Falling Off The Wagon. Again. Pt. 5
At home, after coughing up 39.95 on an online people-finder site, I locate a phone number for Benay, a friend from the old days. And she connects me with Rudi, a young dealer in the South Bronx. But he won’t come to me. I have to go to him. Benay wants to tag along but I shake her with the promise that l’ll stop by her place later. You know I’m not doing that! I take off my diamond hoops, lace up a pair of Converse hightops and hop a bus in front of Carnegie Hall to the Lexington Avenue subway. From there I catch the number six train. We’re headed uptown, baby. 138th Street.
Winona is wearing Roberto Cavalli pants.