Front page of a major New York newspaper dated 7th August 2007
MAJOR DRUG ARREST
'The arrest of Tommy Coster for the possession and supply of drugs will make our streets safer.' states NYPD narcotics detective Sam Copeland. Coster's arrest follows the execution of a search warrant at his apartment which located cocaine and methamphetamine with a street value of over four hundred thousand dollars. 'The drugs were bagged and ready to go.' further stated Copeland. 'We were lucky to intercept them when we did.'
Below the headline was a photo of Tommy being bundled into a waiting police car, it was clear enough to capture the look of disbelief and desperation on Tommy's face. It was a fit up, the whole thing a complete lie. I knew the truth and what really happened, why my good friend Tommy was arrested, but I also knew in my heart his situation to be hopeless and that he was going away for a long, long time. The thought that I could've very easily been going with him sent a cold shiver down my spine.
It was a rainy Friday night six weeks ago that I got involved in all this. I can remember vividly; sitting in my car after dropping work friends off after a night of dining and drinking. I was just two blocks away from Tommy's apartment considering whether I should drop in and see him, for it had been a while since we last caught up. I could have easily driven straight past his apartment, but as luck would have it there was a park right outside. I pulled in and switched the engine off, counting the windows from left to right and four down from the top, there was light showing from the sides of the curtains. Yes, he was home. The heavy rain was ricocheting high off the pavement under the doorway lights as I contemplated making the dash across the flooded road. After a thoughtful minute or so, I pulled my jacket collar up as I exited the car and sprinted for the shelter of the apartment block. And so set off a chain of events that would haunt me for many years to come, had I known I would've driven straight past his apartment and not become embroiled in this sordid little episode. But like a lot of things we come to regret, it seemed a good idea at the time.
Tommy and I had grown up together; we lived three doors away from each other in a less than desirable quarter of Brooklyn. As boys, we were inseparable, the twins we were called, Tommy Coster and Pauley O'Brien. Our friendship brought our families together, but for Tommy and me it was bond that would last forever, or so we thought. We played together, and we fought together in the tough Brooklyn neighbourhood. We took our first drink together and our first cigarette; and we lost our virginity to the same girl on the same night. But most of all we laughed at the world together, can there ever be better friends than that?
It was drugs that were the instigator of our eventual falling out. At the age of seventeen, Tommy began to develop a liking for marijuana. For me, drugs were a big no-no. My mother was a counsellor who specialised in drug problems in families. From an early age I knew first hand what drugs did to people, I'd been in her downtown clinic enough times to witness the devastation of people coming through those doors. While I was never a goody two-shoes, I drew the line at drugs. Unfortunately, Tommy didn't. A slow bitterness developed within us as I tried to convince him of the evils that lay before him, a bitterness that ended in a fist fight that neither of us won but both regretted afterwards. Things were never quite the same after that night.
My parents always had great plans for their children and for many years they saved hard for our education. I was the youngest of three, and by the time I entered college, my brother and sister were working in good careers. I followed in their footsteps and studied hard in veterinary science, a subject which had intrigued me from a young age. Tommy, who was the far brighter of the two of us eventually managed to hold down a regular job at a power utility company. As the years passed us by, we slowly drifted apart due to the different social circles to which we were attracted to. But whenever we did get together, it was like old times with plenty of laughs and good fun. We always agreed that we should do it more often, but like many promises made it never much came to fruition.
I hammered loudly on Tommy's door with a series of coded knocks from our childhood days that identified friend from foe. Seconds later the door was flung wide open and Tommy's smiling handsome face appeared.
"Evening sir, I'm from the facelift society." I stated with the utmost sincerity. "Being the ugliest person on the block, your neighbours volunteered your name for a free facelift."
Tommy's grin widened as he beckoned me inside, "Fuck you O'Brien. If anyone around here needs a face lift, it's you."
We embraced like the long lost brothers we were and then insulted each other a few times just for old time's sake. It was then that I noticed Tommy's hair was wet and freshly brushed. A quick glance round the room found a pair of high heel shoes on the floor, a black leather handbag on a table beside a wine glass and an empty beer can. It was obvious that Tommy had company.
"Hey, am I interrupting something?" I asked Tommy who was already making his way to the fridge.
He returned with two cold cans and an evil grin, "An hour ago you might have, but it's all over now. Impeccable timing on your part."
"An hour?" I exclaimed sarcastically taking a comfortable two seater chair for a ride and making myself at home. "Shit, back in the old days you were a two minute wonder."
Tommy laughed loudly. Back in the old days his old girlfriends used to complain bitterly that he was a sexual glutton with the stamina of a hyena and never knowing when to stop. I doubt things had changed too much since then.
