Creator1

The back was less spectacular than the front. It had three card tables in the back, two were full of players. These were not Vegas felt covered tables, they were large round tables enough for ten chairs, and more if needed. Around the room there were associates of AJ’s uncle, they were there to lend out money to the less fortunate and less emotionally intelligent. The room was
filled with boisterous laughter, the sound of clinking glass and silverware as people ate, drank, and lost money, a sound that was executed by our entrance. One of the associates in the back who I’d never actually met said.

“Look who brought in the only person who actually works in this place.” Gesturing to me, referring to me working construction. The group responded with relieved, muffled greetings, they were just happy I wasn’t with the government or here to help. Having these people know everything about you, and you know nothing about them was something you had to become comfortable with in a place like this. Still, nobody talked to Franklin until he was sitting at the table.

Eventually tensions eased as everyone got their fill of booze, it was a rather tame game, one of the reasons I came here. The night was uneventful for me, I was up, then down, then even, back up, then I lost all the money I came with. Franklin had a much more interesting night, he too lost all of his money, but he made a name for himself there. Some of AJ’s uncles’ friends were very interested in Franklin’s needle delivery service, particularly if there was a way he could guarantee a potential victim would contract something fatal. Some things should just stay as feature requests.

One last thing he mentioned, was that he could get heroine on the cheap, this also piqued everyone’s interest, not just the goombahs. After a night of excessive drinking and loosing our money, we stumbled out of the back of Paul’s place and we walked back to my place.

“Alright man, you can crash here if you want, but I don’t got any furniture for you to sleep on.”

Franklin raised his hand and shook his head, “I’m good, I’ll sleep it off in the park.”

I was in disbelief, this is the first person I’ve met who was given a no strings attached chance to stay in a home for free and he was choosing to stay in a park? Maybe all those Reagan supporters were right – those people just choose to be homeless! I was far too drunk and tired to analyze what was going on, and I wasn’t about to beg a stranger that I didn’t know into my home. I gave a judgmental, processing, open-mouthed look for what seemed to be an eternity.

“Gotta be out in nature as often as you can, before you have to live inside.” He philosophized, again.

“okay.” I said walking into the building without looking back.

Over the next several days I saw Franklin both in passing in the neighborhood and at the games. He wasn’t playing this time though, he was working taking orders to dump needles on businesses that didn’t pay protection money. He also was filling the occasional request for heroine that came from some of the players.

I noticed that he would wear different, nicer clothes when he would be at Paul’s place, but something that struck me as strange was that he spent most of his time in the front of the bar, acting a fool with those fools out there. When he was back here, the joviality that I would feel in the front would fade and it would be all business, even addressing me was different back there.