The Far Country

By CJ Taylor

Jack thought he noticed a flash, like fire in the woman's eyes. He was captivated by her as she exuded sophistication, charisma and beauty...

The rich kid from out of town arrives in the Big Apple, planning to enjoy all the pleasures it offers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CJ Taylor
• Release date: Nov 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781916820883

Book preview

Chapter 1

The younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country.

Luke 15:13 (English Standard Version)

Jack Honoré drifted away as he dozed at 34,000 feet, leaving his home 240 miles behind. It was a clear blue April sky. A clear blue April sky stretched out above. He was excited but nervous.

He’d got what he wanted from his father; his inheritance, and escape to a life of freedom and indulgence where he would spend his fortune on wine, fast cars and fast women. His 'manservant,' Michael, sat by his side. When a United Airlines’ cabin hostess appeared with a drinks trolley, Jack jolted up in his seat.

Anything to drink, gentlemen?

"Thank you, I’ll have a white wine, please. Sauvignon."

Yes, sir, of course.

Just mineral water for me, said Michael.

Jack sighed, as he sipped from his glass, leaning over to watch the shapely hostess work her way down the cabin. Michael turned towards the window and rolled his eyes. He wondered what he had gotten himself into.

They had two hours to go before landing in New York. Jack became acquainted with some new details about his friend. His father had employed him in various positions: he was the son of Lebanese migrants. That was all he knew. He sensed  Michael was a private person, but he hoped to find out more about his story.

Do you mind me calling you Mike? It just sounds less formal than Michael.

He stirred from his thoughts about the oncoming venture. Hmm, you can use Mike. To anyone else, I’m Michael. It’s Mikhail in Lebanon. My full name is Michael Joseph Bashir.

I won’t ask how you spell that!

Michael holds significance as a unique name, as the archangel Michael was second in rank after Gabriel. Despite having a significant age advantage over Jack, approximately  twenty years, he managed to maintain a well-built physique and fitness for his age. He possessed strong, dark features.

As Jack downed the last of his wine, he looked in awe at his manservant. Wow, that’s some pedigree you have, Mike. I guess some angelic help looking over me is going to come in useful. He was beginning to feel agitated in the aircraft cabin, even though it was business class. He tried to suppress any doubt about what he was doing. This was a big move.

Have I burned my bridges? He wondered.

Mike, I apologize, you know I was hoping Dad would let me have his Jetstream. He said no way, and that I had made my bed and would have to lie in it."

This is fine for me. In fact, it’s an absolute luxury. I’ve been in one of your father’s jets a couple of times but, to be honest, I didn’t like it as it always felt a bit claustrophobic.

Life is going to be good, Mike, for me and you; you wait and see. The young Prince of Dreams reclined and listened to music through his headphones.

Michael was more circumspect about what lay ahead. Not least was the growing sense of responsibility he would have for Jack. He liked him but only knew him as a boy back in Paradise, the family home. He was aware that what 27-year-old possessed in confidence; he lacked in maturity.

How will he behave in this Far Country? Michael pondered.

******

The landing occurred smoothly and without delay. A shiny new hybrid Lexus Coupe caught their attention outside the airport building. It was delivered from the local dealership by a representative who showed them the paperwork and workings of the car. They signed and exchanged the papers, and then they were on their way.

The next stop was Burchester Heights, where they had rented a luxury apartment in Central Park West. Paul Honoré, Jack’s father, gave a more than satisfactory reference and, surprisingly, the building’s board of directors approved Jack, despite rejecting numerous wealthy, well-known actors and musicians. Michael had arranged the car and the apartments since he was familiar with the city, having visited several times with Jack’s father. However, current prices were considerably higher.

Michael set the sat-nav and drove to the apartment, which was an elegant but unobtrusive tower overlooking the park. After finding the registration-identifying entrance into the underground car park, they were at their journey’s end; at least physically.

You’re a star, Mike, beamed Jack. Thank you for arranging all this. I should have a chauffeur’s hat for you; it would look very smart. As Michael headed to the foyer to look for the concierge, he looked back at Jack, agreeing, with a wry smile to himself. I guess I will  wear a few different hats from now on, he thought.

