?You want another??

My head was down on the bar already. How could this guy think I could possibly need another? There must be some pretty serious drinkers in Baltimore if this guy thought I needed more.

Looks like I was going to like this place.

?Hey kid! You want another?? I could picture the bartender's round, greasy face even though I wasn't able to lift my head.

?I'm good boss.? I said, speaking down into the counter. No need for another puke fest just yet. It was only 9 a.m..

The first job I found on this latest jaunt to the east coast was working security on the graveyard shift at one of the few privately owned ports still in the area. It seemed fitting at the time, or so I'd thought. Even at 21 I thought I was following in my father's footsteps. It wouldn't be too much longer before I was offered the family ?business? and discovered otherwise.

It was my post work ritual. Walk down the street to this hole in the wall and start my daily routine. Chivas Regal chased with Dos Equis. Eventually everything would feel normal again.

?Well if ya ain't gonna have another then tell your story walking, kid.?

I took in a deep breath. ?Sure, s'no problem boss. Jus' gimme a second here.? I posted up on the bar with my palms, tensed my arms and shoulders, and gave a mighty push. I managed to get up off my stool and onto my feet. The floor had become tumultuous while I was sitting on that stool drinking. I still don't know how I managed to take a cigarette out and light it. Another wave almost knocked me off my feet but I caught myself on the door and stepped out.

The sidewalk was no different from the floor inside the bar. The sweet rush of smoke filling my lungs did nothing to settle the gathering tempest beneath my feet. In fact, it only made it worse. Cars were rushing by on the 2, laying on theirs horn whenever my feet swayed into the street and almost in their path.

I saw the bus I usually took to the flea infested, roach motel I was currently calling home finish loading its passenger. The driver was getting ready to leave without me. No problem, I thought, I'll just step in front of him and get him to stop. I went to take a step but the asphalt rolled and knocked the cigarette from my hand. I bent to pick it up and heard the hiss of the air-brake being released too late to react. A hand grabbed my trench coat and tugged so hard I nearly fell over. I stumbled but was pulled out of the bus' path and onto the sidewalk again.

When the world stopped spinning I saw that my hero was wearing orthopedic shoes and brown pants with a fine, pressed crease up each pant leg. My gaze lifted and I saw suspenders, a white work shirt, and a weathered face. The old man had a twinkle in each one of his blue eyes, a bad, graying combover, and kindly smile that seemed to never leave his face.

I swore he looked familiar.

?You should look before you go out into street son.? He said without sounding like he was actually scolding me. He helped me stand and dusted me off.

I looked back into the street defeated. ?He ran over my cigarette.? I said with a huff of disappointment. I hadn't even gotten more than two or three puffs!

?Well, better the cigarette then you right?? This guy was Captain Friggin Obvious. But he saved my butt, so I stopped myself from responding with one of my patented witty retorts.

?Yeah. Hey, thanks fer that boss.? I jerked my thumb back to the street where he had pulled me out of harms way. ?Back there.?

?Just doin' what I can to help out. Are you headin' anywhere? Home, perhaps?? He wasn't asking more than he was suggesting. It was a good idea to get this drunk off the street before he could hurt himself or anyone else.

?Yeah, home. Sounds like a good idea.? I was drunk enough to get some sleep and only have a slight hangover before I started up again in the afternoon. It was my day off after all. I'd need an early start if I wanted any sleep.

?Haveta wait for the next bus now, ya know?? I took out a cigarette and lit it deliberately. My dexterity wasn't too good in this condition. I walked towards the stop and got ready to take a seat on the bench. ?Thanks again boss.?

?No problem son. Be careful.? He took a brown fedora out from under his arm and used it to cover his bad comb over.

I was too focused on getting the full enjoyment out of my cigarette to notice that my rescuer hadn't gone too far down the street before he stopped and started watching me again.

There was no evidence that she'd ever been here the night before.

I felt a little brain dead and still tired although I probably had been running the Sleep Marathon. The clock read 7:37. I had drawn the curtains right before the last hit we took faded, so I couldn't tell if it was A.M. or P.M.. We had both crashed hard. Apparently she didn't crash hard enough to stay until after I woke up. It shouldn't have bothered me.

But it did.

The sex was almost worth this braindead feeling. As was the infallibility we'd shared over cigarettes.

"This isn't exactly the place you come to 'make it'."

Her words were clear as day to me now, though I had thought I had been too geeked to remember by this point.

