The King’s Court mobile home park was all the way out on Boulder Highway, where the outskirts of the Neon City became Henderson. Leon Diggs rounded out the park’s single digit tenant retention rate, since its greedy landlord had doubled the rent on the 200 some odd park-owned trailers.
Eddie needed to get high, real high. And Leon had the sweetest sugar shit he could afford. Eddie parked his truck next to a pristine 68 Lincoln Continental, with the suicide doors. Business must be boomin’, he thought as he got out, and rapped his knuckles hard on the side door of lot 142. Nothing.
“Leon, it’s Eddie. C’mon, man.”
Nothing. Eddie pushed on the door. It swung open, and sure as shit, he walked right into it. Blood was splattered everywhere. Cash, blow, and guns were scattered on the deck, between the bodies; everything ripe for the taking. Eddie spotted a jumbo Ziploc of powder on the floor. He snatched it, and slid two fingers inside. He touched his fingers to his nose, and took a hit. In a flash he had a powder burned red nose, and he knew it was good shit. That’s when he realized including Leon, there were four bodies; three dead, one barely breathing.