Chapter 7

• Kat produced a stainless steel straw from a small makeup bag. It must have been her roadie kit. She rapidly inhaled one line, leaned her head back and sniffed again, then rubbed her nostril from the outside with a finger. She breathed in deeply. "This shit is so fucking pure," she said. "An old coworker can get the best blow. You'd like her."
• I smiled. The possibilities already started to swim in my head. This iceberg was going to be full of fun surprises, I guessed.
• She leaned back down, repeated the same ritual with the second line, and passed me the straw. It had been a few months. But in my life, coke had been around plenty from time to time, from college on. It was my sophomore year in college at a big state school, when I went to a party with a bunch of the cheerleading team, that I developed the coke fetish. They were all using it, snorting lines, doing bumps, body blows, you name it. It was so erotic. It seemed so freeing. And it was fun from time to time. Almost too fun.