“I better not catch anything from you.” He whips around to look at me, anger all over his face. “And I’m supposed to believe that you’re clean?” He rolls his eyes. “Fucking please.” “Believe it, don’t believe it,” I say. “I don’t give a shit. I just know I’m clean.” I point at myself. “You, on the other hand”—I make sure I look him up and down—“who the fuck knows.”
