Tracks.

© Tim Barker 2001

When Jack Met Sally.

The lines on his arm told a story of years of abuse, veins bulging out almost in an attempt to leave his body. Substitutes had proved worthless in the long run especially when they became more expensive than the real thing. Anyway, there was more pleasure to be gained from sticking a needle directly into the skin, piercing the vein and shooting the toxic substance of your choice, mainlining straight to the brain.

His name was Jack, he had been an addict for most of his adult life. It started with so-called 'soft' drugs during his teens and had escalated into full-blown wasting of the brain not long after. He had never tried detox, there was no point. Even when his 'associates' had been dropping like flies all around him he had never given up his hedonistic pursuit. It was all he knew.

This particular day Jack had woken with a bad hangover. He had been drinking all night, stumbling from one bar to another until it had all become a blur and he had ended up in a café by the docks. That's where he'd met Sally. She had a shocking mane of red hair that looked as dishevelled as he felt. He'd sat down at her table and offered to buy her a drink. They ended up making love at some nearby dingy hotel. He told her up-front that he was a junky but she didn't mind. She just wanted some company and he would do just fine.

He reached over to where she lay and brushed back her hair from her face. She was a real looker, he thought, whatever does she see in me ? He knew it wouldn't last, that nothing would come of their rendezvous so he savoured the moment like a precious jewel.

He needed to score some gear but he didn't want to leave her, knowing that he would never see her again. In the end he woke her and explained that he had to go on a little business trip. She understood. He wasn't the first junky she'd fucked. He left her watching TV and made his way out into the city, in search of his man.

Dawn proved too bright for Jacks eyes so he pulled out a pair of shades and put them on. He would need to get to the other side of town to get his substances but he didn't have enough for a taxi as well so he decided to take the underground.

He handed over his credit chip to the attendant who debited the standard fare and opened the access door. Jack took back his chip and made his way toward the deserted platform. He took out a cigarette and lit it with his antique zippo. By the time he had finished his cigarette the train arrived so he threw the stub down onto the rails and climbed aboard. He took the first seat he came to and looked around.

There weren't many people on the train and those that were present seemed unconcerned about anybody else, probably just finished their night shifts, he thought. He had to change trains just once before he reached his final destination and that last one had been full of morning commuters. He wondered about their lives, so different from his own yet everyone, in their own way, combined in some unimaginable way to make up the life-blood of the city.

He stopped at the station’s exit to listen to a busker banging out traditional songs on some far-eastern instrument. He had no small change on him so he tossed the busker a cigarette, regardless of whether he smoked or not. The busker nodded his thanks.

Once outside he headed for a news-stand and typed in his preferences on the keyboard. He didn't follow politics or sport but was interested in crime and sleaze. The machine produced a hardcopy which he carefully folded and stuffed into an inside pocket. If only he had read it there and then.

His man lived two blocks away. He was starting to feel the Urge. He needed his fix. Stan better be in.

He approached a door and was overwhelmed by the number of buttons. One of these would ring a bell in his man’s apartment unleashing a sequence of events that would end his craving. He couldn't remember which one it was though. The number of times he had been there too. That was a side-effect of his habit, memory loss. He pressed a random button. After a short while someone responded.

"Hello ?", someone’s voice rang over the intercom but it wasn't Stan’s so Jack pressed another one. On the fourth attempt he got the standard reply.

"Who the fuck is it ?" Stan shouted. Jackpot, his man.

"Stan, it's me, Jack"

A buzzer sounded and the door clicked open. Jack pushed and entered a lobby. He remembered where Stan lived and began to climb the stairs to his apartment.

Emergency Surgery.

Sally turned off the TV as soon as Jack left. She gathered up her meagre possessions and left the hotel, throwing the keys on the counter as she passed.

What must she do first ? She took out a notebook and scribbled down an itinerary for the day. First thing was to find a good cosmetic surgeon so she headed to a 'phone and the days trade directory. Once inside the booth she typed in her request on the keyboard and up sprang a dozen or so surgeons. She chose the closest to the docks and entered the number.

"Hello, Face Change, cosmetic surgeon to the stars", the voice on the other end of the 'phone said.

"Hello", replied Sally, "could you fit me in today for surgery ?".

"Rush job, eh ? Well, let me see...yes, we can fit you in, at twelve. It'll cost extra for the immediate nature of the appointment though !"

"That's fine, seeya at twelve", Sally said flatly then put the receiver down.

That meant she had a few hours left before her appointment so she decided to head for a café. Once inside the café she took a seat nearest the door and ordered a coffee and croissant. Next she took out a small mirror and applied some lipstick. That was the last time she'd be looking at those lips.

Sally arrived at the surgeons early so she booked in then took a seat in the waiting room. The month’s fashion magazines were neatly arranged on a central table. She leafed through them, looking more at the model’s faces than the clothes. There was a special on Tokyo which she perused with great interest, looking at the girls eyes, long black hair and small breasts. Maybe this was the look for her ?

Soon enough the consultant entered the room with a video tablet tucked under one arm.

"Miss, er ?" The consultant said.

"Just call me Sally", she replied.

"OK, Sally. Discretion is our speciality. What can we do for you ?"

"A new look, I want a new look. Something like this." She held up the magazine of the Tokyo models.

"OK, lets see what we can do..." The consultant took a photo of Sally and fed it into the video tablet then began to manipulate the image.

"How does this look Sally ?" He enquired.

"Looks good to me. How about my breasts though ?" Sally answered.

"Oh, we can do something with those, yes."

"OK, when can the surgery begin ?"

"Immediately, if you're prepared to pay for it", the consultant offered.

"Money's no object", replied Sally.

"Well, let's go then. Follow me."

That was the last time Sally’s old face was ever seen about town.

Stan the Man.

Stan the Man ushered Jack to a comfortable sofa.

"What can I do for you then Jack ?" Enquired Stan.

"Well, I need to score, bad", enthused Jack.

"Well, it just so happens I had a delivery yesterday. It's your lucky day, straight off the boat from Africa."

"Great, give me four grams of your best stuff then", said Jack then added, "Please."

"OK, just hold on a minute. I'll be back." And with that Stan disappeared into another room.

Jack reached into his pocket to find something to wrap his purchase in and found the mornings newsprint. He took it out, unfolded it and yelled out the exclamation : "Wow !"

Stan came back into the room with a kilo bag in his hands.

"What's up ?" Stan asked.

"You see this ?" Jack held up the hardcopy. The headline read:

"Sally Armstrong, Key Witness To Mafia Murder Disappears."

Next to the headline was a picture of Jacks conquest from the night before.

"Yeah, what about it ?" enquired Stan.

"This girl. I was with her last night. Don't you see ? They'll be after me too now. Shit man, the Mafia !" Jack was overcome with terror.

"Take it easy friend", said Stan, attempting to calm Jack down.

"You need a hit so you can think things out straight. If you see what I mean", advised Stan.

"Sure, it might just help."

That was to be Jacks last fix. As he walked out of Stan’s building onto the busy street a car approached him at high speed and killed him instantly. And so ended a worthless life.

Epilogue.

Sally Armstrong changed her name to Tasmin Yakuzi and went to live in Tokyo. She began her new life as a model, walking the catwalks of the world, flaunting her new look and entering the very fashion magazines she had taken her image from.

Tasmin never suspected that she had indirectly ended the life of Jack back in the ghettos of her native homeland. If she had then she probably would not have felt any remorse anyway for, after all, Jack was just a stranger she'd met one night in some cafe in a previous life.