The Cocaine Chronicles (Akashic Drug Chronicles)
Gary Phillips, Jervey Tervalon
Language: English
Pages: 250
ISBN: 1888451750
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Fiction. Nothing to snort at, this ambitious anthology of jaw-grinding criminal behavior is masterfully curated by acclaimed authors Phillips and Tervalon. The contributors to this anthology of cocaine-themed stories include Susan Straight, Ken Bruen, Donnell Alexander, Letrice Johnson and more. Gary Phillips is the author of several crime fiction novels, including Bangers. Jervey Tervalon is the author of several books, including the Los Angeles Times best seller Dead Above Ground.
you grit your teeth for about fourteen hours—but basically it was good, reliable stuff. And the nice thing is, if you got greedy and snorted all the shit up, all you had to do was hustle down to the other end of the bar, and there he was, ready with another handy little packet to enrich your emotional life. Yeah, I thought, looking at the surreal sheen of her black hair, this promises to be a very exciting night. “Roger Deakens,” I said, smiling in my most understanding way. “Nicole,” she
laugh. It took me three days to finally get it. She was right, dead right, if you will. I was living in denial. She was my own true love. My only true one. Gail or Nicole. Nicole or Gail. Didn’t really matter how you named it. Thursday, I cut her down for the last time and told her the words she died to hear. “I love you, baby. How can I not love the woman that died for me?” Now, when it gets dark, we sit there in my kitchen, drinking white wine, snorting Wease’s good white powder until our
hair. McMillan flopped onto his stomach in his vintage Hawaiian shirt atop the ratty shag carpet. But for once he wasn’t worried about keeping his clothes neat. He twisted around onto his back, kicking and flailing his legs like an angry turtle, just as Crider chopped at him with the blade. A piece of the heel of McMillan’s two-tone shoe was sliced off and he instinctively shut his eyes as if he’d been gored in the heart. “Ugh,” Holmes grunted after Wild Willie yanked the gun free. He’d been
She rubbed the side of his close-cropped graying hair. He grinned thinly at her. “Bust my balls, why don’t you?” “I intend to.” She took his hand and led him toward her bedroom. On the couch, McMillan was busy licking coke from around one of Fernandez’s bare nipples. The green flamingo tattoo on the topside of her breast filled his vision. Near 2:00 in the morning, Holmes and Corso lay awake in each other’s arms. “You heading for New York or L.A.?” Corso put a leg over his. “L.A.” “Give
Two moonlighting Angels. We never thought to check the rear, where the hogs were parked. Jimmy had sworn Raoul would be alone, save for some trailer trash named Lori. And so it had seemed. We blazed in, I bitch-slapped Raoul, Jimmy hit Lori on the upside of her skull—then the bikers came out of the back room. Carrying. Sawed-offs. The smoke finally cleared and I was in Custer’s Last Stand. Everyone else was splattered on the floor, across the carpet, against the walls. Improved the shitty