“I don’t think it’ll hurt to ask,” Mom said, standing. I looked up and spotted the city bus coming our way. After dropping some change in the box, we took our seats, and the bus pulled away.
“I just… you know how I am, Mom. I don’t like asking for favors from the boys. They do too much for me as it is.”
“And so do you. Quite honestly, you do more for them than you do for yourself. You just don’t see it… and I love that,” she said, pointing at the heart of my chest. “You’re a good boy in heart.”
I shrugged and leaned against my seat. “I don’t know. I’ll see him tonight. I’ll talk to him.”
“You owe me five bucks if he says yes.” She gave me a Garfield smile.
I laughed. “Yeah? Well you owe me five if he says hell no.”
We laughed together, and it felt nice. I loved my mom. She always knew how to make me smile, to brighten me up a bit. I admit, around her there was never a time a smile wasn’t on my lips. Not only was she my mother, but she was my best friend. I told her everything—good and bad. Of course we’d bumped heads a few times when I was young and rebellious, but we were on better terms now. We knew we had no one but each other in this world, so we cherished it and made the most we could out of life. I cherished it even more when I found out she had HIV. We weren’t sure if she’d been carrying it since I was born so of course I got tested and luckily for me the results came back negative, thus proving she’d gotten them sometime later. It didn’t take long for her HIV to transform to full blown AIDS.
When we got home, Mom was tired and worn out. She needed rest, so after helping her to a shower, making her some soup and crackers, and tucking her beneath a blanket on the sofa, she was sound asleep.
Grabbing my guitar, I turned for the door and headed out, but not before giving her a kiss on the forehead. I was glad she was home, but I had to practice today. There were no days off for me. My passion for music was exceedingly high. I couldn’t go without it. Contrary to my passion, I got a call from Corey in Montana’s garage, and he demanded that I be at his place by nine.
“Who was that?” Montana asked, plugging his bass into his amp.
“Uh… nobody.” The boys didn’t know about Corey. They didn’t know shit about what I did to get money. The only thing they knew was my mom was sick and we lived in a shitty one-bedroom apartment we could barely afford. “Alright. Let’s go over Sticks,” I said, picking up my guitar.
We practiced the song at least eight times before we got it right. The garage door was open, and I was pretty certain the neighbors could hear. A few girls purposely walked by in short skirts and busty tank tops, batting their eyelashes and grinning. The only ones who returned the smiles from the garage were Montana and Gage… mainly Gage. As he sung, he’d wink and flash a smile at them. We didn’t complain, though. Usually when girls were watching, it made Gage sing and perform better. I guess the girls were a plus.
After practice, Gage and Deed took off to Deed’s place for dinner, but I stuck around purposely, plucking the strings of my acoustic.
“Dad left a pack of beer in the fridge. Want one?” Montana asked.
I shook my head, averting my gaze to his black 2005 Mustang parked in the driveway. The black paint shimmered beneath the pale light of the moon. The silver rims twinkled, trapping my eyes on them. It was calling me… telling me to just… ask.
“Montana,” I said placing my guitar down.
He turned around with a beer in hand, eyebrows arched. “Yeah, dude?”
“Listen…” Fuck. I hated asking for favors. It wasn’t that I had too much pride; I was just never the one to need anything from anyone—nothing like this anyway. It was best to cut to the chase. The worst he could do was say no. “I have a date tomorrow night… she’s sorta different.”
He tilted his head. “And? Is she hot?”
I smiled a little. “Oh, she’s hot.”
“Dude… that’s what’s up!” He came toward me, holding his hand in the air to do our handshake. I did so, but blew out a breath, pulling my hand away.
“Yeah… but see… there’s a problem. I told her I would pick her up and take her downtown.”
His eyebrows pulled together, his face warping into a confused mask. “Go on…”
“I’ll be straight forward. I need to borrow your car… just for tomorrow night. One night.”
He scoffed, placing his cold beer down on the pool table. “Roy… what the fuck? That’s my car. I just got it… and you know the rules: No one drives Blaze but me. If you need a ride, you know I’ll take you, but no one touches the wheel other than me.”
“I know the fucking rules,” I muttered. I knew I shouldn’t have asked. “Just forget it.” I stood and grabbed my guitar. I wasn’t mad at Montana; I was mad at myself for even asking. I knew how he could get about his car—shit, I would get the same way. His car was a prized possession to him. He cherished that thing. He took better care of it than he did his own guitars, and that was a lot. “I’ll catch you at Steele’s Saturday.”
Before I could make it past his precious Mustang and away from the driveway, he called after me. Stopping in my tracks, I glanced over my shoulder, and he met up to me with a forced smile.
“I’m sorry, man. Seriously. You just… you know how I get about my car. I don’t even like my mom driving it, but I owe you.” He sucked in a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He took repeated glances between his car and me, a pained expression on his face. “Letting you borrow my car for one night is the least I can do after you got me out of that shit with the cops.” Capping my shoulder, he sighed and took a step back. “You want it tomorrow night, you got it. Just… don’t cause any damage. I’d have to kill you.” Winking, he pulled his hand away and grinned. I smiled at him, shaking my head and stepping backward.
