Chapter 3.

I Was A Terror Since The Public School Era

Bathroom passes, cutting classes, squeezing asses
Smoking blunts was a daily routine

Since 13, a chubby n* on the scene. . .

Dumbin‘ out, just me and my crew

‘Cause all we wanna do is
Bullshit & Party
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit
And party and bullshit

So, Around 9:30 I got the call from the bullpen to head upstairs and relieve Mari. But, before I ran onto the mound I decided to run to my car, have a quick smoke, re-up on motivation & stimulation, and check my phone. It was cool, not chilly but brisk enough to wish I’d grabbed my jacket. I propped the door open and quickly closed it behind me, while I started the engine. Ruffling through my bag, I grab my Newport’s, my cell phone, and my makeup case. After lighting up, I take a deep pull and exhale. Yes, I’d wished I never took up smoking. My step-mother smoked, my father was a closet smoker until he caught my brother and myself smoking. He hid it well, not wanting to set a poor example – I literally had no clue, mainly because the smell of smoke from my step-mother’s house/car/wherever you are smoking was so overwhelming anyway that it dominated your senses. We all smelled like ciggys, so when I’d hug him or was close to him I couldn’t smell it, and so I never knew. He told me I’d regret ever starting, and he was correct.

As I took another pull I glanced at my phone and saw a few missed calls and a missed text. I remembered that Lou wanted to talk when I saw that I’d missed his call. He was either coming or not, I wasn’t stressing it. I pulled my visor down and opened my case of makeup, pulled out a caramel colored lipstick and lightly applied it. As I reapplied my makeup I decided to lightly reapply my energy, and glanced into the mirror after. It was dark in the car, and dark in the bar, and my pupils seemed not to be raging big. I decided to line my lips a little to take the pressure off the baby blues which managed to draw attention, big pupils or not. Diversion.

My passenger door suddenly had a knock and I startled. Normally, I’m more aware of my surroundings, and was a little disappointed in my lack of attention. The Waiter opened my door and helped himself to my passenger seat. I looked at him curiously, threw a shy smile his way. He perceived that as sly and asked me what I was up to in here. He’s one of those co-workers I mentioned before who has shared the “wealth” when he had it, so I offered him a bump. He gladly accepted. I joined him and then offered him a smoke from my open pack. He pulled one out, lit it, lit mine, and lingered looking into my eyes as I turned my face toward his for the lighter. I took a drag and looked down, smiling bashfully as I exhaled. He put his two fingers under my chin to lift my face up and towards him, and I started laughing. “Do you know how sexy you look?”, he asked. I guess the goods kicked in. The wait staff also wore all black, and he always looked good in his crisp black shirt and pants, perfectly ironed, and perfectly fitted. I thanked him, as we finished our butts and I shut the engine down. He thanked me then walked around and opened my door, shut it behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. I could feel him press himself into my back as I leaned into him. His smell, Gucci Envy, was intoxicating. I could feel his breath on my neck, it was warm, it gave me goosebumps while sending chills down my spine. And suddenly, I was on fire, despite how cold it seemed outside earlier. He spun me around, I was biting my lower lip, and we stared at each other for a split-second before we both went in for a kiss. And, Oh My, was it a kiss. It was hot, and I could tell we were both craving more. Hands were acquisitive, tongues were commandeering. I pulled back for a second, but he pulled me back in. And, that’s exactly where I wanted to be. Until I realized I was way late to relieve Marina. I tried to catch my breath, as he used his fingers to delicately fix my smudged lipstick and mouthed “I want you”. If he only knew…Gawsh!!

