January 1969
(Hollywood)
I hear from Levi that Stoney might not come back, after all, at least any time soon.
Evidently, New York, cop wise, is super cool right now. L.A.’s too hot.
Levi’s right. When I get home from Cecil’s, two cops wait outside the pad.
“We’re looking for Stoney.”
“He’s not here.”
“May we look around your apartment?”
I might appear innocent, but I’m not stupid. “I don’t think so.”
The two cops look at each other meaningfully. “Well, you pass along to Mr. Stoney we’ve got our eye on him,” one says as he gives me his card. “If you got any information, give us a call.”
I drop the card into my coat without looking at it.
“If you cooperate, we’ll see what we can do for you.”
A threat.
“Nothing to tell.”
Please, God, please don’t let my voice doesn’t betray my terror.
“You think about it.”
After the cops leave, my knees turn to rubber. I’m lonely and sad without Stoney, and also scared shitless the cops’ll get a warrant and raid the pad. God knows what Stoney’s left stashed without my knowledge.
The cops’ll find it for sure, and I’ll get busted for possession, not Stoney.
How could he leave me in such a predicament?
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Excerpt from I, Driven: memoir of a teen’s involuntary commitment (Part I: “Going to Cherokee,” Chapter Ten)
Text copyright 2008, Jennifer Semple Siegel
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