Four Seconds: A Memoir

"I'm not going to try it," I said.

"You'll like it," she argued.

"I know I'll like it," I said. "That's why I'm not going to try it."

"Try it just this once and I'll never ask you to do it again."

That was a deal. I slipped back into the driver's seat as Pam corn-rowed two neat lines of the silky white powder on the back of a plastic cassette tape cover.

Fifteen hundred dollars every month, an abusive boyfriend, a molested child, a lost family, hotels for houses, a ruined leg, a gun to my he...