Your breathing gets slow and heavy, as if you're having a panic attack. Chef seems to sway and twist as he walks back towards you. The tray is on the ...loor. You are on the floor. You are on the tray. The drugs are wearing off. You are on the tray. You are food. The pain and nausea hits you from the stomach first; a sickly, nauseating, embarrassing ache. Suddenly you're back in preschool for a second, unable to find the courage to ask to go to the bathroom. If only someone would just ask if. Besides, after your scoop last night, you’re the high man on the totem pole.’ ‘I see.’ Sammi sighed. ‘So what do you have on the Crimson King?’ ‘Nothing much. No one has ever seen him.’ ‘No one? Oh, come on, Jake! This sounds like a bad rerun. This is not ‘Night Stalker’, you know.’ ‘I don’t know, Sam.’ Jake plopped himself in one of her visitor chairs. ‘I’ve heard a lot of strange stuff about the Crimson King.’ ‘So?’ ‘No one I’ve ever spoken to has ever gotten anywhere with an investigation of. More

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