"It's usually the place you come to as a last resort. Unless you've got business here. Or are affiliated with the schools."

Johns Hopkins, U. of Maryland, along with the Naval Academy not too far down the way in Annapolis. Amongst others I could have listed close-by. There'd been many a time mom had hoped I'd have attended any of those three. That was before she found out what my father did. Who he was. And what that meant for me.

And before she injected the life of a loner into my veins.

"So the way I see it..." Her fingers were delicate around the filter, and she took a long, deliberate drag. "..that leather duster. The jeans that look like they've seen a lot of wear. The boots too. You're trying to set up the perfect ambiance with this room, huh?"

I hoped I was never this talkative or annoying when I was as big into this drug. A lot of people used it as an excuse to enjoy themselves socially or do things they wouldn't normally do otherwise. The others were addicts.

Like her.

Like me.

But she did have me pegged. I hadn't met many skirts on my crazy trek through the country that could.

I was surprised to find the remote nearby. I turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels. An old Rock Hudson movie was on and I decided to watch. Now here was a guy who had everyone fooled his entire life.

I almost envied him.

Trust me. Being tall, dark, and handsome wasn't the only thing I had going for me. Playing the role of the mysterious stranger in town always helped too. I could quench my insatiable loneliness with a smile or a wink.

Here? The tall, dark, and handsome stranger was just another face in the crowd. I only came to the cities when I wanted to be alone. So what was in her aqua gaze that was holding onto me even now?

I wouldn't even try to place it.

There was only one way to cure a hangover like this. I decided to get out of bed regardless of how drained I felt.

I showered for what probably was almost a full hour. I didn't bother to shave or even check my reflection before I left. I couldn't stand to look at that despicable face right now.

I was caught somewhere between suburbia and hopelessness. Otherwise known as Glen Burnie, Maryland. Luckily enough there were a few dives on the 2 that I could walk to before I hit the city of Baltimore proper. I chose my most recent favorite and found a surprise as soon as I walked in the door.

A group of morbidly obese pigs always took the booth and tables by the corner. Their accents painted them as the mobsters they hoped to emulate from the movies. Most of them were just straight trash that didn't know how to operate under wraps. Low level hoods working an even lower level circuit. One of the more porcine ones was trying to do his best Pesci.

"I'ma tell you somethin' honey. You don't get my money fa me, I'ma have my boys take it out on yer sweet lil' ass. Ya hear me?" He laughed in way that sounded like a cackle. "Right boys?" The other patrons were too busy to pay attention. I didn't mean to get involved. I just had the unfortunate luck to walk right in on it. He was pushing a tall, attractive blond around.

It was her.

The Harbor had been ruined a long time ago. Instead of the industrial ports that populated it not too long ago the city decided to re-purpose the district into Baltimore's tourist attraction. I came here when I wanted the street performers and drunk vacationers to entertain me.

I was so far form home.

I always had been.

She was beautiful in a tragically cliche way. Stunning, intelligent, perceptive, wise, and good in bed. It was a combination of things that were deadly to my better senses. A few days had passed since that fateful night and we had done a wonderful job of laying low.

In bed.

I was surprised how easily she understood that I needed to come up for air. We hadn't heard a peep from fat Pesci or his bumbling band of bad stereotypes, but she wasn't comfortable enough to be out in public yet. She knew that I was the type that couldn't stay inside for longer than was needed to sleep. I'd purposely chosen a job that fit that compulsion.

Pulling graveyard shift at an industrial port wasn't exactly anyone's idea of a dream job. But I got to smoke as much as I wanted. And when the sun decided to stop hiding beneath the bay, I had a perfect view between the shipping containers that were my charge.

I stepped to the edge of the concrete that bordered the murky waters beneath. With all the crap they dumped in it over the years, I wouldn't dare flick my ashes into the gently lapping waves without risk of causing an inferno. Dusky cheeks, black hair, and deeply recessed eyes of near coal stared back up at me. It didn't seem to bother me as much this time around.

A hot-dog vendor had closed up shop for the night and was rolling his squeaky cart past me. I turned in just enough time to catch him out of the corner of my eye. All that I saw was a hook nose and a large smile staring back at me.

?Hello my frien.'?

I turned from the waters and decided to let my ashes fall to the ugly concrete. ?Sup Raj??

