by Ws Greer
Now it’s my turn to look confused as Whitney gets up from the couch and moves to the door. She doesn’t seem at all surprised by the knock, and she even attempts to straighten out her frizzy brown hair before reaching for the door knob. When the door swings open, I see a smooth-faced white guy wearing blue sweatpants and a white hoodie. His facial hair is trimmed into a stupid-looking goatee, and when he sees my mother, he tries to do some dumb ain’t-I-sexy face at her. The moment I see him, I know he’s a drug dealer. Well that didn’t take long, did it? Whitney continues running her fingers through her hair as she leans over to whisper to her guest, the two of them keeping their voices low so I can’t hear, then Whitney lets him in and closes the door behind him, and I feel the familiar sensation of my blood temperature creeping up. What the hell is going on now?
“Solomon, my friend is here to give me the medicine I need. I need you to stay out here while I take him to the back and pay him for it,” Whitney says to me as she grabs our new guest by the hand and leads him down the hall to her room. The asshole even has the audacity to flash a half-smile at me as they head towards the narrow hallway.
“Pay him? You just said we don’t have any money,” I reply, and as the words come out of my mouth, I realize what she means. She’s going to go have sex with him for the drugs. Either that or suck him off. She doesn’t even respond to me as they walk out of the living room, and the next sound I hear is the door to her bedroom closing.
I stand in the kitchen alone, wondering what it is I’m about to do. Whitney has just brought some stranger in our home to screw them for drugs while I stand in a kitchen that only has a piece of cheese in it for dinner. We’re broke, and the little money my mother does get goes to her heroin habit. How am I supposed to live like this? I’m in hell, and if I don’t do something about it, I don’t see how I can survive. I can’t. Not with her as my mother. Her addiction is more important to her than my well-being. I can’t live like this anymore. I will not live like this anymore.
There’s no more silence now. In my head, I hear nothing but never-ending screaming. I can’t let this happen. I don’t need peace. There is no peace. There is no quiet. There is no life if this is how I’m living. I’m in a nightmare that has become a horrible rerun every single day. I won’t have it anymore. I have to do something.
It’s time to change the channel.
I took the time on the walk over to this rickety old red and white house, to figure out what exactly I wanted to do. I thought about the way everything has been for me in my life leading up to this very moment, and I when I arrive and step onto the white porch, unintentionally kicking up flakes of peeling white paint with each step, I know what I need to do.
When I step up to the front door of Nix’s two-bedroom house, I beat on it with my fist until it swings open, but it’s not Nix who opens up. I’m standing face to face with Nix’s father, Moe. Just like his son, Moe is over six feet tall with shoulders as wide as the house he’s occupying. He’s got a face covered in thick, twisted hair, and unlike his son, who’s covered in muscles, Moe has a stomach that pokes out from all the drinking and eating he’s done in his pathetic life. He’s like Santa Claus in a white tank top, and I can tell from the glaze in his eyes that he’s drunk. No surprise there. He looks at me with malice in his glare, because that’s what people like him do. They want to strike fear into the hearts of everybody they can, because it makes them feel better. But what Moe doesn’t understand nearly as well as he should, is that I don’t have a heart.
“Here we go again. Why am I not surprised to see that it’s you, Solomon? Why are you beating on my door like you’re the damn police?” Moe barks at me. After seven years of being “friends” with Nix, I’ve barely spoken to Moe. He usually ignores me and Nix when I come over because he’s a self-centered asshole who only cares about his own well-being. So he knows me, but he doesn’t know me. I can tell from the way he puffs his chest out that he thinks he can scare me. I give him an A for effort.
“Where’s Nix?” I ask, glaring into Moe’s squinty, blood shot eyes.
“It’s too late for you to be pulling Nix out of the house, Solomon,” Moe replies. “Take your ass home,” he says as the stench of liquor comes racing from his gross mouth.
