Creator1

A few weeks later I was able to catch up with Franklin in the same manner that I had met him. He was leaning against the same hip high fence.

“You and that fuckin cheese man!” He chuckled as he saw me approaching.

We sat and broke liquid bread and cheese again.

“Beer is disgusting, and having it with cheese is the nastiest shit I have ever heard of,” helping himself to a piece of cheese and another Tacate.

“I seen you around a lot more, but I don’t really get to talk to you.” I said.

“Been busy, busy, busy.” He stated.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, I see you in there selling that shit.”

“No.” He interrupted.

“Look I know you only sell it in Paul’s and I can wait until then.”

“No. You don’t need any of this.” He insisted. He could see I was visibly frustrated. 

“Trust me, you don’t want even a taste. Look at this shit man.” He said pointing to the other side of the park. There sat my car, looking incredibly dull and in place for the area. 

“Oh shit, are those guys trying to kill you?” I whispered.

“The fuck? No man, this guy didn’t have enough cash to trade me for drugs so he gave me his car.” 

“That’s your car?” I asked baffled.

“Sure is, I even have the title and shit even a nice ‘bill of sale’” He said putting air quotes around those unimportant legal documents. 

“Look at you, moving up in the world!” I said genuinely. 

“I told you I wasn’t one of them.” He reaffirmed, staring off into the distance, slowly chewing on cheese. Maybe he was savoring the flavor, or maybe he wasn’t tasting the cheese at all. Maybe he was savoring the taste that only those who experience living in poverty have the opportunity to experience. A chance to be at the bottom, and through hard work, determination, and will be able to elevate yourself slightly. Going from the park to a car is impressive, but one would be a fool to think you can bootstrap yourself from that level of poverty to become a billionaire. Luckily, Franklin didn’t want to be a billionaire. I wasn’t sure what exactly Franklin was searching for or savoring, but he had found it, or was beginning to uncover it.

“You know you’ll never be one of them.” I said, still fuming at Franklin’s refusal to share his drugs with me. There was a loud pause, an uncomfortable silence that seemed to swallow even the ever present dull roar of traffic in the background. 

“I know.” He said solemnly. I now knew why he spent time in the front, and me in the back, we were different, and we both knew it. The topic changed and we finished our beer and cheese and headed on our separate ways, happy to catch up before we would see each other again in our appropriate positions in Paul’s Place. 

That night was one of the best nights I had ever had in my life. I had come off an easy drywall job that earned me $600, and now I was up to $2,700. This was after a significant amount of drinking and was actually down from my high point of $3,400. I figured, at two in the morning, it was time to cut my losses. The front had closed at this point and those from the front who were allowed in the back had moved in and settled in the back walls of the room. They stood ready and willing to supply anyone at these tables anything they wanted as long as they were willing to reach into their stuffed pockets and toss out greenbacks. This hour, things usually started dying down and only the big winners and losers were buying. There is something about warm, sweaty, passionate company does to bolster both your sense of cosmic domination you experience when you win big and be the first part of the recovery process for earth shattering losses. 

They sat murmuring to one another as I cashed my winnings out. They were trying to determine if I was buying or not. I saw Franklin leaning quietly against the wall, he was smirking and his head was bobbing, clearly he had drank more than he had intended. I approached him, showing off my spoils. We greeted each other boisterously, how I imagine Vikings greeted each other. 

“Can you give me a ride home?” I joked.

“Sure thing, boss man.” He snapped back, he was already 4 steps away by the time he finished his sentence, and I followed.

“Wait, Franklin, I was just messin with you.” He immediately spun around, it was as if he had immediately sobered up, which I selfishly was upset that it harshed my buzz a little bit.

“A hunnid to drive you home.” He said holding his hand out. I scoffed, shaking my head and looking up from his outstretched hand to his stoic, ravaged face. He was not going to move, and it felt as if everyone was now staring. I gave him a hundred dollar bill and he spun around and started to walk to the front and his car, and rushed after him.

We had rushed out front and were headed to his car. 

“Yo, for real, you really want a hundred bucks?” I said as he ducked into the drivers seat, I followed his lead slamming down lower than I thought into the passenger seat. I loved this car, despite how Franklin came about it. 

“I’ll never be one of them. You said it.” 

“I need to make sure, if I’m not one of them, they respect me. They need to know, that I don’t push over for friends. I need everyone in there to know, I know my place. You need to do the same. So, yeah, muthafucka, I do want a hundred bucks, you just made almost three grand!” He finished turning the car on and began to drive. 

As we drove, I regaled Franklin with my stories of my winning night and the latest gossip on who had what STD or side piece. We pulled up to the park by my place.

“You can walk the rest of the way. This where I sleep.” Franklin said.

This was my last attempt to try my luck. I asked him one more time for some junk, I could tell he was irritated with me.

“You wanna try it so bad? Give me all your winnings from tonight.” He challenged.

“All my earnings, are you outta your fuckin mind?!” 

“You want it or not?” 

“You do it with me.” I coaxed. This was wrong of me, I knew he didn’t use this stuff. He was adamant about me not using myself. He’s not the only person who can take things to ridiculous childish ultimatums. But for some reason, reason was long gone. After a moment of grave, solemn, stillness, another loud pause, Franklin muttered back, “sure.”

I reluctantly pulled out the wads of cash, some looking like bushes of small denominations and some neatly folded hundred dollar bills. 

“I know you prefer the discreet, large burlap sack with a money sign on it.” I joked.

“Relax, it’s less than three grand, chill.” He chuckled, pointing to the glove box where he wanted me to stuff the money. Inside were what looked like all the appropriate papers for the car, some cash, a small handgun, and some baggies with a tan like substance.

“Thas it right there, grab a few of them.” Franklin gestured to the glovebox. 

I didn’t even know what to do, I was what I would imagine an awkward prom date felt like with a more experienced partner. 

“Now John, this will make you feel warm, like the best, most loving hug you will ever get. You will never have this hug again, and you’ll always be looking for it.” He locked eyes with me, he was starting to scare me,  “You’re going to be able to get out of yourself, and then you’ll sleep. It’s nothing to use all this money for.” 

This was his last attempt, I would not allow haunting, informed warnings to stop my winning streak. I looked at the money sitting in the glove box and shut my deposit on this experience. Franklin pierced his lips, a deal was a deal.