?Nothing much my frien'. How is up for you?? Raj's accent was a thick Hindi. He probably hadn't been here much longer than a year before the landscape of the U.S. changed towards guys that looked like him and me. Much worse for him since I never had an accent. Most people just mistook me for a Latino born in the U.S..

He stopped his cart and pulled a hot dog out from the water it had been floating in all day, placed it between a bun, and added a few condiments. ?Chili, cheese, hots, mustard and ketchup.? He handed it over to me, repeating the way I liked them. I reached for my wallet and he shook me off. ?No, free for you my frien'. It's free.?

In the beginning of the summer I'd shown a few jerks the same courtesies I'd shown Blimpy. It'd almost been a year since, but for some reason people thought that tragedy gave them the excuse to act like assholes towards people who had absolutely nothing in common with those that were actually to blame. How that act had anything to do with a guy who came to this country trying to earn an honest living selling hot dogs in the sweltering Chesapeake Bay summer sun was beyond my abilities of rational thought. But the ignorant needed someone to blame, and a few guys had thought they'd get free hot dogs out of harassing this poor guy. I'd shown them just how much I despised the impolite with the same Tyson-esque move I'd used on Blimpy. Ever since, Raj gave me a free hot dog with all my favorite fixin's every time he saw me.

I hadn't realized how long I had been running on empty. Cigarettes and cocaine had a habit of making you forget just how hungry you really were. Before I could protest I was taking a hungry bite and swallowing. ?Thanks Raj. How's business??

?Business good my frien'. Summer bring many hungry people to harbor. I make profit.? He was grinning wider now. I didn't doubt that those guys weren't the first to bother him. In the years to come they wouldn't be the last.

?That's great. How's the family??

Raj didn't answer but took out a picture of a boy with a wide, white smile, caramel skin and black hair standing next to a dark woman wearing the traditional colorful Sari. I nodded around another bite of my hot dog. ?Getting big now huh??

Raj nodded with a proud smile. I was too busy chomping down on my hot dog to be much good at conversation. Raj laughed. ?You hungry my frien'. Eat. Eat!? Raj encouraged with a few gestures. It wasn't long before I was finished. ?You have family my frien'??

My eyes narrowed and I looked at him again. He was trying to be friendly. I wasn't going to return the favor with a witty quip he wouldn't understand. ?Yeah, I got a mom and dad.?

He shook his head and gestured to the picture. ?No! Family!? He pointed again to his son and turned it around to me. ?See? Family.?

I shook my head quickly. ?No. Not that kinda family. I'm not the family type.?

Raj shook his head with a laugh and hung the tongs he'd used to make my hot dog back on his cart. He lifted it at the handles and began to push it back in the direction he was traveling before.

?You change mind frien.' You meet girl and change mind. You see.?

It was Monday, and the start to my weekend.

When you work the kind of jobs I do, working Saturday and Sunday always pays a lot better than not. When you live the way that I do, making any two days that you had off in a row the ?weekend? wasn?t exactly difficult.

I knew she would still be there when I got back to my room. But I was still surprised to see her. I hadn?t asked her about the conversation she?d had with her father the morning before. I didn?t want her to know that I had heard it. I didn?t want her to know that I had walked out after being faced with the reality that our days were numbered.

I didn?t want her to know I cared.

The only thing that was helping her withdrawals was sleep. And she got that in spades. She was asleep most times I came home from work; as was the rest of the sane, normal world. But yesterday she never woke or left the bed while I slept. Most days she watched TV and waited for me to wake up, moving around the room to use the bathroom or have a smoke. Now that she was in the throes of cocaine deprivation, her body decided to catch up on all the sleep she?d missed while she was geeked.

I sat at the table and decided to have my goodnight cigarette. I pulled the sweet poisonous smoke through the depths of my lungs and exhaled. Maybe if I sat here long enough, just watching her sleep, it would feel like we?d spent more time together. Maybe I could slow the world down if I just didn?t fall asleep.

It sounded like a good idea.

An hour and many cigarettes later I decided I?d just sit up in bed watching TV. My eyes sporadically left the screen to watch her like she would disappear if I looked away for too long. That plan didn?t last too long. Before I knew it two small hands were helping me shirk down in the bed and rest my head against my pillows. I tried to resist, tried to stir myself, but my best efforts at opening my eyes were met by the comfort of the mattress and my exhaustion.

When I woke up she was sitting at the table, her knees pulled into her chest and my t-shirt. She was stretching it out. I didn?t care. She held a cigarette in one of her hands. I sat down across from her and lit one for myself.

