Читать книгу Crave All Lose All - Erick S. Gray - Страница 10

Two

My last day of work, I got drunk with a few fellows at a bar on Rockaway Blvd. It was the end of the day and I was in my uniform throwing back Coronas and E&J not thinking about unemployment. I stared at the TV watching a clip of President Bush as he spoke to the nation about Osama Ben Laden and the war on terror.

“Muthafuckas fucked up and we lose our jobs,” Billy exclaimed. “Shit, they need to lay off Bush and that bitch, Rice. We the ones who suffer in the long run—the working man’s always last.”

“I hear that shit,” Roger, my ex-coworker concurred.

“He got some fucking nerves being on TV talking about the war… that muthafucka is terror. They need to knock his ass down like they did the towers,” Billy, my other ex-coworker joked.

“We gonna miss you and your lisp, Vin. We can still roll wit’ you…” Billy said raising his bottle.

“You said that wit’ just like Vince does,” laughed Roger chugging.

I joined in the laughter.

Billy and Roger were white and been at the company two years longer than me. When the pink slips were handed out, it didn’t matter if you were white or black. We were all in the same predicament—fucked.

I continued to down drink after drink. The news was too depressing to keep watching. Billy asked the bartender to change it. The Yankees were playing. I didn’t like baseball so I turned my attention elsewhere. Scanning the bar, I did a double-take when I spotted a girl I went to high school with. Sharice was standing by the pool table with a couple goons.

I remembered wanting to hit ‘em panties a long time ago. She was sexy, popular and everyone wanted a piece. Seven years had gone by but Sharice was looking good. She wore tight fitted jeans that highlighted her hips and a white top that left all her cleavage exposed.

She caught me looking. I smiled. Sharice was stuck on herself. From all the clarity in the ice she flossed on her neck, wrist and fingers, she had snatched up a baller.

I perked up and decided to holler at her as she strutted my way in five-inch stilletos. Her swagger could teach Beyonce a thing. Sharice snapped her fingers at the bartender while standing next to me without any acknowledgment. Her presence got my dick hard.

“Sharice, right…?” I asked.

“Do I know you, nigga?” she said with attitude.

“We went to high school together… had classes together during your senior year. I know you ain’t tyrin’ a play a nigga, now,” I smiled.

“That ugly uniform you wearing, it’s that easy for me to forget you,” she snapped back. “What you make ten…twelve dollars an hour? You can’t afford me, so step the fuck off.”

Her response smacked the smile off my face. I was flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, so you think you the shit now…bitch, you a fuckin’ gold-digger,” I barked. She had pissed me off.

“Don’t get stupid. My peoples are over there and one word from me and they’ll have you laid out on Rockaway Blvd.”

“Vince, we don’t need any trouble,” Billy said.

“I’m tryin’ to show this bitch some luv and she getting ill. Fuckin ho!”

“You ‘bout to get fucked up,” she said tossing the drink in my face.

“Sharice, you got problems?” one dude asked.

“This…piece-a-shit here just fuckin’ dissed me,” she said pointing.

“You got a problem, homey?” he asked with the pool stick clutched tightly in his hand. He was flanked by other goons who had his back. They grilled me like I was easy prey.

“Nah, nigga…but you need to teach this bitch some manners. Fuckin’ ho, forgot where she came from. Maybe she needs some dick in her mouth for her to shut the fuck-up!” I barked.

It was suicide. I knew what they were about. Their deamonor and style of dress screamed hustler. I had just lost my job, had too many bills to take care of and my car was on the verge of breaking down. They had Benzs and Escalades parked outside. All were frozen in ice and had money to burn. I had twenty dollars in my pocket and no job. Tipsy I was and in no mood for bullshit. I didn’t give a damn.

“Muthafucka, who you think you’re talkin’ to?” He was about six two, well dressed and well built. We were about the same size.

“Yo, I ain’t got no beef wit’ you, but your bitch is trash,” I continued my verbal onslaught.

“Vince man, c’mon…chill out,” Billy said fearing the worse. I needed to get hyped. There was nothing to lose and I haven’t been in a fight in months. Sharice played me. I knew she was used to niggas kissing her ass.

I saw the pool stick coming my way, ducked and charged forward. My first victim caught the blow across his jaw. I hit the second nigga across his temple and I went for the third nigga. I hit that third nigga so fucking hard, that I felt his jawbone shatter. I was outnumbered, but going hard body and had the advantage for serveral moments. Then someone grabbed me in a chokehold from behind. His forearm pressed against my wind-pipe like a python left me gasping, trying to break free.

“Yeah, what!” one of the thugs shouted hitting me.

“You bitch-ass, my son hits harder…”

The next blow buckled my knees. I found myself on the bar floor in the fetal position being stomped.

“Yo, drag this muthafucka outside!”

“Yo, get the fuck off me,” I yelled kicking.

My uniform was torn. My face was bruised and swollen from the blows bestowed.

“Yeah, talk that shit, fuckin’ big mouth!”

“I’m calling the cops.” The bartender shouted.

“We out…”

“I told you, stupid. Next time, you better fuckin’ respect me,” Sharice said looking down on me with a smug expression.

I was sprawled out on the floor, hearing them leaving. She followed her goons out the door.

“Fuck you! You still a ho!” I yelled.

I was hurting. My mouth was filled with blood and it felt like a few ribs were broken.

“Vince, you okay?” Roger asked coming to my aid.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, slowly picking myself up off the floor and holding my side.

“You and your smart mouth, gonna get you killed one day,” Billy said.

I looked at Billy thinking to myself, fuckin’ pussy.

“I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees,” I said with as much conviction as I could.

Who was I kidding? I’ve been living on my knees in society since my mother lost her house to the bank. I dropped out of school to support my family. Now I’ve lost my job and my family. I just got disrespected by a bitch I went to high school with and her goons beat me down.

I sighed, licked my wounds and went to the bar for another Corona. I thought about dying on my feet and becoming a man in this world, instead of continuing to live on my damn knees.