Third in line

As he shut the car door and took the seat behind mine the hair stood up on the back of my neck. This guy was different, dangerous. I have hung out when th dirtbags and ragggas. Drank with drunks and smoked with shitheads but they don't put of that vibe. I feel it on my skin when around these people. His 2 day old shaved head bobbing in the rear view mirror revealing his eyes every tweaker induced muscle jolt. I can hear him briething fast. I can't recall what my dealer and him said but I do remember the exchange. His skinny needle marked arm reached between over the center console and he gently placed the clear ziploc filled with tar in the cup holder. He had the name Linda tattooed on his forearm and prison ghost face on his hand. Somehow seeing all that heroin made me calm, not only seeing my drug, but seeing the shit made the chance of us being robbed less likely. It must have been on the front because after a quick inspection by my plug and the words " we good?",  he was out of the car as quickly as he had shown up. We drove by 2 cop cars on the way back that day, we even stopped for a in and out burger and shake.