?My dad?s coming to pick me up tomorrow.?

I nodded, hoping she wouldn?t see that I was bearing down on my bottom lip with my incisor, or notice the look on my face that probably betrayed everything I was feeling.

?He?s going to bring me back to New York. I?m going to this place in Connecticut called Silver Hill.?

I?d heard of it before when I?d spent a few months in Port Chester, NY. The suburbs of New York City that were still in the state were failed industrial areas, ransacked and sucked dry by the industrial revolution long ago. Right up the road in Connecticut was where the upper echelon had decided to flee to when the minorities started living in their city. I?d heard stories about Silver Hill. Wicker chairs and oriental rugs. A luxury mental and addiction rehabilitation facility that was more comfortable than most 5-star hotels. It was where Billy Joel spent most of the time he should have been in jail after collecting another DUI. It was where Mariah Carey went when she had her first nervous break down.

These people even hid their dirty little secrets and addictions in a different world than the rest of us.

I took in a long drag. ?Sounds like you hit the jackpot a rehabs doll.? I flicked ashes into the tray in the center of the table. ?I?m almost tempted to join ya just ta get outta this rat hole.? Humor always diffused uncomfortable situations well. Sarcasm worked even better.

She stared off into the distance, leagues, probably miles away from where we both were. ?I?ll be out by August. But dad wants me to spend the rest of the summer up there until school starts.?

I nodded again, choosing to take a long drag on my cigarette rather than talk about her impending departure tomorrow.

I stood up and started to put my clothes on again, completing my look with my black leather boots.

She looked up at me, tears hovering in her eyes somewhere between beautiful and breath-taking. ?Where are you going??

?Well, I figure we gotta celebrate our last night together with a little all night fun. On me.?

She didn?t object.

We were up all night one last time, saying goodbye in a tangle of bodies and white powder.

I freshened up and got ready, donning my jeans, a t-shirt, and leather boots. I tucked both envelopes into my pocket. Maybe if I offered them double they could see past the fact that I'd most likely broken Blimpy's glass jaw.

I was being uncharacteristically hopeful for a guy who had just received a ?Dear Jo? letter. I even whistled a tune as I walked. Whistle While You Work. It was fitting.

The same tender was there, serving up drinks to the scattered few who actually came to drown their sorrow in more. Fat Pesci and his crew had moved to the opposite corner booth by the door. It looked like they had added one more to the original foursome. I took in a deep breath and pushed the door open and walked nonchalantly to the bar. The tender took one look at me and shook his head. ?Yer not welcome here.? He snarled. ?But ya got some bidness to settle.? He tipped his chin in the direction of the mobsters. They were consulting while they shot me furtive looks, speaking in whispers I couldn't hear over the rickety jukebox.

I nodded and took in a deep breath. I had nothing to lose right?

?Gentleman, it's good to see you again.? I gave a nod to Fat Pesci and the other guys I recognized. Blimpy was there, but it didn't seem like he was talking. That and the fact that his jaw was swollen most likely meant it had been wired shut to heal. I admired my handiwork only for a moment before the newcomer at the head of the corner booth gestured to the cushioned seats.

?Sit.? It was the only thing he said. He had sparse hair on top of his head. The remainder was arranged at the base. Thick glasses didn't do much to conceal a hooked nose.

I figured it'd be safer to sit than not. The other two, who remained nameless, reached under the table, most likely fingering guns that they kept secured under their waistbands. Fat Pesci turned to the man at the head of the table and spoke in his awful, stereotypical accent. ?That's him boss. The wetback kid we told ya about.?

I seemed to be alone at my end of the semi-circle shaped booth. But I didn't care. The farther away I was the more likely it was I could escape.

?So I heard you got a heck of a right hook kid.? The way he studied me unnerved me. .

?You could say that. I only really use it when I need to. Listen, I didn't come here to talk boxing technique. I have business to settle for a friend of mine. Now I don't know if you like to handle it out here in the open or somewhere more private, but I've everything that was owed, and then some if we can just forget the incident that happened the other night.?

Fat Pesci and his boss shared a few glances. There were whispers between them and the other nameless two. Slowly they began to shuffle out of the booth. The man with the hooked nose tipped his head to a door that read ?Employees Only? at the back of the bar. I got up and followed him. The rest of his goons sat back down together.

