“I’m just like you. We the same.” He got quiet for a moment, then said, “I could do all that shit you do. I just fucked up. We just born in different spots.” “Yeah, that’s real,” I said. Bucky let the money go. “Just do right, man,” he said. “No doubt, Buck. I’m-a get this back to you quick.” He chuckled again, as if somehow, he knew he would never need it. “When I get my feet, you should roll out to LA.” Bucky chuckled the same knowing chuckle. “Sure, man, I’ll do that.” He gave me a pound. I made my flight. Three days later, Bucky was dead.