I really don’t feel like wasting time on Moe, so I decide to cut our conversation short. As thoughts of my mother and her form of payment for drugs plays in my head, I grab Moe by his tank top and pull his body towards me as I spin around and slingshot his chubby ass down the cold steps of the porch. Paint chips shoot up into the air like sparks exploding off of fireworks, and I watch from the doorway as he tumbles, hitting every step on the way down until he crashes on the concrete at the bottom. That escalated quickly, but he picked a bad time to be annoying. I’ve got moves to make, and no time for anyone else with an addiction of any kind.
While he struggles to wrap his fat brain around what’s going on, I walk down the steps and straddle him, sitting on his flabby chest and pinning his arms to the icy concrete with my knees.
“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind, boy?” Moe shrieks, but I ignore his slurred words, because all I can think about is what my mother is doing right now.
I reach into my left pocket and pull out my favorite tool, extracting the razor blade and placing it on his throat, imagining it being Whitney’s. I hear Nix come to the door just as I make myself comfortable on Moe’s fat belly. I can tell he wants to say something, but when I see his mother come stand behind him with a black eye, I know why he doesn’t try to convince me to stop, and I give Moe all of my attention.
“Good evening, Moe,” I greet him with a smile, which he doesn’t reciprocate. How rude. “Quite the sticky situation we’ve gotten ourselves into, eh? Now, I want you to take a minute to listen to me clearly.” I slowly move the box cutter over to his ear and push it forward. “Out of respect for my good friend Nix, I’m actually not going to kill you in front of your house tonight. I want to, but I won’t. Instead, I’m going to make sure you know that if you ever put your chunky hands on Nix or Justine ever again, I’m going to come back here and finish the job, and there will be more pieces of you to go along with this one.”
When Moe frowns, trying to decipher my words, I push the tip of the blade through the soft flesh and slice off a small piece of his earlobe.
“No more earrings for this ear!” I yell as Moe lets out a blood curdling scream. While Moe cries like a baby, I get off of him and laugh as I ascend the steps and stop in front of Nix and his mother. “Your dad says you can come out and talk to me for a while. So, come on. I’ve got something I want to run by you.”
Justine looks like she has no clue how to react, so she just stands there, peering past me at Moe as blood drips onto the sidewalk. I know eventually she’ll go to help her husband, but I can tell she’s taking a moment to enjoy him being in pain. Nix looks at his dad in amazement, and I think I even see a hint of a smile as the two of us leave Justine standing in the doorway and walk past Moe to stand on the sidewalk next to the street. Before we begin, Moe gets up and slowly makes his way inside, clutching his bloody ear while Justine finally snaps out of it and helps him into the house.
“Dude, I’m not sure if I should thank you or tell you how insane you must be to do that to him,” Nix says, shaking his head. I can still see the joy in his face though.
“Aww, that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day,” I reply with a grin before going completely serious. “I meant what I said, Nix. If he touches either of you again, that’s it, we’re removing the blade. Got it?”
“Got it,” Nix says with a nod. “Now what’s going on that made you decide to come over here and cut off a piece of my dad’s ear?”
I think about Whitney and how she probably has that drug dealer’s balls in her mouth right now, and decide to not divulge that information. Instead, I focus on the future. Whitney is the past.
“How tired are you of being broke and hungry?” I ask
him, tilting my head as I wait for his response.
“Just as tired as you are, I’m sure,” he replies. “But why do you ask?”
“Because I’m more than tired of it. I’ve reached my limit, pulled the last straw, come to my wit’s end. The straw that broke the camel’s back has been placed, and I’m done, Nix. In other words, I’m sick of being broke and hungry!”
“Okay, I get that.”
“Good, because you’re the only person in the world I’d want with me when I claw my way to the top. I’m thinking it’s time you and I start taking what we want. I’m thinking we’re done sitting around in broken down homes with the world’s shittiest parents. I’m thinking you and I put our skills to good use, and go take money from one of our fine local establishments.”