On the other side was another goomba watching an old set that was probably never capable of color. The O's were playing and he looked to be too concerned with the score to care about what was going on. The Bossman walked over to a pool table at the center of the room and picked up a cue. I should have known that this place was a mob front the day I walked into it.

?My boys tell me they've seen you before but they don't know your name. In fact no one does. You're a ghost. I don't like ghosts in my bar kid. I can tell you that.?

?Yeah, ya know, I'm not too fond of them either.? I pulled the blank envelope out from my pocket and tossed it onto the pool table. ?The money's all there.?

He walked over and opened the envelope, leafing through the hundred dollar bills slowly, making sure it was all accounted for. ?Not many kids your age have the guts to do what you did the other night.? He tucked the envelope away in his back pocket and rolled the cue on the pool table, checking to see if it was warped. He picked it back up again and placed the butt end down on the floor. ?But it don't seem like you got much to lose huh? Tell me, your rich girlfriend get the money from her rich parents??

I couldn't slow the beat of my heart if I wanted to. The transaction was finished. There was no reason for him to be keeping me here. ?Listen, the debt's all settled. Let's leave her out of this. She's not my girlfriend. I just don't know when to keep my nose out of the business of pretty women. It's one of my flaws.?

?A fatal flaw. Ya know kid, women are bad news. That one you took up for? Probably one of the worst addicts we've ever seen. You don't think she's been paying us handsomely for a while now? A girl like that's got access to cash in spades. Why do you think she ended up running such a big tab??

He was right. ?Yer absolutely right boss. Bad news for sure. Listen, I gotta get going. I work early in the morning.? The occasional glances from the goon sitting at the TV were making me nervous. The Bossman's spiel wasn't comforting me any either. I started backing towards the door.

?You never told me your name kid.? He was getting closer to me.

When I reached for the handle and turned it, I found the door barred by some unmovable object. The greasy smell coming from the other side of the door most likely meant that object was Blimpy.

?I don't like ghosts kid. There ain't no one in this town I don't know anything about. Yet here you were drinkin' in my bar for months, and I got nothing on you.?

?It's Joe. Joe..? The goon wasn't sitting at the TV anymore. He had gotten up and was walking my way too. He managed to grab a hold of my arm in his meaty grip and turned me around. He was a lot quicker than Blimpy. Probably twice as strong. I struggled but I couldn't get free.

?I don't like lying ghosts. Drew at the bar told me he heard you say it to your girlfriend a couple times. He said it was some camel jockey name.?

The goon had my face up against the wall. I struggled but was barely able to move.

WHACK!

Pain exploded behind my eyes. Something solid and thin had hit me behind my legs. Bossman hadn't put the pool cue down when he made his approach.

WHACK!

I wouldn't give them the dignity of crying out, but that was the broad end, against the back of my rib cage. The stabbing pain all through my side meant that he'd broken at least one of my ribs.

WHACK!

This one hit the back of my head, and although I'd been hit plenty of times in that spot, it still left me dazed. The goon subduing me let me stumble away from the wall just enough so he could push my back against it.

WHACK!

The broad end of the cue cracked and splintered against my face. I fell to my knees.

WHACK!

Consciousness began to float out of my grasp and every breath was agony. The goon picked me up and held my head up so I could look at his boss. I spit one of my teeth out and onto the floor. I could taste copper, strong in my mouth, and warm liquid began to flow down my chin.

The Strongest Goon in the World held me up so that my feet didn't touch the ground. I began to laugh, spitting blood out with every chuckle.

?Get this psycho out of my fucking sight.?

The goon took me to the back door and tossed me out into the alley. He stood in the doorway with his boss.

?You're nothing but a ghost to me kid. Don't you ever forget that.?

The door closed.

Somewhere in the distance sirens wailed.

They weren't for me.

My cigarette burned slow while the wind blew melodies through the chimes on the porch.

What the &*$# was I doing here?

The ribs that had been broken had healed eventually. It had taken about a month or two, but I could finally breathe without any pain. Before I could even schedule a follow up appointment I?d packed my sh** up and left Baltimore. There was no use in tempting fate any more than I already had. The Bronco was a beast to this day and had taken me right over the GWB without any trouble. I watched the sun set, painting colors across the City?s horizon, smoking cig after cig while I was stuck waiting to pay the toll to cross the bridge.