“Thanks, Montana. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah. Call me when you’re on the way tomorrow to come get it,” he said, tapping the hood of Blaze with the palm of his hand.
I nodded, turning and walking off, glad that shit actually worked out. Getting Montana to feel guilty was a sure way of getting him to let me borrow his car. It was wrong, but I knew Montana. Whenever he felt bad about something, he had to make it right. He had to set things straight. I couldn’t even count how many times he told me he owed me for covering up for him. To that day, the cops were still checking up on me. They didn’t come as often since they never found anything, but they still made appearances every once in a while, which is why it was dangerous and risky as fuck for me to be delivering heavy drugs like cocaine, meth, and heroin. If a cop caught me on the streets and wanted to search me, he could because I was still under their investigation. I was smart, though, taking shortcuts and wearing dark clothes to blend in. I couldn’t afford to go to jail now… not with Mom on her sickbed. Hell no.
On my way home, thoughts of Rosemarie came to mind. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done just to go out on a date with her. I never, in a million years, would’ve asked one of my band brothers for their car or anything that belonged to them just so my date could go well, but with her, it felt necessary. I said it before, but she was different. I wanted to get to know her, and I wanted her to have the best night of her life with me. I wanted her to be happy.
Shit… this was new. Really new. Since when did I feel like this about a date? About a girl? Fuck.
Fishing through my pockets, I took out my cellphone and stared at her number on the screen.
Should I call?
Should I wait until tomorrow?
Has she been waiting on my to call her since the first day we met?
All of this was running through my already crowded mind. I was getting confused. I told her I would call Friday, but I had to hear her again. I had to hear her melodic voice. I wanted to feel her smile through the phone. Her smile was powerful.
Placing the phone against my ear and continuing my walk, I took the ally leading to my apartment complex, and the phone rang twi
ce before she answered. Hearing her voice brought relief to me because not only did she sound sweet and amazing, but also she said my name, as if she’d been waiting for me to call for years. There was relief within her as well, and I’m not sure why, but it made me sort of… thrilled.
“Thought I forgot about you?” I asked, meeting the sidewalk and crossing the street.
Giggling, she said, “I hoped not. I didn’t think you’d really make a girl wait until the day of the date to talk to her again.”
“I was thinking about you.” She was silent for a moment. As I grabbed the knob of the door and entered the building, I paused, leaning against the wall.
Finally she said, “I was thinking about you, too, Roy.”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t fight my smile. “What exactly were you thinking about?”
“Oh, how I couldn’t wait until Friday, and all.”
“That’s it?” I questioned. I was still smiling… Why?
“Maybe. What were you thinking about?”
A burly man with a thick moustache passed by me, and I forced a smile at him as he exited the door. Turning for the hallway, I took the stairs by twos as the foul, musty odor of the stairway overpowered my sense of smell. There was a mix of stale beer and piss. It was horrendous.
“You really wanna know?” I asked.
“Yes!” Her voice was shrill. Cute.
“I think I better wait until tomorrow to tell you… you know, to keep it romantic and suspenseful, and all.”
She laughed on her end, and I laughed with her. I knew no one was going to come down the stairs and interrupt my privacy for a while, so I sat down on one of them, placing my guitar against the wall. I could get over the foul stench. Talking to her made it a lot less noticeable.
“Tell me,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. I paused, pushing my hair out of my face.
“Alright.” I felt corny as hell. It seemed I was in high school again, flirting over the phone, saying cute things to make her laugh… catching butterflies. To others, it would’ve been considered immature, but to me, it felt right, and I didn’t give one fuck how it seemed as long as she and I were enjoying it. “I was thinking about how I wanted to see your smile again… how bright it is. I was thinking about… how I wanted to hold you for the first time, and if I got lucky, maybe score a kiss on the first date.”
There was silence on her end, and although this wasn’t like me, I wanted to keep going. I wanted to win her over before we even reached our first date night. It was a desire of mine to have her thinking about me, just as much as I was thinking of her. I wanted her to dream about me, whisper my name in her sleep eventually. I wanted all of that.
“I was thinking…” I continued, “about what it would feel like to place my lips on yours. To taste you. I wondered if I would ever be able to get enough of you—I mean, I’m sure I wouldn’t,” I laughed, running the palms of hands along my jeans, “ but… well, you know what I mean… don’t you?”
There was another moment of silence, but this time, it felt odd. The silence was for too long. It frightened me, but what frightened me more was when Rosemarie said, “Roy, I—I have to go.” Her voice was filled with uneasiness, and if I wasn’t mistaken, worry.
“Uh…” Before I could respond, she hung up.
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I blankly stared at the screen, confused as to what just happened. Shit. I hoped I didn’t scare her off. I hoped I wasn’t moving too fast for her. I was just being honest. She wanted the truth, and I was giving it to her. The urge to call back or even text her was massive, but I held off, sighed deeply, and picked up my guitar, taking the rest of the stairs up to my apartment, changing clothes, and burying myself beneath my blankets.
