At 9:30 Duane stopped at the corner of Cypress and 6th where Mitch was waiting in an oversized hooded sweatshirt. He climbed in the car.

“Dude, lose the hood. You look like a dealer! You trying to get yourself arrested?”
“Sorry,” Mitch mumbled and took off the sweatshirt.

“Here’s the deal. Wait one block down from Violette’s on Elm. You’ll sell these little blue pills to the sorry asses who can’t get it up, but want to so they can get with Violette’s girls. you know what I’m sayin’?” Mitch smiled nervously and nodded as he took the pills and hid them in his pocket.

He got out at Elm and ducked into a shadow. It wasn’t long before a skinny, middle aged man with a greasy comb-over approached, looking over his shoulder every two seconds.
“Psst.”
“Yo.” Mitch tried to sound thug, like Duane.
“Here’s the cash, man, give me two. I’m seeing Lolita tonight!”
Mitch didn’t want to to know about Lolita, and he quickly made the exchange, retreating to the shadows as the man popped a pill and walked away.
Good luck.