People of Pleasure
by Marina J. Neary
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 4 5 |
part 2
South Street
Keith lived in a space above the smoke shop where he worked. The space could not even be called a studio. It was more like a storage closet with a tiny vent for a window. The place did not have an official address. Keith had his packages delivered to the shop. Did it make him technically homeless?
There was no designated bathroom, so he was probably using the tiny stall in the back of the store. There was no hot water in the faucet, and the toilet barely flushed. If Keith wanted to take a traditional shower, he would have to ask one of his classmates who lived on campus to let him in. Now with the dorms dismantled, he would need to make other showering arrangements.
I had so many questions for Keith, as I was learning new things about him. Just in the past half-hour, I had seen his first mural and his den. It was furnished with a giant bean bag, a wooden bench that doubled as a table and an impressively high-tech self-cleaning cat litter box. The cat himself was nowhere in sight.
“Marvin is out hunting,” Keith said. “The bakery next door has rats. He likes his meals fresh and organic. I don’t think I’ve ever bought him a can of processed junk. Unlike me, Marvin has standards. He knows his kidneys are bad. Cats are smart like that.”
“How long have you had him?”
“Six months. He used to live in a bookstore around the corner, but then it closed. The owner couldn’t keep him. She had stage four cancer. She was gonna put Marv in a shelter. I was helping her dismantle the bookshelves when Marv came up to me. She was like, ‘Do you want him?’ And I’m like, ‘Sure. I’m kinda homeless myself, but I’ll take him.’ So here we are.”
Yeah, that sounded about right: bookstores closing, smoke shops opening up.
“Marvin’s very lucky to have you,” I said.
“I think so. I’m pretty lucky myself. I have the best boss. He lets me stay here rent free. This place used to be a stockroom, but he cleared it for me. It’s very basic, as you can see. There’s no air conditioning, so it can get kinda brutal. Make yourself at home, Perry.”
He did not need to ask me twice. The bean bag felt great after the haul down South Street.
“I wish I could offer you a beer,” Keith continued, “but there’s no fridge here.”
“It’s quite all right. I’m perfectly content, all things considered. I’m actually having a good moment, for the first time this week.”
Keith sat down on the bench across from me. “I have something that can make it even better.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out what looked like a bag of gumdrops and dangled it before my nose.
“Candy? Sure. I’m always up for candy.”
“For grown-ups.”
Of course. What was I thinking? Keith had access to mood-enhancing merchandise.
“Okay, what’s in them?”
“The best stuff on earth. Sugar and spice and... dreams. Wild, colorful, unbridled dreams.”
“I like dreams.”
“Then you’ll love this new product. It’s not approved for commercial distribution, and it may never be. I got this sample directly from the maker. Humanity isn’t ready for it yet. I want you to be the first one to try it.”
Keith’s marketing skills were commendable. Now I understood why the smoke shop owner wanted to keep him on his team.
“You want me to be your guinea pig?”
“More like a pioneer. Just one gummy will take you places. You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”
“I’m free as a bird until September. That’s when my gig at Temple starts. Unless they retract the job offer. I haven’t signed the contract yet. I fully expect a part of my soul to die if I accept that job.”
“And if you don’t, you’ll die for real without health insurance.”
“That, too. You have a point. I can’t take risks at my age. Sure. Why the hell not?”
Keith unzipped the bag before my nose, releasing the tangy aroma of synthetic cherry and licorice. Under normal circumstances, I would not have proceeded any further. That aroma by itself raised many questions. Considering that I had nothing to lose and nowhere to be, I grabbed a red gum drop and popped it in my mouth. I felt safe under my student’s surveillance, half-swallowed by his bean bag. What could go wrong?
The gummy was already melting inside my mouth, coating my palate, slowing down my tongue. As expected, my vision became blurry and my eyelids grew heavy. None of this worried me; I had tasted my share of enhanced confections and knew what to expect.
Keith was sitting across from me, his tattooed knuckles propping his chin.
“Perry, I wouldn’t lie to you. This stuff is cosmic. We creative types, can handle it. Regular people can’t. That’s why I won’t put it on the shelf. It’s for the chosen few.”
“I don’t know if I feel chosen,” I mumbled through the acidic goo. “Do you? It’s a cruel joke, to be an artist in 2024. Too many of us. Killing each other for every square foot of gallery space. Imagine being an artist three-four hundred years ago?” My tongue became liquid and clumsy. “Back when it meant something. Wouldn’t it be nice... Just for one day.”
“Tell me all about it, when you come back... if you do. You might like it there.”
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Copyright © 2025 by Marina J. Neary
