“Frank, is that so bad? He’s a bright kid; we need more guys like him around.”
Woods turns angrily toward Roberts.
“Bright’ my ass; he’s a smart ass, knows it all!”
“Jordan has his bachelor’s degree; I think he’ll be a great asset for the department for future officers. He comes from a good family which he loves dearly; I believe he’s engaged to be married, and I think he’s a good kid.”
Captain Woods rubs his chin, then says, “I’ve noticed that’s he’s on the phone a lot; when the new phone bill comes out I’m going to go through it with a fine-toothed comb. It’s going to be interesting. I’ll bet on how it may look. Everyone should know that abuse of personal calls is a no-no. A few calls are over looked, but an abuse with lengthy durations won’t be tolerated.”
“My kids use a term called ‘hating’ when someone doesn’t care for someone else’s accomplishments. Are you a hater, Frank?” Roberts has one eye wide open as though looking through a magnifying glass.
Woods answers, “Well, I guess I’m one hating son of a biscuit!”
“Biscuit?”
“I promised the missus I’ll tone down the cursing. She says that it’ll help lower my blood pressure.”
“Does she know about the hating, too? I’m sure that has an effect on one’s blood pressure, as well.”
Captain Woods grunts at that comment.
• • •
The boys are huddled up in the school cafeteria. Brandon has the newspaper and is reading the summary of high school games over the weekend.
“Here it is! I saved it from Saturday: ‘Washington high the #2 in the state wins their game comfortably 27-10. Brandon Turner had a great game throwing 16 for 22, 247 yards passing. He had one touchdown pass to Christopher Greco from 27 yards out. Dominic Moretti led an impressive running game with 164 rushing yards, with 3 rushing touchdowns. However, the stars of the game may have been Washington’s two outside linebackers, Angel and Jesus Hernandez. They recorded seven sacks between them. They are truly bookends on defense!”
“That’s what’s up!” says Jesus, and gives his brother a high five.
“The bookends, I like that!” says Angel.
The Reservoir
Detective David drives up to the reservoir and parks his SUV. No Crown Vic tonight, David decided to drive his 2012 black Ford Escape.
As a kid, he would walk along the water for fun; in his late teens and 20s, it was commonplace to make out with his girlfriend there. On this night, he decides to go up to the reservoir to relax. Along the way, he buys a hot fudge sundae. It’s a warm night in early fall; the moonlight is shimmering off the water. He turns on the local station to his favorite soft rock music. The song “True” by Spandau Ballet plays softly through his car speakers.
Ha-ha-ha, ha-ah-hi. Ha-ha-ha, ha-ah-hi. Funny how it seems/ Always in time, but never in line for dreams/ Head over heels when toe to toe…
While he’s soaking in the music, a car pulls up nearby with at least two people inside. He continues to relax, eat his sundae, and mind his own business; however, through his rearview mirror, he notices that clothes are coming off the occupants of the car. David laughs to himself.
He places his sundae on the dashboard, grabs his badge and weapon, and walks over to the car to tap on the glass, startling the two youths.
“Police.” David shows them his badge. “Miss, are you okay?” The embarrassed young lady says, “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Great. Both of you get dressed and step out of the vehicle, please.”
Then, “ID’s, please? Hmm, you’re both 19. Why don’t you both get a room?”
“I can’t afford one; I have no job,” says the boy.
“Could you afford bail money for committing an indecent act in a public area?”
“No, sir.”
David then looks at the young lady for her reply. “No, sir.”
He looks at their names on the ID’s and hands them back to them.
“Gawet Pinkman and Valerie Manns, believe it or not, this is your lucky night.” The teenagers wear a confused look.
“I am not going to arrest you two, because I used to come up here with my girlfriend as a kid, as well. I’ll tell you what, here’s thirty dollars for a room for a few hours and five dollars for condoms. If you’re broke and can’t afford a room, then you can’t afford a child or an STD.”
“Thanks, sir!” says Garwet, taking the money with a smile. “One catch,” says David. “I better not ever come across either of you here again making out with each other. Or with someone else!” Valerie looks at Garwet with an attitude.
“I will not be as nice the second go-round. Understood?”
Garwet and Valerie both say, “Thanks, never again.”
The teenagers leave and David walks back to his SUV. Playing on his radio is the song “Saturday Night” by the Bay City Rollers.
It’s just a Saturday night/ It’s just a Saturday Night/ It’s just a Saturday Night/ It’s just a Saturday night.
Detective David’s sundae is now a milkshake. “I really need to get a life.” He drinks his milkshake and drives away.
• • •
Dr. Buckley’s long-time patient Jade Hughes is in the office for her weekly appointment. She shares with him her daily events involving her home and high school. She hasn’t mentioned in a while anything concerning her past problems with abandonment. Her anxiety has been under control since he’s shown her an acupressure she can perform on herself. He showed her that there is a meridian for the heart that could help her with heart palpitations, insomnia, chest pain, mental disorders, forgetfulness, anxiety, nervousness, and emotional distress. Dr. Buckley told Jade to have her right hand palm up, fingers spread a-part, then to take her left thumb and place it at the base of her hand, pressing up toward her pinky finger. It has to be on the area of the wrist that’s in line with that little finger. By holding pressure there a while, she will begin to relax. Dr. Buckley has been using that acupressure on himself for years, and teaches it to his patients when needed. He’d rather show the meridian Heart 7 than prescribe medication to treat anxiety.