"So, how have you been you old bastard?" I asked remembering that he was two weeks older than I.
After a few minutes of chatting involving more than a few impolite insults, I became attuned to my surroundings; and that there was someone moving around in the bedroom or bathroom. My eyes flicked inquisitively towards the door that led to the hallway, Tommy noticed and winked at me.
"That's Carol getting out of the shower, she'll be out in a minute." he offered.
Tommy always had an eye for attractive and young looking petite girls; they looked great in school uniforms he often lewdly suggested. I was therefore much surprised when Carol eventually made her appearance, for she was not what I expected. Both Tommy and I were in our twenty sixth year on this earth, and the tall and attractive lady that entered the room had a good ten years on both of us. She gave me a most embarrassed smile as Tommy introduced us, for it was obvious what they had been up to. My eyes were drawn to her as she retrieved her empty wine glass from the table and made her way to the kitchen to replenish it. Carol moved elegantly in her bare feet across the carpet, the long Rolling Stone's tee shirt I knew to be Tommy's swishing around her thighs. She had great legs; slim but shapely if you know what I mean. Returning with her glass she settled into the couch and cuddled in affectionately beside Tommy while holding the tee shirt in place over her thighs for. I wasn't sure if there was too much under that tee shirt, if anything at all.
The lighting was better near the couch, and as we chatted aimlessly I got a better look at Carol. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was a handsome woman even without make up. Her dark hair was short and styled with light highlights. Her pretty face was oval with big eyes, their colour not identifiable from where I was sitting. I liked the smattering of freckles on either side of her nose. Her lips were full and I knew what they were probably doing not too long ago. It was obvious Carol liked to smile a lot as she talked, which showed off her perfect teeth. Whenever possible, I allowed my eyes to fall to her nipples which stood proud either side of Mick Jagger's nose under her tee shirt. I also managed to steal a few glances of her legs which were folded behind her; I've always had a soft spot for nice thighs.
But it was some time before I noticed the wedding and engagement rings on Carol's left hand, and I was kind of surprised. Like most young guys, the thought of taking an older married woman to bed was always a fantasy, but in reality the opportunities were slim. I didn't know one married woman who would even be tempted do such a thing. Was I disgusted at what Carol had been up to with Tommy? Hell no, I was jealous. It was the naughtiness of it all, what she was thinking while Tommy was between her thighs and what may happen if her husband found out. Did he know; maybe he'd given his blessing for his wife to sleep with other and younger men. My own sex life mainly consisted of casual relationships with a few long term ones thrown in over the years. I'd never quite met the little miss right, but was having as much fun as I could until I did. My sexual encounters had all been one on one; I hadn't managed any sordid threesomes or orgies, but they sure as hell interested me.
As the alcohol flowed the conversation eventually turned to Tommy's and my younger days, mainly because anything about Carol was off the agenda for good reason. We laughed as the stories of our old antics rolled out, the practical jokes we played on others and their revenge that was often handed out in retribution. We were like a couple of likeable rogues; we used to get up to all sorts of mischief, most of it harmless and entertaining to others in our close knit neighbourhood.
Like the time we let the tyres down Cathy Abernathy's boyfriends car. Cathy lived across the road and used to have her boyfriend around when her parents worked late on Friday nights at their butchers shop. Old man Abernathy was a hulk of man and an ill-tempered prick to go with it. His lovely and supposedly innocent young daughter was out of bounds for the likes of the local men who eyed her substantial titties with some interest. Truth was that Cathy quite liked to show them off and spread her legs for the local boys on a regular basis. Cathy's boyfriend at the time was a bit of a yobbo and had already been banned from the street by her old man.
When old man Abernathy arrived home a little earlier than usual and found his dishevelled daughter and the boyfriend outside his house looking at four flat tyres, the shit really hit the fan. He completely lost it and started to kick the boyfriend's car doors in. Unfortunately, that car was the boyfriend's pride and joy, and the fight that developed was judged by the neighbourhood as the best in years. Now old man Abernathy was a fighter from way back, but the boyfriend was younger, fitter, angrier and not unskilled in ability to inflict pain. As no-one bothered to call the police, the fight was a long one and encouraged onwards by the horde of cheering neighbours. They eventually battled each other into bloody submission, and I suppose that old man Abernathy won in the long run because the boyfriend never came back again. Tommy and I were shitting ourselves for the next few weeks, as it was common knowledge who let the tyres down which led to the altercation. Cathy didn't seem to care, and a few months later let Tommy have a good look at her titties, and more. Such was Tommy's bravery; but it was too close to home for me.