They had someone take their cases up to the 23rd floor. Jack had a two-bed apartment while Michael’s was a one-bed studio. Jack strolled around his new home and his joy was ecstatic. As he walked out onto the amply spaced balcony, the view was incredible. He looked out over the city’s skyline, with its towers and peaks illuminated with a myriad of lights as dusk began to set. With the distant sounds and movements of the metropolis below, the lifeblood of Manhattan was intoxicating.

With their wardrobes furnished and showers sampled, Jack treated Michael to a 5-star dinner at The Langham on Fifth Avenue. The experience of being in Manhattan was exhilarating and surreal.

This is the finest hotel in New York, Michael, declared Jack, as they glanced up at its grand façade. They made their way up to the restaurant where a table had been reserved for them.

Have whatever you fancy, Mike, said Jack, as they perused the à la carte menu. Let’s treat ourselves; we are both princes tonight.

Just for tonight?

Come on, Mike, live a little.

Jack was ravenous, so they ordered a platter of seafood and steaks, along with French wine, followed by desserts and coffee.

Gee, this is good. I mean, we used to eat well back home, but these are the best crevettes I’ve ever tasted, said Jack. Michael nodded in agreement, with his mouth full.

Afterwards, as the prince and his sidekick sat in the plush bar drinking cocktails, Jack began to open up to Michael. How do you feel, Mike, apart from full? he asked as he sank into the cushions while swirling his cocktail and looking pleased with himself.

Well-fed and watered, Jack. It’s just kind of strange. I’m uncertain about what I am doing here. I don’t know what my role is supposed to be job-wise, but I will have to get used to not being in Paradise.

Hmm, we’ll sort that out. Tell you what; I will draw up a list of duties tomorrow. You’re already doing a great job, Mike, getting here, the car and everything. I’m sure I’m going to need you big-time. Jack sat forward, looking directly at him, and said, I mean that, Mike.

Okay, sound. Michael felt touched but didn’t show it.

Mike, I am unaware of what you are aware of regarding my family. How long have you known my father?"

It’s been around five years. I responded to a PA job posting, similar to my previous role. It turned out to be a bit more of a PA-cum-gofer, but it was fine. I have had a variety of interesting range of duties.

So, were you okay with my dad asking you to come on this mission?

Like I said, an interesting range of duties; this is just one more duty. Your father made it clear to me that this would just be a temporary arrangement, lasting no longer than six months.

You mean to look after me?

I don’t want to play the nanny, Jack. This is your call, remember? Your dad’s displeasure aside, it’s time for you to learn self-reliance.

I had to get away from home, as it had become stifling. Every day was the same; Groundhog Day. I love my father, but I felt as though I belonged someplace else. I search for something. Something I didn’t get before; a sense of life and really living. My older brother, Jude, didn’t understand me. He thought I was lazy and not willing to be part of our father’s work. That’s not true. I can work hard, but I just … I don’t know.

Michael was attentive and couldn’t help noticing that Jack’s glance had shifted to a female who had just stood up from a table and was about to leave. He sure has an eye for the women, he thought.

But I remember when you were happy and contented back home and so you just became restless; just wanted to see the other side. Was that it?

Let’s just see how it goes, eh, said Jack, as he ordered another couple of cocktails. Just one for the road, then back to our castle for some shut-eye. It’s been quite a day. He talked about his homelife growing up, and how losing his mother to cancer had affected him.

I was only eleven years old, Mike. She was beautiful and looked after me so well. I still miss her. I want to find a woman like her; to love and share my life with one day. Michael gave an approving nod.

As they headed Saab back to Burchester Heights, Michael realised that he was looking after a hurting child.

******

Next day, Jack woke refreshed, having had a good night’s sleep. The bedding supplied was perfect and the touch-control blinds on the massive windows were a joy. He loved the sensual experience of the waterfall shower in the amply sized bathroom suite.

He faced the morning as he opened the bedroom blinds. It was mid-April; not warm enough to stand for long on the balcony. The city, with all its brash confidence, shouted, ‘Here I am!’

Jack aspired for recognition in this city. So many people living here, he thought. What do they all do? Some are well-off, others immensely wealthy, but most are probably just getting by. What about the others? He had heard about the down-and-outs; the rough sleepers and drug addicts who lived on the street and queued at soup kitchens. That won’t be me, he said to himself. I’ll be on the guest lists of all the best New York society events.  Any nightclub I enter will know my name.

