Free The Spider Inside by Elias Anderson Page A

his nose and inhaled hugely, holding
the end of the tooter to the glass long after the little pile of drugs had
slammed into his nasal passages. Martin’s face turned red and he looked long
and hard at his reflection in the mirror, and Nik wondered what he saw in
there. Himself, he couldn’t stand to look at his own reflection when he was
spun out, thought it was bad luck.
    “Didn’t you cut Nik out one?” Martin finally asked in a low
voice, holding the mirror out to Lance. Lance looked at him the way Nik imagined
a spider looked at a fly just when it tangles itself in the web.
    Lance took the mirror and cut out another bump that was
marginally larger than the one Martin had done. Nik pretended not to notice any
of this exchange, and feigned interest in the intricate maze of dominoes being
constructed before him.
    He could see Lance leaning forward across the coffee table,
holding out the mirror to him, and he ignored it.
    “Hey, you want this or what?”
    Nik looked up, acting a little surprised. “Huh? Oh, no
thanks, I’m good. I appreciate the offer though, Lance.” Nik smiled when he
said this and he could see a moment of confusion cross Lance’s face and it was
replaced by...nothing. Lance’s expression had become a void, and Nik wondered,
not for the first time, if Lance had ever killed anyone before. He seemed like
the type that would have gang of prostitutes or a Boy Scout troop buried under
his porch or something. It would not surprise Nik in the least if one day he
saw Lance being led away in chains on TV with some horrible charge emblazoned
on the screen. It wouldn’t really surprise anyone that knew Lance. The surprise
would be if it never happened.
    “So you got a minute?” Nik asked, ignoring Lance and turning
to Martin.
    “Oh sure, sure brother, what do you need?”
    “I’d like to talk a little business with you,” Nik said,
nodding his head toward the back room. Thankfully Martin was a little more
intuitive on speed than he was on weed. Had he been smoking the green, he would
have needed this gesture explained to him, likely more than once.
    “Oh, yeah, sure man. Sure. No problems. You dudes okay out
here?” Martin asked. Paz said nothing and Lance nodded his head, slowly. Maybe
he was wondering what intestines tasted like.
    Martin as he normally was would never have picked the bag of
speed up off the coffee table but he did now, and Nik got an even bigger kick
out of this, as Lance turned red once more. Did it bother someone with no
conscience to not be trusted?
    In the back room Nik explained what he needed and produced
the cash, also explaining why he was short, and how he would pay Martin back,
all the time growing less and less confident that this would work, that he
overplayed his hand and should have just come back another time.
    “Absolutely, brother,” Martin said, and gave Nik a clap on
the back. He went to his closet and opened it and knelt to the safe that was
bolted to the floor. Nik shook his head, seeing that the door to the safe was
open just a crack. Martin stuck his hand inside and brought out his product and
a scale and some bags. He worked quickly, the meth coursing through him. What
would have normally taken forty-five chatty minutes now took only ten. Even
better, Martin was eyeballing the weight, even though he had a two-hundred
dollar digital scale sitting right in front of him. When Martin finally handed
the bag to Nik it was heavier than Nik had any reason to hope it would be.
    Nik handed the money over. “So I can get that other grand to
you when I off this,” Nik asked.
    “Hey man, it’s you. It’s you and me. We know each other man.
You’re like a brother, Nik.” Martin’s voice dropped low, to a conspirator
level. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, man, but for you? Pay me when you
can, dude. I know you’re good for it.”
    Nik, though he hated to be touched when he wasn’t high and
could hardly stand it after he’d shot up, gave Martin a