We adjusted ourselves, and held hands walking back in. Before I rushed up to the second floor he pulled me back in, close, and whispered in my ear, “To be continued”. The look in my eyes had to say, “How about now?”, because that’s exactly what I was thinking, feeling, hoping…

Marina was a pretty girl, with long brown hair that shone almost mahogany in the dusky light. She had a big smile, and was big boned, with big top assets which almost popped the buttons off her black cardigan that she wore over her black cocktail dress. I believe she’s going to Georgian Court for social work, so she only worked a night or two each week. Her husband would usually pick her up from work, and they’d have a drink after her shift was done. I waved to him as he approached the bar. Marina gave me the lowdown on how the night had gone like she always did which I appreciated. Like a nurse giving the shift report. Many of the patrons were regulars, smoking their cigars and chatting amongst one another. I hadn’t met a customer I didn’t like, and I normally enjoyed my shifts at the club.

Business started to pick up after Mari clocked out, and I put my head down and got into the groove, feeling dileriously delightful & furiously free-spirited. Straight-up Invincible. Sister Morphine was playing on the customer run stereo, and I turned it up a notch. Gotta love the Stones. For the next few hours I caught up with the members, listened to what’s new in their lives, gave advice, took some…you know, typical bartender banter. I’d lost track of time when I saw a dude coming towards the bar. I put the washcloth down that I was cleaning glasses with, dried my hands with a towel, grabbed a cocktail napkin and waited for him to find a spot. As he pulled back his chair I immediately recognized the mystery guest, and I grabbed two Heinekens and two shots of chilled Jagermeister. I clinked glasses with Lou, and we downed our shot.

The bar was pretty much empty. It was a little after 1am. We closed up around 2, barring any unforeseen circumstances, and since T wasn’t here tonight (thankfully), all unforeseen seemed nonexistent. I double-checked the few remaining guys, and when they seemed content and needing nothing I walked back to Lou, lit up a smoke, and gave him my attention. He sat at the far corner, away from everyone, alone, head down as he spoke. I had to crouch and lean in to hear him. He looked stressed, he wouldn’t make eye contact as he fidgeted with a pack of matches. He’d downed his heineken, and as I popped the top for him he finally said “Joey got pinched, and he spun a story”. He didn’t have to elaborate, I got it. Joey was a jit. I’d known him since we were in grammar school, and he was a little reckless, a little selfish…that kid who always needed the attention – positive or negative, although if I remember correctly it was usually negative. The spaz. We’ve all known a spaz.

“It’s not just him”, he continued, “My brother told me Casey got popped on some minor shit but gave Me up to save her own ass..and there have been a few other things…I get pulled over today, they search the car”..He ran his hand through his thick black hair, and looked up at me. “I didn’t have anything, obviously, but I don’t need the heat. They told me my brake light was out, which was bullshit. I was on my way to re-up, and I know someone tipped ‘em to it. I asked why the fuck they need to search without a warrant for a light and they say they’ve heard some shit. Fuckin’ aye, City. I said, fucking look then!” He took a drag then quietly continued, “Only the dude I’m upping with and myself should know what I was supposed to do today, and I can’t let him know what went down. And I can’t lose this money.” I let him vent.

Casey was an old head, been around for a minute. She was pretty strung out the last time I saw her – she came into the Atlantic Highlands bar with some sketchy dude, looking to score. I was able to put the pieces together that night by simple observation, and knowing the backstory – Lenny was a regular with a PK problem who sold his adderall for oxys. Case had oxy 80s to spare so long as she could get money for a brick. It’s a win-win. So, she’d give Lenny her oxy’s, get money and addys and use both to get her heroin. She’d ask me if I knew anyone around the bar who might be interested in the orange pills she now was holding, and I’d appease her by saying I’d look around. In all honesty, it wasn’t a good look being seen talking to her in her current state. You took one look at her and knew she was using something, a lot and often. She looked 10 years older than her actual age of 30, a vacancy lingering in her dark brown eyes. I felt for her. Seeming almost ashamed to be asking me yet knowing it couldn’t hurt to ask. And, the quicker she got rid of them the quicker she and her partner could be on her way to what they really wanted.

