head straight for the one that occupies an entire quarter of one floor of the building.
When the three of us are in the room, I address my companions:
"Super smash brothers time!"
