Well this is the first serious entry here for some time and my head is clear I think for the first time since July. Due to having been banged up in the nick for the last day and night. So it’s not all good. I looked in the mirror a few minutes ago and I look awful. I mean, skinny, and my face is all drawn and I look like an addict.
Of course, that’s exactly what I’ve been, even though I didn’t say so here before.
The thing is. Martin has turned this place into a drug supply warehouse. All the happy visitors were buyers. OK, Martin kept it exclusive, but it is a crime to supply class A drugs after all, and I can’t pretend I didn’t know what was going on. I just trusted Martin and the janitors to keep it discreet, which they did pretty well at. In return I got what I wanted. Thank God I was satisfied with just a little. I imagine it could have been worse. I saw such sights among the punters who turned up here.
In any case, it all came to an end when the cops rolled up and searched the place and arrested me and Martin and a couple of customers. You may already have seen it in the papers. It looked pretty bad for me, but Joe Goldman got me a good brief, and, in exchange for ratting out Martin, which didn’t hurt at all, I wasn’t charged. I also have to move out of the apartment, of course, and go into rehab.
Just so everyone knows, I feel pretty low.