Post by Deleted on Nov 13, 2014 23:57:46 GMT
I'm young, rich, connected, out of work and craving. What did you think I was gonna' do, go to church?
My cousin Herb hooked me up this time. Usually I'd do my bit to support the local economy but with work and two potential chances to relight my career flushed down the shitter, I needed a little extra to take the edge off.
Now I've smoked the finest from Tijuana up to Vancouver Island but let me tell you, nothing compares to the fine, FINE substance Herb gets. It's not something I can fully explain but I'll try to. Where he gets it is a closely guarded secret that even me, his own flesh and blood can't make him compromise and if silence is the price to pay for quality like this then so be it. I won't mug the kid. It'd be a disservice to us both.
On the inhale, it's smoother than mountain air and tastes like oak mixed with dry red wine. On the exhale, it comes out even finer. Rolled properly with the quality tobacco, you could smoke this for weeks at a time without coughing and only ever stop to pass out.
Speaking of passed out, Jules, my PA looked ready to at any moment. Lying on my bed next to me, her eyelids were sagging like a pair of Brooklyn jeans and her tummy rose and fell like when she was sleeping. I waved the smouldering joint in front of her face. “Hey, come on sleepyhead. We haven't even got pizza yet,”
At the mention of pizza she bolted up right and yawned. “Get it delivered, Travis. Don't go down now. It's like eleven."
She had a point. I hadn't done what most people did and flocked from the nest once I came into cash and well, Logan Heights wasn't as much a nest as it was a smashed bird feed with nails dropped in the seeds. I'd also made a point of telling Jules not to go out past ten round these parts. One because she always stayed past ten so she had to crash at my place and two because it legit wasn't safe for anyone, least not an eighteen year old still settling in. I wouldn't normally acknowledge someone calling me out on my BS but I would this time. She was cute enough.
“It's like a street down. If I call now, I can be in and out in seconds.”
“Story of your life huh?” she said, giving me the finger with a big grin.
I leaned over and ran my fingers down her tummy. “You don't usually complain.”
“If it takes longer to complain about than it does to do it, it's not worth complaining about,” she said, leaning back into a mass of pillows.
I prodded her in the side. “Well you can complain about me leaving for pizza when I come back with pizza and by that point, you'll be too hungry to care.”
“Just be safe,” she yawned, adjusting the pillow behind her head.
I slipped off the bed, grabbed my jacket and keys and left my apartment. As soon as I shut the door I hit Speed Dial #3 for Billy, the manager of Mama John's Pizza.
“Same as always Travis?”
“You betcha' but make it two and don't be thrifty on the bacon bits. I know times are hard Billy but my loyalty comes at a price and that price is bacon.”
“Right. It'll be ready by the time you get here.”
Outside, a murky sheet had been pulled over the horizon. No sun, no stars, no air planes even, just a purple fog hanging over the city. The streets were similarly empty. Nobody who owned a car dared park it outside lest they find it being raced down the highway on the six AM news. I used the garage underneath the apartment building itself. The guy who owned the block charged extra for that so most of my neighbors didn't use it.
On the next street, there was a guy with his hands in his pockets with no hair, Tim boots and a blue bandana wrapped around his dome. One of the Hispanic sets on Logan Heights. I probably knew the guy but was too high to look or make conversation. He stared right into my eyes as I walked past but made no sound or movement. If he did, he'd have got a clenched fist full of keys to the throat.
Mama John's Pizza Palace was surprisingly empty for an evening too. Eleven wasn't too late in Mama John's terms but it was a Thursday after all.
When Billy appeared behind the counter he acknowledged me with a nod and a grin. “Travis, what's good man? You're quick. You're a little ahead of me.”
“Cool man. Take your time. I'm only your best customer.”
“You're also my worst customer. The amount of times you puked in here before you got famous? I couldn't count.”
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, an incoming text message.
“You could probably sell that shit on eBay and be done with this shit,” I said.
I pulled out my cell and opened the message. It was Tamwar the Caterer of all people, an angry man with a soft interior who I'd made friends with during my tenure at IWA.
“Yo Travis. When're you gonna' sign a contract with Metro Pro? There's like twenty people already and I know they can't miss you out. Sunshine and Mort opening a promotion together. Unbelievable.”
My hands trembled. From the ashes of IWA, a new promotion had spawned and they hadn't even thought to reach the man who made IWA what it was? That was unbelievable.
I didn't even bother to text Tamwar back. I dialed Marty Sunshine and as always it went straight to voice mail, not that that ever stopped me from venting before. “What the fuck is this I hear Marty? You guys are running your own show and didn't think to call The Party Starter? Get real man. You're supposed to be my lawyer. How the fuck do I pay you for consultancy when I don't have a job? Asshooooooooole.”
Call ended. I turned to look at Billy just as he slid the boxes across the counter. “These ones are on us. Enjoy 'em man.”
“Will do man. Thank you. Enjoy your night.”
I took the boxes, nodded at Billy and stepped out into the darkness.
My ears rang. Or was that a siren? Why did my ribs hurt? Why was I wet? Jules? Where are you? Who was this guy staring at me? When my eyes met his, he turned to someone I couldn't see.
“His eyes are open,” the man turned back to me. “Just hold on son. You're gonna' be okay.”