His thoughts turned to back home in Paradise and he wondered what his father was thinking. Is he missing me? He wondered. He thought about Jude, and imagined that he is fuming about his brother sowing his wild oats.

He switched his phone on. A message arrived from Steve, his old friend who had moved to New York  years ago. It read, ‘Welcome to the Rotten Apple, big boy! Let’s meet up soon. Give me a call.’ Jack had kept in touch with Steve, and he was glad to have a friend to help him settle into city life. He would call him later. Based on his recollection of Steve, he had a positive opinion of him, despite his tendency to be loud and often getting into trouble.

Breakfast consisted of a couple of croissants, butter sachets, and a small jar of instant coffee from the complimentary welcome pack. Jack set a tray for himself and Michael before discreetly knocking on his door. Morning, Sunshine, I’ve got some breakfast in my place.

Great, I’ll be there in five, came a reply.

As they drank black coffee and decorated the pristine kitchen with croissant pastry flakes, Jack announced his list of duties for Michael.

I quickly jotted these down earlier. Feel free to question anything, he said, handing a folded sheet of paper containing the list to Michael.

1. Do the weekly shopping for food and household goods

2. Clean the apartments

3. Be my chauffeur

4. Advise on finance

5. Make bookings for restaurants, theatres and vacations

6. Liaise with apartment management

7. Buy flowers for girlfriends (actual and potential)

8. Keep an eye on me when I’m inebriated..

9. Create a clever answerphone message for my cell phone

              10.There must be a tenth one, but I haven’t thought of it yet

Michael looked askance at Jack as he glanced at the list.

Number 4 may be tricky. Number 7 - come on, that’s me being romantic, not you.

Okay, but you have good taste.

Look out for you when you’re drunk. Hmm, so you want me to wear a Salvation Army uniform now?

Mikey, you said you were going to have to wear many different hats, said Jack, with a sly grin.

"Well, I can think of one for number 10. Not be on a 24-hour callout and be given one day off a week; and stop calling me Mikey.’’

Yeah, well, we will have to work out the exact hours.

Heck, what about my salary?

What did my dad pay you? I will pay you the same. You will just need to give me your bank details for a monthly transfer. But no, hey, I thought my dad had you on his payroll.

No, I don’t think so. This is your responsibility; you chose this life.

Ah, but I didn’t choose you to be part of it__

The dispute was interrupted by the doorbell. An elderly female greeted Jack with a full pearly-white smile. She was conservatively elegant and attractive, but too old for him, as she was probably in her fifties.

Good morning. Mr Honoré, I believe. I hope I’m not imposing, as I know you have just moved in. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Daphne Myles, President of the Burchester Heights Residents Committee.

Jack and Michael were standing in their bathrobes, still eating croissants, and were somewhat taken aback by the coiffured steel magnolia, dressed in tweed, who was standing on their threshold.

Hello, Miss, err … Mrs Myles. Excuse us, we are not long up. I would invite you in, but …

He suddenly realized that he and Michael might appear as a couple. Err … we, that is me and my staff here, Michael, have an apartment each. We don’t live together if you know what I mean.

Whatever. I won’t trouble you, Mr Honoré. It’s a pleasure to have you, and I hope that you find your stay most comfortable. We hold a monthly a residents’ meeting to address building issues and raise concerns. You are welcome to come along to the next meeting. I will keep you updated.

Daphne Myles left the apartment, leaving a fragrance of Lentheric perfume in her wake. At her departure, Jack and Michael looked at each other and burst into laughter.

Ha, ha! She’s one for you, Mike. Did you notice her sideways glance as your robe loosened?

Ha, you are a bad boy, young Jack.

Ha, you will find out just how.

Master Jack, if you come back here drunk, with an entourage of centrefold girls and a troupe of Indian elephants, I’ll know how to deal with it, eh?

"Centrefold girls? When you were my age, perhaps! Just a poop-scooper is needed for the elephants. Seriously though, Mikey, is there anything else you want to ask me?"

I will continue to do my job conscientiously and with integrity, as I did with your father. I will do my best to adjust to this change.

Thank you.

However, he continued, causing Jack to raise his eyebrows, if for any reason, the position becomes untenable, my resignation will be forthcoming.

"Hmm, I can’t imagine how that could come about, but I admire your candor, Mikey; sorry, Michael."

Jack got up out of his comfortable armchair to make an announcement. Come on, we need to exercise this shiny new credit card. Shopping is required.