About a month had passed in over priced roach motels before I was taken in by my sponsor. He was a retiree who had once been some important executive in one of the various corporations that called this area home. A holy roller who battled alcoholism decades ago, and decided that taking me into his empty home was better than where I had been staying. He wanted to make sure I stayed away from those places, since they were normally associated with the not so pretty side of this area. The only people who stayed there were dealers, pimps, hookers and the occasional down on his luck drifter.

I was going to the meetings again. Working the steps.

But why the &*$# was I in Connecticut, just a stone?s throw away from New York City?

It was a question I didn?t want the answer to.

Fall was coming fast now. Every last hint of summer was almost gone. The leaves hadn?t changed just yet. But the breeze that made the chimes toll had a bite that I could feel.

It was a foreign thing now. Feeling. I?d spent the past month abusing the prescription I?d gotten when I was discharged until the pills no longer worked. When the pills stopped whiskey normally did the job pretty well.

But now?

I was sober. And I couldn?t stand what came with it. That self loathing I got whenever I started to actually feel again. Mr. Lowenthal was an angel that I didn?t deserve. The room he gave me had been his son?s. Another father figure, to fill the inherent lack thereof in my life.

She was here somewhere. Hidden behind rolling hills and untouched suburbia covered beneath dense thickets that the elite kept preserved to hide their expansive New England homes and uncomplicated but not-so-simple lifestyles. Working through her demons while a bright future lay just across the horizon. Me? All I had was the next town and another poor sap like Old Man Lowenthal to use up before I decided I?d been in one place too long.

The wind stirred again, and the resulting notes sounded ominous.

What the &*%# did I hope to accomplish by being here? Did I think by some strange twist of fate I?d run into her? That now that things had changed and I?d made conscious efforts to get clean she would have any interest in me?

I?d spent that first week just trying to forget her. But I had a constant reminder every time I decided to take a breath. Snort, eat, swallow, inject. The pills they gave me weren?t helping . Even when I decided to add a deluge of booze on top of them. All I could do was wake up and miss her. When I finally managed to pass out in a drunken stupor, my whiskey induced dreams were always about nothing else.

What the &*%# was I doing here?

Ha.

I wish I could forget.

The sky was gray over the King?s Inn.

No, scratch that.

The whole world was gray. The Inn itself. The sky. LaGuardia, which was literally just outside our window. Strange thing about this area, fall fell with buckets of cold rain. My trench coat was pretty much useless in this weather.

?So, Mr. Nagadari..? There were times I hated the digital quality of that voice whenever my fingers fumbled on the touch tone pad and found her number again.

?I?m coming home for Thanksgiving. And it seems like you?re still in the area. I say I blow the pomp and circumstance of another Thanksgiving in the Hamptons and we have ourselves a little rendezvous. How does that sound??

I tried not to jump through the receiver, took another nervous drag on my cigarette, and exhaled purposefully. So she could hear.

?I?d like that doll.?

?Good, my flight comes in on Wednesday at LaGuardia. 7 at night. Don?t be late.?

I wasn?t.

I hadn?t been clean. Not even close to it. And sure, I had an apartment, but the funny thing about addiction was that you never relapsed in your safe zone. In your home. So each time you decided a bender was the best way to ruin your life again you had to make sure it was somewhere the energy wasn?t supposed to be clean.

I couldn?t tell which one of us was the leper and which one the healer this time. It felt strange. Bruised and battered, I was on the amateur circuit again. Working out at a gym where my manager didn?t charge me dues so long as I fought for him. There was a cut over my eye from sparring. But it didn?t hurt as much when she touched it. When she pushed her lips onto it. Neither did the bruises over my torso she isolated with fingertips that had never seen a hard days work.

Caught in a haze of white passion, she smoothed her hands down the steep incline my traps made to my neck. ?You say your family comes from the Middle East.? Her voice was low and private. ?Yet people from those countries are thin and wiry. Not broad like this.?

It was a long time before I?d be tired again. I turned away from the episode of Law and Order I was watching to offer her a drag. ?My great- grandfather used to wrestle in front of the Shah. When there was a Shah. And his family used to own a quarry. So he was a stone mason by trade.?

?Why Mr. Nagadari.? She didn?t need to try to make her voice ooze sex appeal. It was something that came natural to her at this point. And idiots like me ate it up. ?When you talk like that it makes me think there?s much more to you than just this.? She squeezed my shoulders and raked her nails hard against my pecs.

