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TOO HOT

monk, giving them nothing more than a good look around their island and some beach time.

I stop using, I stop everything, I just surf and they follow me everywhere. I play a lot; sometimes I bring them out to Tanah Lot, or Uluwatu for a tour and then come back home. I laugh in the car . . . so stupid. And then in the end they say this is the wrong guy. He doesn’t even go out to dinner. I think I was lucky too, because they are not so professional. They never come to my house . . . not this time.

Rafael knew now he needed to deal more discreetly – not accepting any new small clients, only dealing with the people he knew, and avoiding parties and dinners.

In my glamour time, I show-off, like, ‘I am the man.’ And then I pay for this because it was hard to hide myself; people always phone to ask, ‘Oh I have a new buyer.’

Using less coke himself also gave him a clearer focus and stripped him of his sense of invincibility, casting a more realistic light on his precarious dream life.

I can think more to protect myself. Because when I was high . . . ‘No, fuck off, I don’t care.’ But I get more conscious of the situation, and I keep quiet.

He became tactical; strictly keeping drugs out of the house, except a tiny bit in the end of his electric toothbrush for personal use. He used hotels to store kilos of coke, or under the seat of a motorbike that he’d pay in coke to park at friends’ houses, and he regularly switched storage rooms. He lay low,

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