I snapped out of it and brought my attention back to Lou. Typical bartender/patron scenario playing out here as I let him confide as I tried to be a good shoulder, a good friend. He asked me what I was thinking, and I told him that maybe he should slow-up. The look he gave me signaled that he was perplexed. “What’s your gain?”, I asked. “You’ve got a good job, your family is healthy, you don’t need the money, so why keep risking it?” He cleared his throat and answered, “Because…it’s become almost an addiction.” I chewed on that for a second before asking, “The selling? Or, the using?”. Lou looked at me like I punched him in the gut.

“Well…?” I may be bashful, but I’ve never been accused of holding back my thoughts or feelings. My mother was the Queen of Keeping It Real. Sometimes too real, if there is such a thing. She spoke her mind, asked what she questioned, expressed how she felt. She did it with class, not crass. Her thick accent, that inquisitive look she’d throw your way, hands on the hips of her 5’9 frame. As I stood there, I thought about Ma, and held my ground with Lou as I did.

“The using?! I don’t have a problem! You think I have a problem?!” He pushed himself back from the bar, and pinched the bridge of his nose. With his eyes closed, and his face screwed up he said, “The selling, City. It’s the selling that’s become hard to stop.” I get it, we’re all chasing money, from the cradle to the grave. I mean, shit, who am I to argue about how you make your money? I burn the candle at both ends and then some…for the love of money..(BT&H anyone??). Obviously, I still had a massive amount of growing up to do.

 “Let’s be real, Lou. You’re doing both. And if the ends don’t justify the means..maybe it’s time for a break. Your future, your family’s future..it’s not worth it. Obviously the money is appealing, but the risk doesn’t outway the rewards, and you’re finding out the hard way that sometimes your friends aren’t your friends. And, you know how corrupt the system is dude. The LAST place you wanna be is locked up. Once they’re on your scent…they don’t relent.” I waved goodnight to the last two men standing, collected their bottles, glasses, my tips and let Lou consider my thoughts on the matter.

When I had finished wiping down the bar and the last glass was clean and dry, I walked back over to see what he was thinking. He was staring at the lacquer finished bar top, peeling the label of his heineken. I grabbed us two more, popped the top, and was on my way around to grab the empty seat next to him. He must have been deep in thought because my pulling the stool back seemed to startle him. He apologized, I asked for what. “For dropping this bullshit on your doorstep.” was his response. I put my arm around him, and he nestled himself in the crook of it while laying his head on my shoulder. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I squeezed his hand and told him, “That’s what friends are for. I care about you, I worry, and I don’t want to be having this conversation on borrowed phone minutes. You don’t wanna end up in County, or Damiano’s. Just think about it.” From the corner of my eye a shadow appeared to the right at the top of the stairs. Stealth. Lou didn’t flinch, and before I could crane my neck to see who it was they were gone. Hmm…probably someone seeing if I was closing up. I looked at the clock behind the bar. 2:19am. I was pretty much ready to close up shop here. Lou picked his head up off my shoulder and reached for his phone which was loudly vibrating on the bar. He answered. 

I got up and walked back around the bar, counted my drawer, checked my receipts, and collected my tips from the glasses I kept them in under the bar. I wanted another beer, and could feel a little hunger creeping in. Lou hung up the phone. I nodded my head ‘what’s up’ as I counted and he told me he was taking my advice. “With what?” I asked. “I’m gonna back off a bit. I need some time. A break. Whatever. I’m just good on it all right now. It’s too much stress, anxiety. I have enough shit to get me through, and some other things to help if shit gets tough, but I’m not going back to either when it’s done.” I smiled, grabbed my bag from the shelf and walked over to his seat. We hugged. “So whattaya say City, you wanna hang? Let’s grab some beer and chill.” My texts from earlier said I was off the hook for work tomorrow day- boss was still away and she didn’t have anything planned in advance. I wasn’t in Atlantic Highlands until 9pm tomorrow. “Let me grab a 12 pack and whatever food they got leftover downstairs, and I’ll meet you in my parking lot in 20,” I responded. My place was closer. “Let me throw in,” he offered and started to grab for his wallet. I shook my head. “It’s all good, I always get grub when I’m done. Just drive safe, and if you can pick me up a pack of ‘ports when you stop to get yours I’d appreciate that.” He smiled, “Done and Done. See you in 20.” I grabbed a 12 pack of heineken, a pint of Jagermeister, put the cash into the drawer, hit the lights and we both walked down the stairs.