My body didn?t want to comply this time. Coke or no coke. Maybe because it was her last night in town. Maybe because I was going to miss her a lot more than I let on.

Maybe because I knew I would always come in second to her monkey.

The sun still wasn?t out and neither of us had slept. The black hole that was LaGuardia loomed ominous in front of us. We were stuck in traffic. We hadn't spoken a word to each other since last night. The volume of my stereo turned down suddenly. I looked over. Her finger was on the button.

?You?re in love with me, aren?t you??

?Yeah. But I?m trying to fix that.?

I went home and drank myself into oblivion.

My phone rang. I didn't know if it was still the same day or the next, but it was dark outside. "Hi." Her optimistic voice made itself apparent on the other end. "I'm coming out for spring break. Think we can have another rendezvous?"

I pushed the flash button and all I heard was dial tone.

I was getting God damn tired of always winning the silver.

It became a ritual. The sun would start to creep up over the treetops and her shift would end. I started coming to the diner sober. I even picked her up and dropped her off a few times.

I honestly felt sorry for the poor girl.

There wasn?t any work for me here. I still had a decent chunk of change left from Baltimore and New York. But I didn?t need to work again for another few months, as long as I could stay off the blow. I was managing that, but the whites of my eyes were starting to look like hay. And it didn?t help that I knew the liver was the most resilient organ in the human body.

I was doing a great job of hiding from the sun. It was dark again when I woke up. Just like I had planned.

I reached for the phone and dialed.

?Hello??

?What up, ma??

?Jo, is that you? I haven?t heard from you in months! Are you okay? Where are you now??

?I?m okay mom.? I blinked the sleep from my eyes and searched for my pack of smokes in the dark, using the distraction to deftly avoid answering the one question that always made her freak out. Even though she was the one responsible for it, she always hated to find out her son was a nomad.

?How?s the weather in Phoenix??

?You?re not going to tell me are you?? She sighed loud. I could hear the disappointment in that single breath.

?I met someone.?

The next breath I heard through the speaker was a surprised one. This wasn?t a subject I talked about.

Ever.

When it became apparent that I wasn?t going to settle down anywhere it also became obvious that I?d never go to college. What was the next best thing in my mother's mind? Well, it was ?Finding a nice girl and settling down.?

And every time she made the suggestion I laughed and told her she was out of her mind. It was probably why we only talked a few times a year and saw each other only on Christmas.

I was still hung over, but I managed to spark a flame in my Zippo just big enough to light that cigarette. I flicked my wrist and the lighter snapped closed loud enough to make my head throb harder.

?I met someone. And I?m doing my best to *** it up.?

Fast forward.

Just not too far.

I was absolutely done now.

Mr. Self Destruct.

It even said so on my license.

I didn't even bother. A self despising haze was all that followed. It was no longer attractive or cute. It wasn't even sad anymore. Just plain out pathetic. I never passed my reflection without absolutely avoiding it. Not daring to look in the back bar's mirror. Not even in a glass window pane. The Bronco was gone. Sold to pay as many debts to dealers and bartenders as I could. A classic car fan had even paid me a pretty penny for the fact that I had kept her in such amazing condition and all those miles were highway miles on the odometer.

I'd been living out of my suitcase for way too long. Better to settle here in misery. Even some of the locals called it that too, but the others called it Missouri. Endless empty gray skies for days now that the winter had actually hit.

I hadn't bothered to call mom in months again. In fact every call that buzzed my cell went to voicemail. Why did I even bother to keep it charged? When the realization hit me I stopped. I left it on the nightstand of my room. Dead as I would be soon.

Coke was too expensive. Even out here where the cost of living was cheaper than most places in the entire country. It wasn't helping me get any closer to my goal.

But I knew what would. Cheap. Deadly. And delicious.

Beyond that I knew I would drink every last penny away. So when I spent that first terrible day sober I would die from withdrawal seizures. I stopped caring long ago whether or not it would be painful.

In my daily drunken wanderings to find a new ditch I'd managed to explore every inch except this. Another 40 of something that cost less than a dollar, and I chucked that huge bottle aside to shatter on the sidewalk. It was way too early for security to escort me out. The world swirled and churned, frothed and toiled beneath my feet. By some miracle I pulled that first cigarette out and stuck it to my lips. But concentrating on the act had stolen my balance. And I fell face first to the concrete. Combine that with all the alcohol on board and there was nothing more I could do to stay cognizant.

