Creator1

I left straight from my tapas to go to a small construction job for some small time investors. I liked working with these guys cause they would provide the tools. Sometimes I would hire dropouts or meth addicts to help me with these jobs and keep the difference, but not on small jobs like the one they had me doing today. I would be home soon.

Just as I had predicted I was returning back to my apartment after a short walk from where I got off the bus. It was early in the evening, the familiar blue tint that shrouded everything now sank away and was replaced by darkness broken up by beacons of yellow and orange lights. These parts looked worse than they were, I rarely felt in danger ever here, but most did, maybe because I belonged in a place like this. A place mostly forgotten about, only to be thought of when it’s time to scoff or pity it or the destitute fools who are too stupid or lazy to leave. But I saw this place for what it really was, real.

I lived in a small studio apartment, with a sectioned off bathroom. The building was a 4 story tall red brick box on the corner of Langdon and Cliffton. Like parts of Clifford Park, this too had a small section of patchy grass surrounded by a waist high black fence, which was a heartwarming, modest attempt at classing the joint up. It was appreciated in an environment where chain-link fences adorned with razor wire was the standard. The small piece of land housed a single, generous tree. Standing firm, it supported a tire swing that was frequently used by other residents, it stretched up higher than the building itself which led to its amazing ability to shield the entire property with shade when it was needed most.

I was in a hurry to get back home. I needed to change, eat, and get to cards. I rushed to the stairs, it was ten steps up to the entry, unless you lived in the lower units, then you took the decent. Sometimes, these ten steps (just the beginning mind you) were Sisyphus’s rock, times like now, they seemed to be a quick hop and skip up. By the third step I was cresting the landing and starting to pass the metal mailboxes.

Mail can wait. It was time to get to cards.

“Jon!” I jumped. Nobody in my building knew my name, and nobody ever talked to me. I liked it that way, I made my friends at the tables and bars. I could saw Franklin emerge from the way I walked from.

“Hey Franklin.” I said, shocked that he was outside of my place. I had always been taught to be nice to those less fortunate than I was, I wasn’t so sure about those people following me back to my home.

“Hey man. Sorry if I scared you. I was thinking about what you were saying about playing some cards man. I think I want to play.”

“I’m not sure man. If I’m being real with you, you shouldn’t be going to these games if you don’t have the money to lose.” I’m such a fucking hypocrite, but I was right.

“Is this enough?” He said, as he flashed a wad of several hundred dollars in cash. My eyes widened, scowling, I waved hand downward slowly, signaling to him to put his cash away.

“Franklin, you don’t wanna play man. This is only going to end poorly for you. Believe me.” I knew from experience how much money you can lose at these kind of things. Last week, I had earned $3,500, two weeks before that, I lost $10,500, a vicious cycle of stacked odds and people willing to beat the shit out of you until you cough up every last cent or paid them in favors. Never let it get to owing favors, those are way more expensive than the cash or broken legs.

“I really just want a warm place to go tonight man.” He conceded.

I wondered for a while if this guy was just trying to get into my place.

“Alright Franklin, I’ll be out in a second.” Franklin made his way over to the old, wobbly paint peeled picnic bench that sat below the tree in darkness to wait. Surely this will cause problems for me, either from the neighbors or the police. Imagine, a strange, awful smelling, junkie hobo sitting outside your kid’s window on their picnic bench, an ass beating waiting to happen at the least.

“Just come in.” I insisted, he followed me up to my room.

Franklin stood firmly, scanning the studio, the only door was too a bathroom. He nodded.

“To your liking?”

“Oh man, you know me, I don’t complain.”

No Franklin, I don’t know you.

“You want a sandwich? Help yourself.” I offered, taking my work boots off, still watching him observe it all. This must have been a strange predicament for him to be in. How often do homeless people get invited into a stranger’s home. As I was worrying about him casing the joint or getting ready to rob me, he must have been thinking he might become a victim of another serial killer. Thankfully for both of us, neither were true. He made himself a peanut butter sandwich, I had never seen one with that much filling, the thought of the texture made me shudder, but he thanked me multiple times. He was wearing different clothes than when we saw each other in the park, he dressed up for the occasion. Everything he wore was still stained, but it fit much more nicely and just looked as though he wore them all day. He smelt awful, it wasn’t until he was in an enclosed area that I noticed.

“I don’t know how else to say this Franklin, but you fuckin’ stink. They aren’t going to let us in with you smelling like that. If you wanna go, go ahead and use my shower.” He looked at me for a good while. NOW he’s feeling serial killer vibes.

“No homo bro. I just want to play. Look, you can even lock the door dude.” I said, showing him the lock by engaging and disengaging it.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure man, of course.” I snapped back. I was getting impatient now, Franklin’s gratitude was interfering with my ability to make or lose my money. Honestly, I really didn’t care too much if we both went and he wasn’t let in, but it would maybe ruin my reputation at the casinos if I was bringing around people who shouldn’t be there. Especially cause some of the mob tables were racist.

He quickly showered and told me what seemed like a million times how thankful he was and that he felt like a new person. I politely listened and responded. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s nice, you’re clean and full, good for you, let’s fucking go gamble dude!

We finally arrived at a bar three streets over and entered, it was an unimpressive dive bar called ‘Paul’s place’. Dimly lit and hazy with smoke, the bar was a depressing watering hole for local migrant workers. These guys would stab each other for nothing, and their drinking was unparalleled. All these guys were commercial construction workers, they made the big bucks, I knew this because they were my first stop after bad nights. These guys took pity on my losses and that I was a residential pleb, but they would buy me drinks all the time. But to get here, I first needed to have either a great or horrible night and not stop until I had one or the other. Despite how rowdy, gross, violent, and fun it was in the front, the action was in the back. That’s what she said.

“Hey AJ, my man, how’s it hangin’? Commit any hate crimes lately?’” AJ was the muscle for the people running the games in the back. Standing six foot 7 inches, weighing well over three hundred pounds, AJ was a product of the No Child Left Behind Act and to me represented somewhat of a modern day Lenny. He had to hunch when he attempted to stand, and his presence posted by the back room entrance was enough to stop anyone who wanted back there. I had several slurred and sloppy heart to hearts with AJ at this point. I knew that he was raised by his uncle after his parents were found in the trunk of an abandoned car. After he started to fail in school, he was quickly taken out by his uncle who showed him his world, a world we were not allowed to talk about but more than welcome to participate in.

“You know I can’t let you in without cash upfront, Jawn!” He bellowed.

“He’s just kiddin’ I’m a regular.” I assured Franklin.

“Nah bud, we had a deal. I don’t think you can pay up on vigs, and I don’t wanna break your fuckin legs, no cash, no playin’” AJ insisted, stooping to fully stand in the way of the door, showing his commitment to what I thought was a joke, but I respected that he liked me enough to stop me from myself.

“Well, it just so happens, that I remembered and brought cash.” I said, flashing cash I did not need to be spending. He nodded and pushed the door open. He didn’t acknowledge Franklin, but this was normal for AJ, he had a hard time speaking, let alone meeting people he didn’t know. He once told me, if his uncle or people in his uncle’s affairs didn’t introduce him, he wasn’t supposed to talk to them. AJ was a good friend, but a better soldier.