Puff Puff Pass
The Broadside’s Roof, Late September, 1995
“We’re done with the last patch, Tiny. Come over and check our work,” Jerk yelled over to Tiny by the stairwell bulkhead. Kid had just finished spreading the gravel evenly.
The floating deck’s supports squeaked as Tiny stepped over. Even with the metal footings sturdy enough to hold a dozen drunk socialites back in Big Neil’s heyday, the roof still had just enough give.
Tiny leaned over the railing. “Looks great.” He straightened, hand still on the railing. He wiggled it. “Kid, tighten this.”
There was a distant clang of a metal door slamming that came from the bulkhead’s open doorway. Someone was on the way up.
“Better be Late with my cigar.” Tiny came up to the roof increasingly infrequently, and he’d forgotten to bring one up to smoke. It was a warm and pleasant September evening, the sun turning the western skies the color of maple leaves in Congress Park this time of year.
“Better be Late with our blunt.” Kid turned the screw, then wiggled the railing. “Screw’s stripped. Someone tell the facility manager it needs a bolt and nut.”
“But Jackie’s got the weed.” Jerk made a mental note to grab a bolt and nut later. He pulled the milk crates out from under the deck and slid them onto it before coming around to come up the stairs to set them up as chairs and a small table.
“You called?” Jackie came through the doorway as Tiny stepped aside, moving to lean against the bulkhead. She was a bottle blonde that Jerk didn’t think matched her golden tone. When she smiled her top front tooth had an extra white patch shaped like a heart. Too much fluoride in the water growing up.
Jerk and Jackie exchanged money and weed. “This is from my thesis advisor’s hookup. Said it was from Canada.”
Jerk held it up and examined the baggie. “Enough seeds to start your own grow operation.” The metal door below’s clangs echoed up again. “Late, as usual.”
Kid grabbed the baggie and smelled it. “Smells a lot better than the ditch weed the dealers by the bridge sell.”
“Oh, good, Jackie’s here.” Late leaned on the doorway as he came through, panting from running up the stairs.
“We’re lucky the next ice age isn’t here, waiting for you.” Jerk held out his hand. “You got the blunt? Where’s the beer?”
“Shit, I forgot the beer.” Jerk and Kid groaned. “I’ll go–”
“No, you stay here.” If Late left their sight he’d enter nonlinear time again and they wouldn’t see him again until who knew when. “We’ve got some in the kitchen fridge. Who wants one?” Kid and Tiny raised their hands. Late held up his hand in refusal.
Jackie wistfully watched as Late cut open the blunt to get the extraneous tobacco out. “I’d love to stick around, but I’ve got papers to grade before dinner with Diane.” Jackie was the most domestic of the Squatmates to come along in a while. She turned to Jerk. “Need any help bringing things down?”
With Jackie it only took two trips to get everything back into the maid’s quarters where he kept the maintenance gear. When he returned with beers and a coke for Late a dank odor drifted down along with the tar. Late had constructed the blunt and they’d already begun.
Tiny was leaning against the outside of the bulkhead, and Kid and Late had huge grins on their faces. Jerk looked at Tiny again. He had a bemused expression Jerk hadn’t seen often. Jerk sighed and cracked open Tiny’s can before handing it to him. “You took a hit? Really?” He shot a look at Late and Kid. Kid had a hand over their mouth trying not to laugh while Late stared forward stoically.
“Your mother’s in Providence.” Tiny’s smile was easy, he’d begun his cigar.
“You’re getting a cab?”
Tiny held the smoke in his mouth before exhaling. “I’ll sleep in 401.”
“What’s 401?” Kid asked.
“Guest suite. I clean and dust when I remember.” Jerk had last checked it a couple months ago. It had a bed sturdy enough for Tiny and a girlfriend to do jumping jacks on, but he hadn’t brought anyone up there since Norma’s first oncologist visit five years ago.
Kid handed him the blunt, Jerk inhaled and counted to seven. Exhale. He inhaled again and handed it to Late.
“You ever come up here?” Kid asked them. “I didn’t realize this deck existed.”
“Not much anymore,” Tiny admitted, taking a sip of his beer. “When Jerk was a boy, though…” Tiny sipped again, looking thoughtful. “Had a grill up here. Hauled up a picnic table, one plank at a time, and built it myself. City launches fireworks from a lot up at the Institute.” He motioned to the Institute on the bluffs above downtown.
“The table wobbled a little, but we always got the best view of the fireworks.” Jerk said.
Late passed him the joint, saying “I’m good,” as he exhaled. “I miss the grill up here.”
Jerk took a hit, held it, then passed the blunt to Kid. They held up their hand in refusal. He hesitated before turning to Tiny. “Another hit?” Too much of the smoke came out of his nose and he stifled a sneeze.
Tiny held up his hand. “I’m a lightweight, you know that.” Kid snickered. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to carry your ass down the stairs.” Not that anyone could without a crane. He snubbed out the blunt, plenty for a couple hits later.
Kid tilted back their Genny, finished it, then pulled another can from the plastic rings. They stood and leaned against the rail next to Tiny at the bulkhead. Tiny offered them his cigar. Kid accepted, took a puff, and held it for a long moment before exhaling, mimicking Tiny’s slouching pose. “Late, you always lived here? Your parents rented an apartment downstairs?”
“I’m from South. Foundry.” He pointed at Tiny. “Tiny and Norma took me in when my mom died.” He looked at Jerk. “Jerk took me in too.”
Tiny coughed, deep and bassy, then hawked and leaned past kid, spitting over the railing. “Took you in? You were already living in The Squat part-time after you and my idiot son stole that car.”
“Wait, wait—stole a car?” Kid looked at Jerk, then Late, then Tiny, before back to Jerk.
“It wasn’t theft.” Late protested, crossing his arms. “We borrowed it from my mom.”
“Without permission.” Tiny added.
Jerk turned to Kid. “It’s as stupid as it sounds. Let me explain.”