Rossi
Brandon and Dominic are heading home from football practice together. It’s after 7:00 p.m., so they’re walking through the residential streets of East Hartford at dark; the street lights are on to help them through the sky’s darkness. Dominic wants to walk rather than hitch a ride because he wants a quick smoke of marijuana before he gets home. Even though Brandon doesn’t smoke, he doesn’t want Dominic walking alone, so he joins him.
“Here, bro’, take a hit,” Dominic says.
Brandon shakes his head, no.
“I’m not screwing up any scholarships for that stuff! You never know if someone’s going to ask for a piss test. I got too much at stake.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. All-American! Me doing a commercial for a company and playing on Sundays aren’t in my future, like your future. I’ll be a paycheck-every-other-week blue collar guy, but I understand.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Me getting a scholarship going to college is pretty much a guarantee, but going to the pros, well, only time will tell. You’re putting up great numbers, Dom. You never know where you could end up… Hold up, I got to take a piss.”
“You know, Brandon, when we graduate I just may move to Denver and open a gym. ‘Barbells and Blounts’ is what I’ll call it. Marijuana is legal out there.”
“Whatever, Dom.”
Dominic stops in the middle of the street to wait while Brandon walks onto the grass to a nearby tree. As Dominic continues to smoke his marijuana, he turns to look back at the path they’ve just walked. He sees someone standing in the middle of the street, wearing a mask, and with red hair. The figure is about forty yards behind them.
“Rossi!” Dominic freezes in his tracks and
drops his smoke.
Brandon comes back over to Dominic to find his friend looking as if he’s seen a ghost.
“What’s wrong? Did I hear you say something?”
“I said, ‘Rossi,’ down there.” Brandon looks in the same direction as Dominic.
“I don’t see anything. What the hell is a Rossi?” Dominic’s frozen state seems to be wearing off. He looks at Brandon and says, “It’s Italian for one with red hair.”
“Maybe it was Ida.”
“It wasn’t any Ida.”
“Well no one is down there now. You need to stop smoking that chronic!”
• • •
Lauren is at Brooklyn’s home fixing her hair for her. Brook isn’t in the best of moods, because of her boyfriend’s attitude lately.
“Chris is driving me crazy,” she says. He doesn’t appreciate me.”
“You should dump his ass; you could do so much better.”
Brooklyn looks back at Lauren as if irritated by the comment. Brooklyn turns back around in her chair so that Lauren can continue to work on her hair. Lauren hopes Brooklyn doesn’t see the emotions on her face whenever Chris’s name is mentioned.
“You’re right,” says Brooklyn, “but I’m going to stick it out. He wouldn’t know what to do without me. You have to mold the minds of these men. Also, I refuse to allow another one of these skanks to have him.” Lauren can’t help rolling her eyes while Brooklyn speaks.
• • •
Ida is hanging out in Vicki’s bedroom.
“I’m definitely going away to college,” Ida says. “I’m ready to see the world. I haven’t been anywhere outside of Connecticut.”
“So you’re tired of Connecticut? I doubt if I’m leaving; this is all I know,” Vicki says.
“Yes, I’m tired; there are too many fake people around us. It drives me crazy.”
“I don’t care where you go, there’s going to be fake people there,” says Vicki. “You can’t escape them.”
Vicki’s cell phone rings, it’s Chris. She wants to keep her conversation a mystery to Ida so she walks away toward the bathroom.
“Hello?”
“How you doing? It’s Chris.”
“I’m fine. How are you doing?”
“I know you’re fine; however, I said, how are you doing?”
Vicki begins to blush, and she has to hold her hand over her mouth so that Ida can’t hear her giggling. Outside the closed bathroom door, Ida is listening to every word that comes out of Vicki’s mouth. Ida shakes her head in disappointment at her girlfriend.
“Damn, you’ve been looking good! You know we should hang out sometime.”
“I would love to, but you’re dating Brook.”
“Don’t even worry about her; we’re practically broken up. So what are you trying to say? Wouldn’t you like to spend some time together?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want any drama.”
“Cool. Let me worry about Brook. I got this!”
Once Ida hears that Vicki is done speaking to Chris, she quickly moves away from the bathroom door.
“So who was that on the phone?”
“Nobody really, just some boy I met over the summer.”
Ida maintains a perfect poker face.
• • •
Chris is at home, in his bedroom. He scrolls through his contacts on his phone until he gets to the name he’s looking for.
“Hello?” says Brooklyn.
“Hey, baby.”
“Where are you? You haven’t been answering your phone!”
“Of course I had practice,” says Chris. “I’ve also been busy, no big deal.”
“What the hell do you mean, busy?”
“Relax, and never forget: to have me isn’t a right but a privilege,” says Chris.