As he walked out the front I headed toward the back. I saw Chef Danny and he smiled and waved me into the kitchen. “Hey beautiful, where’s my hug?” He opened his arms, a whisk in one hand, and embraced me with warmth. He’d been their head chef for 11 years. He was a big and tall man, with dark hair, a cropped beard, a hearty laugh, and twinkling brown eyes. Originally from Long Island, Danny had a thick accent. He worked hard, and always seemed to be manning the kitchen. He loved to cook, loved to feed people, and had seven little mouths to feed at home which was probably why he had to work as often as he did. His wife had died last summer, tragically killed in a car accident, hit by a careless drunk driver. My heart broke for him. He immersed himself in work and raising the kids. He was the head coach for his 3 sons’ baseball team, and participated in coaching on some level for his girls’ softball teams. I think he also coached his youngest girls in gymnastics. I admired him. “I got your boxes all set, chicken parm and chicken francese with penne vodka and broccoli rabe. Your favorite.” I was speechless! I was verklempt. “Are you kidding me, Dan? You didn’t have to do that! Oh my goodness!” People are good. What a wonderfully nice gesture from a wonderfully nice man. When he was working, which was usually the lunch and dinner rush, he did nice things for the people he worked with. I worked once or twice a week night, and he made up little boxes of sandwiches and such with my name on it and left it in the kitchen. He rarely worked this late. Any other night, I would usually scrounge leftovers, and make up a plate of whatever we had around to take home. “I cannot thank you enough!” I smiled huge. “Just seeing that smile on your face, I know how much you appreciate it!” He smiled back and handed me a brown bag of hot food. “Now go enjoy your food, you deserve it kiddo. Tell your pops I said hello, huh.” I told him I will, I thanked him again, I put on my jacket and headed out the back door.

It was still chilly. I started the firebird, lit a smoke and cursed myself for ruining the smell of that incredible food with the disgusting cigarette. Vices. For a moment I caught the faint scent of Gucci Envy. My lighter. It instantly evoked a rush of excitement that traveled instantly to my…parts. I meant to say goodnight, and normally he comes upstairs and has a drink before I shut it down. Must have been busy downstairs tonight. I was one red light away from my complex. As I pulled in I saw my neighbors to the right crowding their balcony with friends and what looked like balloons and birthday decorations. Young couple – fought a lot. The walls were thin. At least tonight all seemed well. I chirped my lock with my bag, food, beer, and keys in hand. I sent up a wave and some handsome looking guy in a backwards hat with blonde hair flying free from underneath yelled down asking if I needed help carrying everything up the stairs. How Polite. From behind me a male voice replied back, “Thanks anyway, but I got her.” Before I could turn around I felt the weight lessen, the bags were grabbed, and Lou asked for my keys. I smiled, handed them over, and thanked him. “How long were you waiting?” I asked. “Just pulled up” he smirked. As we walked to the stairs, I noticed that Dre’s car wasn’t in the lot. He had called when I was at work but he didn’t leave a message. As we walked the floor to get to my door we passed two kids from the neighbors party smoking ciggys, crouched, locked in conversation. They raised their heads as we passed and one stood up.

“Stella?”

