Sunday April 12, 2020
from the Dixon eraser
We go down to the Pink Pearl and Jerry tells me I can order whatever the fuck I want off the menu. It’s fancy, like napkin swans and all that, waiters in little asshole vests and ties. I didn’t ever go to a place like this before, right? I’m glad I’m wearing my nice shoes, like, my black work shoes and that I showered a few days ago. Nobody, and I mean nobody knows how Jerry got rich, but the guy has a lot of money, like, more than anyone I’ve ever rolled with before.
“Whatever the fuck I want, eh?” I say.
“The world is your fucking oyster, Kyle…” Jerry sucks on his teeth, like he does and my stomach, like, turns a bit, like, what does he want from me that he’s wining and dining me? But I’m gonna go to fucking town. It’s not every day a guy like me ends up in a place like that.