Chapter 2

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

William Shakespeare: As You Like It, Act 2 Scene VII

Ascending in the sleek, carpeted elevator to the De Meyer Penthouse Suite, Jack was feeling a mixture of excitement and fear of accepting the invitation to a roof-garden cocktail party, which had come through the grapevine.

Will I fit into this world? It is so different to the one I have known, he wondered.

As he stepped into the opulent surroundings, the sound of background chatter and the tinkle of glasses arrested his senses. The style and dress sense, the like of which he wasn’t used to fascinated him.

He was greeted by the host, Caroline Goldstein.

You must be Jack, Paul’s boy. The association didn’t make him feel great.

Yeah, that’s me, the Prodigal Son. Thank you for inviting me. How do you know my father?

I don’t, but I just hear about him on the ‘wire’. There isn’t much that goes on in Manhattan that I don’t know about.

Mrs Goldstein’s diamanté necklace sparkled in the reflected light. Everything seemed to sparkle in this place. The Glitterati of Manhattan intoxicated Jack, like a rabbit caught in headlights. Or am I a fly in a spider’s web? He questioned.

She began introducing him to a group of guests. Jack, meet Peter Schwimmer. He’s a wonderfully talented photographer. I think you have an interest in the creative arts, haven’t you? Jack received a warm handshake from a pale-faced young man with dark hair as the hostess floated away to mix with other guests.

Tell me about your interest in the arts, Jack. Anything in particular, such as photography?

No, nothing in particular. I love to look at paintings, although it’s not something I’m good at myself. My mother was a talented artist. I loved to watch her at her easel, painting a scene.

We often inherit talents from a parent. Maybe you could try to develop what’s inside you, remarked the tousle-haired character. There must be many talents in your family, Jack. What are you intending to do while you are in New York?

Jack didn’t feel Peter was prying and that his question was one of genuine interest. However, although he felt at ease with him, he still felt a lurking wariness of being exposed as the black sheep of the family. He replied, I intend to get to know the place, take it in and have some fun.

Well, it’s good to meet you, Jack. Excuse me, but I have to go and fawn over some patrons over there. Jack glanced over towards a couple, trying to catch the photographer’s attention. As he left, he handed him a card and said, Here. Have an invitation to my exhibition in Chelsea. It opens next week. I think you’ll like it.

Jack nodded and, as his new acquaintance moved off into the milieu, he glanced at the invitation. At that moment, a deep warm voice assailed his senses, and he looked up into the face of a dark beauty.

Hi, I’m Malka. I thought I should keep you company as you looked a little lonely, standing here.

Dressed in red, she was tall with olive-coloured skin and a mass of dark hair.

He replied coyly, Do I look like I’m from out of town?

It’s nice to see a fresh boyish face; some fresh blood.

Jack Honoré. My pleasure.

Jack thought he noticed a flash, like fire, in her dark brown eyes. She captivated him as she exuded sophistication, charisma and beauty; the likes of which he had not come across in a female, apart from his mother who, to him, was fine in every way. But even she was not like this.

Fresh blood, eh? Is it blood you are looking for? asked Jack, rising to the moment.

In response, Malka grinned and bit her lip, which Jack found even more alluring. They were engaged with each other for what, to him, seemed a timeless moment. He told her about his homeland, his past involvement with his father and how he was looking forward to his new life in New York. He found it impressive rather than disturbing that she seemed to already know quite a lot about him,

Oh, Jack, it’s on the ‘wire’. Don’t worry, you are free here, she laughed. Ha, Mr Honoré, I know you are looking for a change. Something different; something more than you’ve had before. Are you hungry?

Jack wasn’t sure if she was referring to food or something else. He simply raised his eyebrows to indicate that further clarification was required. His heartbeat raced as Malka drew closer, with a captivating glance, and he could feel her warmth.

Maybe you just want to get close to the fire?

I like to keep the fire stoked.

Just don’t be like the moth that gets burnt by the flame, Jack. You need to get to know this town. I’m hoping we can share more moments like these.

She said goodnight and turned to go back to her friends. She left a presence even in her absence. Miss Malka left Jack with no doubt that they would meet again. At least he hoped they would.

He spent another hour exchanging small talk with other people before calling Michael to come and pick him up. He wondered if the night was going flat as he was now heading home.

Home? It’s just an apartment. I can’t call it home, Jack thought.

