Opportunity knocks. The Police hammer.
My man gets rolled by the Police. A "friend" of his was walking past an ATM when she noticed a guy stick his card in and request £20. Someone called him and he went off to say hello leaving his card in the machine. She immediately snatched the £20 and left the card and wandered off down the road with her bonus double heroin voucher. The guy turned round and went back to collect his money. It was already gone and he saw the woman and put two and two together, he shouted, she legged it, ducking down an alley she found her way to my mans house and hammered on the door. Thinking she'd lost the guy she went in. But reality with drug addicts is rarely in synch with actual reality. He saw her go in and called the Police.
In turn they are hammering on his door, ready to turn over his house.
In a way I feel sorry for my man because he does try hard to stay out of trouble but somehow, against all odds, trouble seems to find him. I look at him as he is telling me his story, can of Black Perla in hand, swaying slightly. he's back to wearing his combat gear; I guess summer is over. I gently shake my head in disbelief as he says "It always happens to me." But you know, I think he likes it that way. He lives on the edge, trouble finds him but he doesn't hide from it. he doesn't avoid trouble like normal people. His friends are all addicts, dealers or downright dodgy. Or a combination. He tells me he's been clean for the last fifteen years but I can name three occasions when he's plunged headfirst off the wagon. His most recent descent into drug fueled oblivion was with China White a particularly nasty drug.
Suddenly he looks up "Ahhh I know him. I'll see you later, gotta go." and he's off up the road chasing down some guy wearing Adidas leisure trousers, hoodie and a reversed baseball cap proclaiming "BOSS".