Brooklyn is shocked by what she’s just heard Chris say to her.
Brooklyn yells into the phone, “A privilege?!” She hangs up on him, then says to Lauren, “He’s lost his damn mind! I hate that I love him!”
• • •
After finishing up his homework, Brandon gets in some sit-ups while listening to D.J. Khalid featuring-Drake’s, “I’m on One!” His mother walks in his room and stands by the door.
“Great job,” she says.
“Hey, ma.”
“This song is okay, but there’s nothing like the golden era of ‘90s hip hop,” she says.
Brandon stops his workout and sits up to laugh at his mother’s statement.
She goes on, “I’ve always hated the use of the N-word in dialogue or music.”
“Some think that if it ends with an A that it’s a term of endearment, depending on who says it.”
His mother cringes. “Look, Brandon, no matter with an A or ER, it’s the same despicable word our ancestors died to end. It’s disrespectful to try to embrace the ugly word. I have a question for you.”
“Okay, ma, shoot.”
“If I take dog poop, put it on a plate, put whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry on it, is it a sundae?”
Brandon laughs. “No, it’s dog poop.”
“Exactly, no matter how the word ends, it’s equal to that dog poop.”
Mother Turner points at Brandon with her index finger and then clinches her fist to gesture that she’s dropping an imaginary microphone before walking away.
Hanging out
It’s a teacher’s in-service day, so there’s no school. Brandon and Dominic head over to Chris’s home, to hang out. Chris opens his door. “Only New York Yankee fans may enter,” he says.
“I used to live in the Bronx before my family moved to Connecticut,” says Dominic. “No problem here, brother.”
“I grew up in Hartford,” says Brandon, “My entire family are Yankee fans.”
D.J. Chris lets them both in and then heads toward his bedroom upstairs, saying, “If you were a Boston Red Sox fan, you’d have to stop at the front door.”
“What if I said that I was a Mets fan?” asks Dominic.
“Man, they’re not even relevant,” says Chris. “They’re like the little brother that still wears Underoos!” They all laugh.
“I’m for real, just go away somewhere,” says Chris. “Maybe they could use the backdoor.”
As the boys are kidding around about baseball teams, a small bird flies into Chris’s room through the open window. The bird lands on his dresser.
“What the hell!” says Chris.
Chris fans the bird back out of the window. He then turns his attention toward Dominic who has a worried expression on his face, and says, “Vaffanculo!”
A shocked and confused Brandon looks at them both. “Did I just miss something here?”
“He told me in Italian to go fuck myself. The bird is an old Italian superstition,” Dominic explains, “that if a bird flies into one’s home, it means bad luck for that person. Do you have a cat?” he asks Chris.
“I don’t have any damn cats, and I don’t believe in that garbage.”
“Why did you ask if he had a cat?” asks Brandon.
“If you hear or see a cat sneeze, it means good luck for that person.”
“Oh, really? I recall my dad saying that if bird droppings fall onto you it means good luck. Pops said he once bought $30 worth of scratch tickets after a bird took a crap onto his shoulder. That day he lost thirty bucks!” They all laugh.
“Anyway, D.J., hurry up and get dressed. I’m hungry and it’s your turn to treat.”
Chris puts on a new shirt, and Brandon looks at him oddly.
“Let’s go,” says Chris.
“What’s that, a compression shirt?”
“No, why?”
“Because you look ridiculous!”
“Oh, so it’s too small?” asks Chris. “I thi
nk I look good. It complements my body nicely.”
“You’re not going anywhere with me wearing an extra-extra-medium shirt. Take that off!”
Dominic is cracking up.
Chris rants, “Stop hating!”
“I can’t let my boy walk out of the house looking like a fool,” says Brandon, putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder while smirking at him.
“I wouldn’t be a friend then. Also, pull your pants up!”
“Aw, c’mon, give me a break!”
“Pops told me where that started so I keep my pants at my waist and not below my ass.”
“All right, I bite. What did the almighty dad say this time?”
“Having your pants low so that your underwear shows is an invite for other inmates in prison to know that you’re down for whatever,” Brandon explains.
“No shit? That’s where that crap started?” Dominic asks.
“Yup, a few knuckleheads outside prison saw it and it became a trend. A few rappers took it to another level. So, D.J., when I see you do it, or other guys now, I automatically think that you or they are down for whatever with another dude. So, Chris, are you that dude that gets it in with the honeys and then does some pillow biting with a guy? Don’t get me wrong, be who you are. You’ll still be my boy. However, you may send the wrong message to the wrong person. I can’t judge.”
Chris grabs a belt, pulls his pants up and changes his shirt. Brandon is happy that his friend is listening.
“That’s what’s up.”
“You made your point, aight,” says Chris.
“You have to be careful of following the trends of some male entertainers. Lots of them are confused about their sexuality. If you really think about it, how could a so-called hard M.C. bust a rhyme on the mic, while he’s exposing his drawers? I’ll bet he knows that it means that he’s down for prison love and doesn’t even care.”
“I agree,” Dominic says.
“I hear you,” says Chris. “What do y’all want to eat?”
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