I tossed and turned, hoping I hadn’t screwed shit up with her. Maybe she figured I was too much of a fucking loser to go out on a date with. I mean, really? What kind of guy said shit like that to a girl before the date even happened? I didn’t regret it, though. Hell no I didn’t because I meant it, and when I mean something, I don’t take that shit back.
Due to stressing over Rosemarie and the random phone call I paid her, I forgot all about Corey who blew up my phone that same night. Unfortunately, I fell asleep, which only made shit worse because the next morning, when I heard my phone ringing, he hollered and barked at me, demanding that I get to his place in five minutes and not a minute later. This time, I had to run. After checking over thirty missed calls and text messages from him, I knew he wasn’t playing games anymore.
I got to Corey’s place a little after five minutes. Thank the heavens he didn’t notice. Bursting through the doors, out of breath and worn out, I rounded the corner leading to his office and stepped in.
He was already frowning as I entered the room. A crate full of square brown paper bags was sitting on top of his desk, and I groaned a little, shutting the door behind me.
“Where the fuck were you last night?” he asked, stabbing the butt of his cigar on his ashtray to put it out.
“I was with my band, but I had to get back home to help my mom. I ended up falling asleep after helping her, though.” I lied straight through my teeth.
“FUCK THAT!” Corey boomed, pushing out of his chair and standing. He stormed around his desk, marching toward me with nothing in his near-black eyes but anger. At that moment, in his eyes, it looked as if he’d just killed ten men… and was about to make it eleven. It was unfortunate I was the only man around he could get his hands on.
Gripping me by the throat and pinning me against the door, Corey glared at me, slamming the back of my head into the hard wood. I choked and wanted to scratch at his hand, but I couldn’t fight back, no matter how much I really wanted to. No matter how much he pissed me the fuck off or ran me like a dog, I knew I couldn’t fight back. He would kill me instantly without any kind of remorse.
“When I tell you to get to me at a certain time, you fucking get to me! I don’t give a fuck about your fuck-ass band or any of that music shit you claim to really be in. If you’re workin’ for me, you bring your ass here when I tell you to. If I’m payin’ you, you do what the fuck I say. Do you fucking understand?” he asked, nearly seething through his teeth.
All I could do was nod. He was crushing my esophagus. I couldn’t breathe.
Releasing me, he took a step back and ran a hand over his head.
“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He turned for his desk while I stumbled on my feet and leaned forward, gasping for oxygen. Grabbing the crate off the desk and dropping it in front of me, he turned around and sat in his chair again, grabbing a brown box, pulling out another cigar, and sparking it.
“See, if you were here last night like you were supposed to be, you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying this big load of shit during the middle of the day. But because you didn’t wanna show up and because you wanted to fuck around like a pussy with a bunch of guitars and drums and shit, you gotta go now. During the middle of the day, with this crate that everyone will fucking see. And you know where you gotta go?” he asked, crouching over his desk and placing the tip of his index finger on a sticky note.
I didn’t respond. I was still heaving… still hurting. My hand was locked around my throat to somehow soothe the pain.
“You gotta go all the way across town and deliver this to Red Round. Yeah, the fucking mafia. And those motherfuckers don’t play. They wanted their shit last night. I tried getting you off the hook, but… they’re still pissed the fuck off. Looks like you gotta deal with them in person, and you know how they get when they don’t get what they want in time.” Corey held his thumb out and titled his chin, drawing an invisible line across his neck as if it were a knife, slitting a throat. He then laughed with an unnerving spark in his eyes.
Standing from his seat and grabbing his box of cigars, he walked past me and out the door. “Call me if you make it out alive with my money,” he said, rounding the corner. His footsteps drifted, and I lowered to my knees, staring at the crat
e before me. Tears formed in my eyes, and my throat burned, but I bit them back and stood while picking up the crate, raising my chin in the air. I refused to let this bring me down.
I knew I couldn’t carry this crate out in the open without looking suspicious, so I placed it outside Corey’s house, between a cluster of bushes, and then hurried back to my place to find the biggest backpack I had. All I had was the backpack from senior year. I grabbed it and rushed back to Corey’s, stuffing my bag with all the heavy brown bags. Good thing Mom was still sleeping.
Kicking the crate aside, I headed to the nearest bus stop and waited. Was I nervous? Yeah. Was I scared out of my fucking mind? Yeah. Did I want to shit my pants and give up on all of this? Yeah. Did I want to lose money and get me and my mom kicked out of our apartment? Fuck no. So I had to do it. Quite honestly, my mom and a roof over my head meant more to me than being afraid of a fucking mafia.
Although this mafia was deadly and scared most of Virginia, they had respect and they thought things through, which was why they were so successful. Unlike Corey, these men took their shit, paid me, and then told me to get the fuck out of their faces. I could deal with that. Corey, on the other hand, was the type to try and get me to stick around in his face and get all buddy-buddy knowing I hated it. I couldn’t stand it.
I boarded the bus, and it took twenty minutes to get across town. I walked through the gates of the mansion the Red Round mafia lived in and took a deep breath, starting up the rocky path. Birds chirped above, and the sun was shining down, but to me, it felt cold and the birds, in my imagination, were vultures waiting to find my dead body and eat my remains after Red Round killed me.
Who I Am (FireNine) Page 3