Nix frowns, surprised by the idea.
“Wait, what? Are you saying you want to rob a place?” he asks, still frowning.
“Unless you’ve got a better idea on how we can get some money fast.” He doesn’t answer, choosing to look at the ground in front of him instead. “I thought not, because I’ve already asked myself how else I could come up, but let’s face facts, Nix, we live in Strawberry Mansion. We are in hell, and the only way out of it is to fight your way out by any means necessary. It’s either that, or go back into the house and deal with your father and his half an earlobe, until you’re old enough to move out and live month to month in one of these broken down houses yourself, and have some poor and hungry kids of your own.”
Nix keeps staring at the ground and I can see the wheels spinning in his head. I know I’m getting to him.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to perpetuate this kind of existence. I want to change the channel, and it’d be a lot easier if I had you with me,” I tell him, and he finally lifts his head.
“You’ve got a point,” he says as he looks back at his own dilapidated house where his parents are inside performing first aid on his drunken father’s ear. After a moment, he turns back to me with determination in his eyes. “Alright Solomon, I’m down,” he replies, nodding. “But where?”
I smile from ear to ear, because Nix is exactly the kind of guy I need by my side. He’s loyal and dangerous, and I love it.
“I want to hit Johnny’s,” I reply finally, talking about the Italian restaurant that always gets plenty of customers, but Nix’s motivated face suddenly shifts.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. That place is protected by the Scarfo family.”
I let out a loud exhale. “Exactly what the hell is a Scarfo family?”
“You don’t know?” Nix answers. “It’s the mob. Stepping on their toes means disappearing forever.”
It’s like his words are offensive to my ears. I’ve never known Nix to be afraid of anything. He’s always been smart and calculated, but never afraid. I think about what he said and decide that if he’s mentioning this, he has a good reason.
“Fine,” I relent. “Then we’re going after the Cash N Check. Or is that protected too?”
“Depends on which one.”
“Ah you’re killin’ me here, Nix.”
“I’m not trying to chicken out or anything, Solomon, but if we’re going to do this, we have to be smart about it. I’m just trying to make sure we don’t mess with the wrong people. The Scarfo family? The mob? Wrong people to piss off.”
“I couldn’t care less about pissing off the mob. This is about taking control of our lives,” I snip, glaring at him.
“Hold up. Who’s that over there?”
Nix nudges me and nods towards the street. My eyes follow where he’s looking and I see a figure standing across the street from us, wearing blue jeans and a blue hoodie that’s hiding their identity in the darkness. I can tell from the frame of the person that they’re not very big, but whoever they are, they picked a bad time to come eavesdropping. I reach into my pocket and feel the cold metal of the box cutter, but when the person speaks, I let it go.
“Solomon?” the girl says as she stands up straight and removes her hood.
Well I’ll be damned. It’s Reina.
“WELL, WELL. YOU’RE far from home,” I call to her as I approach, recognizing those blue eyes reflecting in the street light. Reina’s blonde hair is glowing like the sun, even in the night. I like something about this girl, but I don’t trust anybody, so even as I see her smile at me, internally I’m approaching with caution. I’d hate to have to hurt her if it came to that.
“I’m aware,” she responds, her voice sounding more at ease than when she called my name. She sounded nervous then, like she wasn’t sure if it was me. Now that she knows it is, she’s comfortable, and I don’t think there’s another person in the world who feels comfortable around me besides Nix.
The two of us stare at each other for a while, and I take a second to admire the soft features of her face, focusing on her full lips, but then I remember Nix is still standing behind me, so I address him before giving my full attention to Reina.
“Nix,” I say to him after I turn around. “Moe gave his blessing for you to stay out a while tonight. Do me a favor and get any info you can about Cash N Check. I want to know everything we can about the place if we’re going to do this. Stealing money makes no sense if we go to jail before we can even spend it. You and I will meet up again after I talk to Reina.”