There was a tinge of sadness, for a moment, as he remembered that he had left his home.

From the pinnacle of the penthouse roof garden, a figure had been watching.

Chapter 3

Paul Honoré stood by his large swimming pool; his glance concentrated in the far distance. He had received an update from his servants, on Jack’s social contacts in New York. He saw a vision of darkness begin to envelop his son’s world. A voice behind him broke his reverie.

I take it you have had some news of Jack, Father? Jude Honoré’s tone was cynical.

Paul turned and looked into Jude’s eyes. I understand your sentiments towards your brother, but this is something he desired to pursue. Was I to keep him here as a prisoner against his will? I believe he will come back, maybe with his tail between his legs, but let’s hope he’s learning, for the better.

But I am working hard for you and the family name, and he swans off like that. He’s going to be living a life of debauchery. It’s so disrespectful. Huh, I don’t even go off for a weekend with my friends.

You have never asked. If that is what you want to do__

There’s too much to do here, Jude interrupted.

Well, it’s up to you, Jude, said Paul, smiling from his eyes. I appreciate what you do, but you are my son and that is what is special.

But am I special? Jude retorted.

You are far more special than you realize, Jude.

Paul Honoré spoke with a genuine affection for his son. You will know it one day but, first, you must let go of things that are burdening you. I love both you and Jack so much.

He stood and put his hand on his son’s shoulder before heading back to his workroom, his nerve centre. It was a dome-shaped theatre of screens, with digital read-outs showing the results of his lifetime goal, the Vi-Eden Project. It was his biggest enterprise so far, a lifesaver for the world’s food requirements.

A tall dark figure in red stood in front of a huge window on the 105th floor of an apartment, somewhere in Manhattan. Gazing across the city’s skyline, like a queen admiring her kingdom, she spoke.

The time is nearly right, Jon.

Are you working on him, Malka? came Jon’s voice from the sumptuous interior of the apartment. He was a gangly, suited figure, with his legs sprawled out on a large velvet padded armchair.

I think he’s pliable. I could see him again next week at the photographer’s show.

Can you be sure he will be there? asked Jon.

He will be there, Malka asserted confidently, as she turned her head revealing a wry smile. Though, my presence is unnecessary.

The watchers made notes.

******

The days passed and Jack settled into his new life. People wanted to meet him and social events were not complete without him. Available, and not so available, women wanted to date this young prince with money to flash and wild oats to sow.

Jack and Michael had developed a routine, mainly due to Michael. As part of their routine, Michael took care of the weekly shopping and regularly made sure to purchase flowers according to Jack’s phone messages, as they had agreed upon. He had established a first-name relationship with the local florist. He enjoyed his days off when he visited places of interest, such as museums. He liked just sitting in Central Park when the weather was fine.

While he was sitting on his usual bench, reading the newspaper, he had a sudden realization that someone was sitting next to him. He lowered his paper and looked sideways at a male figure, dressed in an overcoat, who was looking at him.

Hello, Bashir, came the voice softly. Michael was taken aback, fearing that he was about to be harmed. What the …? Who …? Then he realized he was staring into a face that was familiar, but he wasn’t sure why.

Don’t you remember me, Michael Bashir? Or should I call you by another name? The words were spoken in a calm but hypnotic manner. We need to talk. Have you had breakfast?

The harmless question elicited a shake of his head. The two men walked off slowly together to a nearby café where Michael often bought organic bread.

As they sauntered along, Michael said, I have seen you before. Who are you?

I work for your boss. Not your current boss; I mean Paul Honoré. I work in a range of capacities, mainly the eyes and ears of his operation. There are others here in the city.

As they arrived at the café and took a table outside, a girl came to take their order. The mystery man ordered a cappuccino, while Michael ordered bread, ham and tea.

The man continued, Mr Honoré has asked me to report on Jack’s welfare and who he meets, etcetera. You might see this as spying, but he has genuine concerns because there are people out to do him harm and, by association, you as well. Though these things are to come to pass.

As Michael pondered this, the coffee and brunch were placed before them. He nodded his thanks to the girl.

What are you saying? he asked the man.

I’m telling…

Michael interrupted by saying, You’re telling me a crock of shit, whoever you are. What is your name anyway?

The man leaned towards Michael, before saying, I know you, Bashir. I’ve always known you.