But just before consciousness slipped its way out of my grip I rolled and looked at the building I lay in front of. It looked just like the spectacular monuments in Washington, DC. But the sign read Scottish Rite.

Blood pooled around my head and I could feel it. But it was fate that found me first.

?I gotta tell ya pops. Whatever drugs yer on I'm kinda pissed you decided never ta share with me.?

He knew.

I'm sure he knew something was wrong. Couldn't tell you the last time my mom and dad spoke. Fact I didn't want to know. Possibly more years than I cared to remember. Instead what I remembered vividly was how I persistently blamed myself. She wouldn't tell me what was wrong and why we had to move far away, and often. Panic and grief stricken, I saw her age decades in a few years until I was finally out of the house. Wouldn't tell me why. Just that she was doing whats best for me.

But she took me away from him.

My favorite superhero. Never knew the reason why he chose someone so distinctly different from himself, but it was why my skin would never be as dark as his. Or my face as flat and persistently unreadable. There was a gravity to his words that said he wasn't joking. That said he actually believed them. Should've known better than to ever doubt them. Doubt him.

?Jochin.? Only my dad and grandfather could say my name that well. Me? I could pass for white if I really wanted to sometimes. Just a few shades darker than bronze or olive depending on the season. It was obvious my nose wasn't exactly the picture of All-American. But the rest of my face bordered on at least being a mix. Dad on the other hand, there was never any doubt about his background. I couldn't even use caramel to describe his skin tone. It was a few shades darker.

?Okay pops. Really. I don't think yer here. Benzo withdrawal. I left tha hospital, had another seizure, but because they gave me all those benzos and I didn't take my meds, now I'm having benzo and booze withdrawal. Worst DTs ever.? Stream of consciousness, I tried to rationalize what he had just said, grim, serious, and dark, away.

Sure, the old man wasn't that used to being expressive. But I could see him blink a few times, and hard, when I mentioned what I had just gone through. What I had been through since I dropped out of school. Always wanted to tell him not to blame himself. But young, and dumb, I wasn't just ready yet.

?This isn't the place or the time. I was hoping to have Baba Jarid here too. It took me years just to track you down.? Even his lips barely moved when he spoke.

?Yer kiddin' me right? Turned 18 not that long ago old man. First thing I did when I tore out of the driveway in yer old Bronco was found a place I could call you from. All the phone did was ring.? Quizzical, downright incredulous, I could feel all those swollen folds in my face on fire.

?This job I told you about takes me out of the country often.? Nothing changed in his features. Nothing shifted at all. Interrupted momentarily while the waitress returned with our food. I have no idea why he would choose this chain steak joint, Texas Roadhouse, as the venue for this confession. "I was most likely out of town or overseas." Most likely because his first reaction on our reunion was to say I desperately needed something substantial to eat. I guess things had gotten that bad.

After a few pleasantries, and my not so clumsy attempts to keep that gorgeous blonde smiling every time she came by, I dug into my food. ?Everything in me says I wanna believe you.? While I stared down, slicing into that thick cut of steak. ?Everything else says yer absolutely ****ing crazy. There's a lotta things I need ta tell ya. And a lotta things you probably don't wanna know.? The shame wasn't subtle. Felt sharper, down deeper, than I ever had before. One of the not so few things ****ing me up was just how ashamed I was at what I had become. And just how ashamed I knew my family, my father most of all, would be.

Barely a blink. But I knew the wheels were turning. Looking down, then occasionally up, dad was doing his best to distract himself with that side of beef on a plate he had ordered for the both of us.

?Ya'll doin' okay over here?? That's it. All I needed to know she was making excuses to come to our table. I barely got a few sips deep into my Coke before she would ask me if I needed another. God I hoped that accent was just as glorious when the world was more quiet between us.

?Doin' a lot better now darlin'.? Bright blue in a disarming way. God bless the mid-west. I made sure to make pointed contact with each one, no shame in my game when I admired them. Then I looked for the tell tale flush on her face. She winked, then turned to make her way to another of her tables before I could see it turn bright red.

It wasn't easy to tell if he was more relaxed because of the interruption. His hands worked to slice off consumable chunks. ?We'll be heading back to Sacramento in the morning.? He didn't bother to look up. I wasn't looking in his direction anyways.

?Hope ya don't mind what I'm gonna do tonight.? She stole another glance. And I blushed because she caught me doing the exact same thing.

I was about to learn a lesson in just how hard old habits died.