How dare he tell me what to do. The only thing I wanted to do right now was just... close my eyes.
My cousin Herb hooked me up this time. Usually I'd do my bit to support the local economy but with work and two potential chances to relight my career flushed down the shitter, I needed a little extra to take the edge off.
Now I've smoked the finest from Tijuana up to Vancouver Island but let me tell you, nothing compares to the fine, FINE substance Herb gets. It's not something I can fully explain but I'll try to. Where he gets it is a closely guarded secret that even me, his own flesh and blood can't make him compromise and if silence is the price to pay for quality like this then so be it. I won't mug the kid. It'd be a disservice to us both.
On the inhale, it's smoother than mountain air and tastes like oak mixed with dry red wine. On the exhale, it comes out even finer. Rolled properly with the quality tobacco, you could smoke this for weeks at a time without coughing and only ever stop to pass out.
Speaking of passed out, Jules, my PA looked ready to at any moment. Lying on my bed next to me, her eyelids were sagging like a pair of Brooklyn jeans and her tummy rose and fell like when she was sleeping. I waved the smouldering joint in front of her face. “Hey, come on sleepyhead. We haven't even got pizza yet,”
At the mention of pizza she bolted up right and yawned. “Get it delivered, Travis. Don't go down now. It's like eleven."
She had a point. I hadn't done what most people did and flocked from the nest once I came into cash and well, Logan Heights wasn't as much a nest as it was a smashed bird feed with nails dropped in the seeds. I'd also made a point of telling Jules not to go out past ten round these parts. One because she always stayed past ten so she had to crash at my place and two because it legit wasn't safe for anyone, least not an eighteen year old still settling in. I wouldn't normally acknowledge someone calling me out on my BS but I would this time. She was cute enough.
“It's like a street down. If I call now, I can be in and out in seconds.”
“Story of your life huh?” she said, giving me the finger with a big grin.
I leaned over and ran my fingers down her tummy. “You don't usually complain.”
“If it takes longer to complain about than it does to do it, it's not worth complaining about,” she said, leaning back into a mass of pillows.
I prodded her in the side. “Well you can complain about me leaving for pizza when I come back with pizza and by that point, you'll be too hungry to care.”
“Just be safe,” she yawned, adjusting the pillow behind her head.
I slipped off the bed, grabbed my jacket and keys and left my apartment. As soon as I shut the door I hit Speed Dial #3 for Billy, the manager of Mama John's Pizza.
“Same as always Travis?”
“You betcha' but make it two and don't be thrifty on the bacon bits. I know times are hard Billy but my loyalty comes at a price and that price is bacon.”
“Right. It'll be ready by the time you get here.”
Outside, a murky sheet had been pulled over the horizon. No sun, no stars, no air planes even, just a purple fog hanging over the city. The streets were similarly empty. Nobody who owned a car dared park it outside lest they find it being raced down the highway on the six AM news. I used the garage underneath the apartment building itself. The guy who owned the block charged extra for that so most of my neighbors didn't use it.
On the next street, there was a guy with his hands in his pockets with no hair, Tim boots and a blue bandana wrapped around his dome. One of the Hispanic sets on Logan Heights. I probably knew the guy but was too high to look or make conversation. He stared right into my eyes as I walked past but made no sound or movement. If he did, he'd have got a clenched fist full of keys to the throat.
Mama John's Pizza Palace was surprisingly empty for an evening too. Eleven wasn't too late in Mama John's terms but it was a Thursday after all.
When Billy appeared behind the counter he acknowledged me with a nod and a grin. “Travis, what's good man? You're quick. You're a little ahead of me.”
“Cool man. Take your time. I'm only your best customer.”
“You're also my worst customer. The amount of times you puked in here before you got famous? I couldn't count.”
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, an incoming text message.
“You could probably sell that shit on eBay and be done with this shit,” I said.
I pulled out my cell and opened the message. It was Tamwar the Caterer of all people, an angry man with a soft interior who I'd made friends with during my tenure at IWA.
“Yo Travis. When're you gonna' sign a contract with Metro Pro? There's like twenty people already and I know they can't miss you out. Sunshine and Mort opening a promotion together. Unbelievable.”
My hands trembled. From the ashes of IWA, a new promotion had spawned and they hadn't even thought to reach the man who made IWA what it was? That was unbelievable.
I didn't even bother to text Tamwar back. I dialed Marty Sunshine and as always it went straight to voice mail, not that that ever stopped me from venting before. “What the fuck is this I hear Marty? You guys are running your own show and didn't think to call The Party Starter? Get real man. You're supposed to be my lawyer. How the fuck do I pay you for consultancy when I don't have a job? Asshooooooooole.”
Call ended. I turned to look at Billy just as he slid the boxes across the counter. “These ones are on us. Enjoy 'em man.”
“Will do man. Thank you. Enjoy your night.”
I took the boxes, nodded at Billy and stepped out into the darkness.
My ears rang. Or was that a siren? Why did my ribs hurt? Why was I wet? Jules? Where are you? Who was this guy staring at me? When my eyes met his, he turned to someone I couldn't see.
“His eyes are open,” the man turned back to me. “Just hold on son. You're gonna' be okay.”
How dare he tell me what to do. The only thing I wanted to do right now was just... close my eyes.