You what? So, I may have come across you once or twice at Happy Valley. You don’t know me! gasped Michael angrily.

To answer your first question, you may remember me as Jim Tucker, legal advisor to Mr Honoré. Or Seth Hanson, his security advisor, or in another role as a troubleshooter. I often called around to see him.

He continued, I will call you by the name you prefer, Michael. I know about you. I know you heard the cries of neighbours and friends in Beirut in ’76 as bombs exploded in your street. I know your uncle Joseph was killed by the Muslim militia. Your father was Charles Malek, a Maronite Christian who had been a professor at the American University of Beirut. Your mother was called Adina. You and your brother, Ziad, left to go to Chicago with your parents, where your father worked as a doctor. Five years ago, your parents decided to return to Lebanon, and their beloved Beirut. You and your brother stayed in the States. He is now married and has two boys, David and Joseph. You are divorced.

Michael was gobsmacked and angry at the same time, almost choking on his bread. He had been the terrified boy, running for his life from the crack, crack of gunshots across the street which had silenced his uncle. What the …? Are you CIA, or something?

No, Michael, we only observe things. We try to avert certain things from happening when we are allowed.

Allowed?

Let’s just say it’s from orders above our station, Michael. What are you doing here in this Far Country? You know that Jack has set his course and will go his own way. You can try to influence him to see a better way and I wish you well with that. Look, I must go. It’s been good to have our chat and thank you for the coffee.

"So, I’m paying? asked a befuddled Michael. Where are you going now? Do I get to see you again?"

As he went to pay the bill, the stranger’s voice behind him said, Be prepared, Michael. There are elements who want to steal, use and even kidnap Jack. It’s all to get at his father. You are also in the firing line. I will meet you again. You will do well.

When Michael turned around, the stranger had vanished into thin air. He began to search his pockets for money to pay the bill. He sank into the chair, trying to mentally digest what he had just heard.

He was right. What am I doing here? Life was good in Paradise, he mused, as he walked away feeling shaky and headed for the nearest bar. He sat in the corner of the almost-empty bar, feeling alone and frightened, with just a glass of Bourbon for company. He didn’t drink much as a rule but, in the past, perhaps a few over the usual at family events and weddings. Michael had a wife before he worked for Paul Honoré. When he divorced, with no children, he had spent a lot of time with his brother’s family.

As he reflected on the past, the alcohol soothed some of the pain. Losing his beloved Angela to another man was hard to take. He continued to miss his mother and father and, even though he was very young at the time, memories of the dark days in Beirut persisted in his memory. He pulled himself back from drifting further into a sense of melancholy and told himself that this was a new life, and that he would start to live again today.

Chapter 4

Back at Burchester Heights, Michael had been up for hours as he had collected Jack in the early hours. Jack remained in a state of slumber, recovering from the hangover from the previous night. He and Steve had been partying at a Manhattan society function, where he had made some contacts.

As he mustered himself to wake and take a shower, Jack checked his phone and there was a message from Steve. ‘Morning, Party Boy! Let’s do it again tonight. Oh, and I have a proposition for you. Call me later.’

Jack muttered to himself, tossed the phone onto the bed, and took a shower. He thought a cool shower might revive his memory of the previous night. Afterwards, he made himself some breakfast with bagels, bacon, and cream cheese.

He recalled that it was Michael’s day off, so he didn’t bother to  check what he was doing. He noticed the invitation from Peter Schwimmer which was lying on the worktop. His exhibition opened on Friday night, the day after tomorrow. He thought it would be good to become more sophisticated. Anyway, he was interested in art, as was his mother.

He received a call from Jill Conner. She had handed him her card last night and wanted him to go to her magazine’s photo studio for a cover shot for the next quarterly issue.

He met Steve later at Tony’s, a small bar he had become familiar with. They went to a club in Lower East Side, quickly filling up with a variety of colourful characters. Steve guided Jack to a private corner of the lounge and produced a brown envelope from his jacket.

Here we go, Jackie boy. Something to keep us going. He tipped out two lines of white powder on the dark glass tabletop.

What’s that? Is it cocaine? inquired Jack, unaware that he sounded naïve.

You bet; the best in town. Are you telling me you haven’t done coke before?

Well, no. I mean, how would I? But I’m up for it. How does it make you feel? Jack felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, as he had only dabbled with pot during his student years.