Nix looks past me at the girl who he knows doesn’t fit it in this neighborhood, before replying, “Who’s Reina?”
“My new play-thing, apparently,” I reply, being vague on purpose. Who I’m talking to isn’t anybody’s business, not even Nix’s. I glare at him while he works himself past his concern and finally walks away in the direction of the check cashing place we’ll probably be borrowing a few dollars from soon. Once he’s gone, I turn around and eye Reina.
“What are you doing out here, Reina Wilde?” I ask her.
“Well, I was looking for you.”
“And you knew to find me here?” I respond in real curiosity. How would Reina know to find me at Nix’s house in the middle of the evening? She seems to always be popping up at places no one would know to look for me, which is why I don’t trust her. Only Nix has earned my trust, and not even Reina’s pretty little face will earn it this fast.
“No, I got lost. I was just heading back to the train,” she says, eyeing me to gauge my reaction. As unbelievable as that excuse sounds, I know Reina’s not from Strawberry Mansion, so getting lost around here seems like something she might actually do, which would explain why she sounded so nervous when she called my name a second ago. She was relieved she found me after having to walk around the neighborhood. It’s a good thing she did, too. Who knows how long her luck would’ve held up out here?
“Tisk, tisk, Reina. This isn’t a safe place,” I say behind a chuckle. “You realize that, right? Strawberry Mansion is known for its violence.”
“Yeah, I realize I’m not in Kansas anymore,” she replies, rolling her blue eyes. She has an attitude and an edginess in her personality that I like. I feel it calling to me when I look at her.
“Come on, Reina. Let’s talk,” I say as I turn around and start walking. I know she’ll follow, and sure enough, I hear her footsteps quickening to catch up to me.
“So, uhh,” she begins, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand and a frown.
“No, no. I have a question for you.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she says, staring at the side of my face while we walk. When I turn to look at her, I see concern in her eyes, even though she’s trying to hide behind a thick strand of golden hair. She thinks I’ll be angry about her eavesdropping on my conversation with Nix. That’s funny.
“I don’t care if you did,” I fire back. It wouldn’t matter to me if she heard every word the two of us said. First off, I’m not hiding anything from anybody, and second, if she can’t handle that conversation, she may as well stop getting on the train to come see me, because the conversations Nix and I will have in the future will be fa
r worse. Or should I say, far better?
“Oh,” is all she says in response, so I continue with the question I had in mind as I face forward, put my hands in my pockets and march down the cold, dark street.
“Why do you keep coming here?” I ask without looking at her.
“I told you.”
“Ah yes, because I’m interesting.”
“Look, I’m sure you think I’m some stupid rich kid who doesn’t know anything. Maybe I don’t know anything about your life, but I can tell you one thing, Solomon King—you don’t know a thing about mine either.”
There it is again, that attitude that I find so appealing. Reina is a little firecracker. I like firecrackers!
“Hmm,” is my only response as we keep walking. “So you wanna be my friend, huh?”
“I do,” she answers quickly.
“Because you’ve never met anybody like me where you’re from.”
“I haven’t.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” I counter.
“I know what’s good for me and what’s not,” she snips, putting a tiny smile on my lips. I like when she’s fiery.
“Alright. Why don’t you tell me about your life, Reina? Make me understand why a rich kid from a good neighborhood who has nice clothes, a warm jacket, and money in her pocket is coming to a neighborhood like mine to see someone like me. Because it just doesn’t make sense.”
The two of us keep walking while I wait for Reina to spill the beans about her life. I’m just dying to hear why she’d risk her life coming down here. She doesn’t have to spend time in Strawberry Mansion like me and Nix do. I’m here because I have no choice. My parents cursed me to be here. They’re the reason I have to climb out, scratching and clawing for everything. My life was hard before I was ever born, and hers was like a fairy tale. Her life is a dream, so why would she intentionally keep placing herself inside my nightmare? After some time to think about her response, Reina finally speaks up.