Red Baker by Robert Ward Page A

darkness, because I didn’t want anybody to see me here. Nobody who stands in the Dr. Raines line wants to be there. No one can take his stress pills without feeling shame. But there were a hell of a lot of guys I knew trying to act casual about it.
    “Hey, Ralph. Hey, Teddy, what’s happening?”
    Ten years ago when we thought we knew the world, these same guys were ready to kick kids’ asses who were on dope. Commies, queers, scum.
    I think we may have been right about some of it, even now.
    I remember when the hippies said live for today, tear it all down, start a new world, we were the guys who screamed remember your families, remember what made the country great, remember who died in World War II to give you your freedom, but now we were in the dope line, and I don’t know how it happened. Somehow we had all become the just-live-for-today guys.
    Nobody understands this.
    I stood in the line, the wind whipping over my soaked clothes, and I took out a bent, wet Marlboro, and Jackie Gardner in front of me cupped his hands around it while I lit up. Trying to stand there looking like a man. But it’s hard to feel strong waiting in a dope line for thin, blank-faced Dr. Raines. I prayed that Ace wouldn’t come by with his friends and see me here. Maybe he was getting to the age when he knew. Of course he was.
    Whatever happened to me, don’t let Ace come by here now, God.
    “Hey, Bill, yeah, going up to see the old doc. Got a little flu.”
    I moved up another step, inch by inch, watching my buddies come and go, making quiet small talk, everybody with their hands stuffed way down in their pockets, guys looking down at the ground, shuffling their feet, pretending it’s a voting line, a movie line, a nightclub line, a ball game line, anything but what it is, which is a dope line.
    Shame moved up and down my arms, giving me the old electric tattoo.
    Damned shame, like a shadow over the lie that promises you can forget the shame and pain itself.
    I waited, the cold cutting through my coat, my teeth chattering. Lines, endless lines, and Porter playing with me, knowing about my record. Knowing all along, knowing that I couldn’t even afford to break his head. Ruby leaving town, Crystal waiting for me, Wanda counting on me. Ace.
    A black Merc pulled up to the corner. It was Choo Choo Gerard, and I put my head down in my coat further and turned my face to the snow.
    But Choo Choo is sharp. He saw me. Called out my name.
    “Hey, Red, you getting the health food diet?”
    Blazek was with him. Broken nose and big split lips. He laughed, sending a spray of spittle out the window.
    “Yeah, Red. You look a little fat.”
    “Why don’t you get an operation and have a brain put behind your face, Blazek.”
    “You cocksucker. You junkie cocksucker. I should bust him right now, huh, Choo?”
    Choo Choo reached over and touched Blazek lightly on the leg, and The Animal froze.
    “Red, come on over here a minute.”
    “It’s all right,” Jackie Gardner said. “I gotcha covered.”
    I walked over to the side of the car. It made me jumpy to talk with Choo Choo. I felt like Wanda or Ace was hovering over me, watching my every move.
    “So how’s it going, Red?”
    “It’s going.”
    “You hear the news? They might not be opening up down there at all.”
    “I heard.”
    “Talks like a tough guy,” Blazek said. “You a tough guy, Baker? Or just another junkie?”
    “You might find out sometime.”
    “Shut up, Blazek,” Choo Choo said softly. “You aren’t talking to an asshole. Red is a friend of mine. Though I don’t see him as much as I’d like. Listen, Red, how’s Ace going?”
    “He’s okay.”
    “Hey, I know he’s okay. I seen him the other day up to St. Mary’s.
    This is no shit. He played Bobby Mason. I mean, what’s Bobby, three inches taller? And you know Ace beat him one-on-one by something like sixteen to seven. Ate him up. What’s he, fourteen?”
    “Sixteen,” I said.
    “Kid’s good, Red. Hope