I stopped, surprised, and turned around. It was Jimmy, one of my brother’s good friends, and someone I had grown up around. My dad had taken him hunting, taught him responsible gun handling, treated him (and all of our good friends, really) like one of his own. A good kid. He came in for the hug and I one armed it (my other arm was full). I couldn’t see his pupils, and he had those light, light Irish blue eyes. I knew he’d gotten into opiates, per the grapevine. To my surprise he asked me what I was doing with Lou, seemingly aggravated by his presence. “You know each other?” Jimmy was f’ed up. He could hardly stand upright, hence the crouching, and he was slurring a little. “That’s my boy,” I explained. “What the fuck is it to you, Barkley?” asked Lou, obviously pissed and in his face now. I didn’t need things to go to blows, so I stepped in.

“Don’t disrespect my spot. I got neighbors. Everything is good, Jimmy, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. But, have a good night.” I unlocked my door, ushered Lou in while Jimmy begged me to talk to him. “Another time, Jim” I promised and shut the door, locked it, pulled the blind down, and let out a sigh.

“What the fuck?” I asked as I walked into my room. I collapsed backward on my bed and took a second to rub my temples. Lou appeared with a popped brew and apprehension. I grabbed the beer and took a long swig. “I’m gonna shower, make yourself at home.” I said as I propped myself back up on my elbow. He handed me two blues, as if he were handing me a peace offering. I accepted and looked up at him. “You got a card?” He pulled his wallet out and handed me his Wells Fargo debit card. I crushed the pills, made two lines and quickly devoured them. I let the drip hit my throat. It’s almost chemical in taste, yet incredibly soothing. He read my mind as he handed me a smoke. I lit it and enjoyed every drag. There is just something about snorting something and smoking. The cigarette tastes good, believe it or not. Within 15 minutes I was feeling freakin’ fabulous. Recharged and congenial. I had showered, changed into a tank, yoga pants, and threw my hair into a pony, and as I walked back into the room Lou looked up and said, “Yo fam, I got a Tenderoni girl”. Lost Boys’ Renee? Nice touch!

Smiling broadly, excitable & aware, floating off the floor until I dropped into my spot on the couch. Damn those blues. There was a shot poured, an open beer, and a white line on my coffee table. Lou sat on the couch behind it with his socked feet on my ottoman. He had the same set-up for himself on the right side of the table. With little hesitation the shot was grabbed, we clinked glasses and down the hatch we sent it. I watched our fingerprints melt the frost on the shot glass.

He picked up his beer and lifted it in traditional “I’m about to make a cheers speech”. I grabbed mine and gave him my full attention. “To making mistakes, trying to learn from them, bartenders turned therapists, and knowing who your true friends are.” We both laughed, tapped bottle necks, sang “cheers” in unison, and took a swig. Lou was a bartender also, and I know he’s held his fair share of therapy sessions. It’s what you do. “Remember the first time we hung out? That group Yankee game we all went to. By the end of the night we were thick as thieves, ready to fight everyone on the subway who talked shit about the yanks.” I chimed in, laughing, with “Who talked shit about anything!”

“Cheers to that” he stated as he smiled excitedly with his beer in hand. I told him to pick something from the tower for us to listen to. While he did that I poured another chilled shot, refilled our empty bottles and reminded him to help himself to the open styrofoam containers of food, still warm, that I opened and placed on the kitchen counter.

I could hear the sounds of Ready to Die slowly getting louder as Lou tried to find a balance between loud and not pissing the neighbors off. He’d taken this opportunity to refill our coffee table goods. I handed him the drinks, he handed me the rolled up bill. We spent the next 4 hours expressing, conversing, finding more out about each other, talking family, solving problems, asking questions, listening, advising, revealing, relaxing, amused, intoxicated, entertaining, captivated, boisterous, emotional, and becoming closer friends because of all of it. Around 8am we both settled in and slept for the next seven hours, blissfully ignoring doorbells and cellphones. I slept on the pull-out, he slept on the couch. He got up a little before I decided to, got his things together, kissed my forehead, thanked me, and left a note and a small care package – “for hangover relief” the note said. I had a great night, with a great friend. And, since work wasn’t for a few hours I decided to keep sleeping.