We were being held hostage in our suite at The Mint Hotel and Casino when the drugs kicked in.  Roman looked like an angry raccoon coming to get his supper back.  He was a goddamn psychotic barbarian ready to wage war on me.  My fear was reduced by the amount of booze and drugs in my system.  No doubt it was still there; just highly subdued.  I was filled with this archaic trust that Roman would let the beast and Kat go.  Only time would tell.  One thing for certain, my time was here.

I had been reminded of Roman three weeks ago.  The beast and I were at Rudy's over in Hell's Kitchen, NYC.  We had been up for 3 days and were trying to get drunk enough to pass out...tall order for the beast.  The bartender knew us and knew we were hustlers.  He kept a watchful eye on us, like we were Eskimos in a liquor store.  That didn't sit well with me.  I said loudly to the beast, "Finish up your drink you animal.  We're getting the fuck out of this zoo."  He nodded.  A guy walked in and sat right down between the beast and me.  He acted as if we weren't even there.  I said, "You looking for trouble mate?"  The guy glanced at me and I could tell he'd been crying.  I thought, "Hey, this poor sap is having a rough go.  I can probably bilk him for some money...or at least free drinks."  The beast stood up and grabbed his jacket.  I yelled, "Sit down you ape!  We're staying put."  He looked puzzled, but he ordered another drink and sat down.  I introduced myself to the distraught man, "My name's Charlie and this big fucker is the beast."  The guy stuck out his hand and stared at me, "Your name is Charlie?  Holy shit!"  He turned his head back and stared at the bar, "My name's Dave."  I said, "Dave you don't look so good.  What seems to be dilemma?"  Dave laughed, "Dilemma?  It's a bit more than a dilemma.  I'm in a river of shit dude."  I sympathized, "That's nothing friend.  The beast and I have been in more scrapes and life altering situations...hell, I've lost count."  Dave smiled, "Well buddy, it's not like this."  I was impressed with his level of utter confidence in the impending doom.  I said, "Just talk it out man.  These goddamn things can be sorted out over a little whiskey."  We all had a few shots and Dave loosened up. 

Dave told me a story; a very disturbing story.  He said, "I have a friend who is truly psychotic.  He scares the shit out of me.  I am afraid to do anything from fear of massive, lopsided retribution.  He has me involved in a life or death scheme tomorrow.  I have to go rescue him from being held captive.  At the same time, pretending to be an ally of the guy who has him held captive.  I am a nervous wreck and scared for my life."  I try and read Dave.  He appears to be on the level.  I said, "Why not leave the bastard held captive.  Let this other guy have him."  Dave laughed, "You don't understand.  This guy will somehow get out.  He leaves nothing to chance.  He probably has five backup plans.  Then he'll get out and I'll be the next Charlie on the list."  That piqued my attention.  I questioned, "What do you mean the next Charlie?  Is that some kind of goddamn joke?"  I thought maybe this was my opening to get at this guy and hustle him.  Dave glanced back at me, "Just calm down.  You see this psychotic friend of mine has 50 or 60 close friends all named Charlie.  They either have or will piss him off; usually in some small, petty way.  He then seeks his revenge in the most astronomical way.  You see there is one Charlie he has never gotten even with.  This Charlie has eluded him his entire life.  These other Charlie characters are merely symbolic lambs to placate his psychosis."  I sat in thought.  Something was adding up.  This guy was opening up too quick.  My suspicion led to paranoia, "Goddamn drugs."  We sat in silence for a few moments.  I was contemplating my next move.  Then Dave broke in, "Roman will not rest until he has his revenge."  It was like a knife going into my spinal column.  I stared at Dave.  "Roman?  This motherfucker's name is Roman?"  Dave nodded.  

My mind raced backwards.  I have only known one Roman in my life.  I went to grade school with a Roman in the early 80's.  He was a weird little fuck.  Everyday on the bus, this kid read a book.  He never talked.  He was a few years younger than me.  One day, a buddy dared me to take the book.  So I did.  Roman went ballistic, but we held him in his seat.  Roman was pissed.  After school, he threatened me and then begged for the book back.  I told him I had lost it.  He stared at me the whole ride home.  He was an eerie animal.  The next morning I woke up to my mother screaming.  I looked out my bedroom window to see what the trouble was.  I was shocked and terrified.  The bodies of our three dogs were mutilated.   I will get you Charlie was scrawled on the dog houses in blood.  My mom was obviously freaked.  I told her who did it, but I did not tell her about the book.  She told the police and Roman was put into a nut house for six weeks.  I figured he was nuts anyway and I was doing this little shit a favor.  My family moved away before Roman got out.  I never heard from him again.  However, I fell in love with the book.  It was entitled The Curse of Lono. It was written by Hunter S. Thompson.  The main character was a drug crazed loon covering a marathon in Hawaii in the first part of the book.  The second part of the book, he was holed up in a shack waiting for a break in the weather to go marlin fishing.   The book struck a chord with me.  I read other HST books.  I began emulating his characters.  They were free roaming, wild animals who answered to no one.  I loved that feeling and embraced the lifestyle.  However, at this moment, I was brought back to that same terror of seeing my dead dogs. 

Dave asked, "What are thinking about Charlie?"  I tried to play it off, "Me?  Christ sakes man, nothing at all.  I'm trying to comprehend your situation here.  Sounds like you have a real problem.  I don't think the beast and I can offer much help.  We have to split.  Best of luck though...you're gonna need it."  I stood up and called out to the beast, "Come on you drunk bastard let's get out of this place."  The beast paused waiting to see if I was really ready to go.  Then he followed suit.  We headed towards the door.  I was already planning my next move when I heard Dave's voice, "Charlie!"  I turned and Dave was smiling wryly at me, "Do you still have the book?"  My heart sank like lead sinker.  The fear and loathing proliferated through every cell in my body.  I turned back around and walked out the door; not saying a word.  When we got out to the street, I told the beast, "We have to get on the road.  We are being hunted like goddamn rabbits.  This town is not safe.  We have to get to the desert."